Day 11 is the midpoint of Fantasia - I think I noted online somewhere between Anime Supremacy! and Vesper that I'd seen 36 features and 23 shorts to that point - and I'm doing much of the write-up for it on Day 21, which I'll probably end with 73 features and 47 shorts, hitting publish on Thursday night (which would have been day 22 if they were still adding bonus days at the last minute).
There aren't any guests to take photos of or any particularly amusing stories, beyond how I made a mid-day change much like I did on Saturday, this time because Tang and Me ran a bit longer than I thought it would and the show across the street had already started when it let out. The result was similar; I wound up really liking Anime Supremacy! even though it hadn't looked like my thing at first. As a bonus, the Brattle has announced that Kier-La Janisse will be visiting with her House of Psychotic Women reissue and screening Identikit there in mid-August, so that works out for me.
Which gives me a chance to say, right as I'm feeling it, just how glad and grateful I am to have been back in Montreal for this festival through July and into August. The last two years of it being entirely or mostly virtual have not been the same, especially for someone outside of Canada fortunate to be given access to the screening library as press and thus not getting the introductions and Q&As that went with the timed events. We are still not really past the pandemic that made it that way - one of the hosts and programmers had to bow out of the last few days with a positive test, with something similar happening on the other end as well - so I've been masked up pretty much all the time I was inside. After all, even beyond not wanting to get sick, I have no idea what I'd even do, logistically, if I came down with a knock-you-flat case of Covid or tested positive at the end of my sublet; I'm not going to knowingly be a vactor on a plane or on a bus (for eight hours!), but I also don't drive so there'd be no obvious way to get back home while keeping my germs to myself. So folks probably haven't seen how often I've had a dumb grin on my face thie whole three weeks.
I've been very glad to see most of my friends that I've met at the festival this year - hey Kurt, Paul, Gabrielle! - and hope for the best for the people I didn't see, that they're either at a spot where they just can't make it to the festival any more (family obligations, moving to a new home) or just choosing spots when they go out. There's an older gent who always sat toward the front and on the left-hand side of the theater who I didn't see at all this year. Hope he's all right, because you never know.
I've probably spent a year of my life in Montreal at this point, or am coming up on it, and while I can't say I know the city much beyond a few areas, I do love what I know. It's been kind of a bummer to see places I've enjoyed in previous visits shuttered during this one, but I've also been discovering other places; cities are like that, even when there's not a pandemic accelerating the process. I'm looking forward to seeing some other parts of the city over the weekend, seeing how they held up.
Also - I'm only at the halfway point of these recaps as the festival ends because the folks there are kind enough to accredit me as press, and the time involved trying to see everything eats into time to try and write about it. I do try to cover absolutely everything because while some media outlets are valuable to the festival because of a large reach, my value to them is presuably writing up the stuff that a larger outlet won't see enough clicks on to justify the ridiculously small amount freelancers often get on a pop culture website that expects to turn a profit. And even at that, I've expected to get dropped in a numbers crunch for a few years - even before it started experiencing day-long outages during the pandemic and then went down in March of this year with no sign of coming back, eFilmCritic wasn't a big outlet, and, well, I see the numbers on this blog and they're about what you'd expect from a wall-of-text movie review blog that is updated irregularly by a guy who doesn't self-promote much. If eFilmCritic doesn't come back, I wouldn't be surprised if I don't get a pass next year, and I'm fine with that; I'd buy one if they were put on sale to the general public and can probably afford tickets on my own, though it would be a chunk of change, since I do all right by my day job. Give it to someone younger/less male/less white, because it's not like online genre film talk needs more representation from guys like me.
I do like being in the line that gets to go in first and having the freedom to make last-minute decisions even when shows are close to sold out, don't get me wrong, so I'll continue to apply and take the pass if it's being offered. I'm a thrifty New Englander at heart, after all! I'm just saying that, in addition to this being a great festival in a great city, I am even more thankful that apparently these write-ups are valued a bit.
Anyway - I'll probably have more to say when we get to 2022.21 and along the way. For now, it's back to working my way through the schedule. Next up is Monday the 25th, with The Artifice Girl, La Pietà, The Mole Song: Final, and The Breach.
"Spice Frontier"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival: Axis, digital)
There was a filmmaker message at the end of this short that indicates it's the pilot for a series, and it could be a pretty fun one - the premise has Kent (voice of Brett Waldon), a refugee from a lost Earth, searching for spices so that he can show the rest of the galaxy the variety of human cuisine, aided by hyper-competent android (or cyborg) C-LA (voice of Laurie Catherine Winkel). In this adventure, they're breaking into an abandoned aquarium satellite to retrieve sea salt, only to find The Syndicate has also arrived.
As proofs of concepts go, this is pretty slick, with a real 1990s animated sci-fi/action feel to it and characters that play kind of broadly, but it's the nature of shorts like this; the filmmakers want to make an entertaining adventure story for people who encounter it in the wild but it's also fairly important to show the folks who might be investors why they should sink enough money for thirteen 22-minute episodes into the project, maybe in sharper or plainer terms than they might use for that larger canvas. It's fun, maybe a little bit overstuffed trying to establish more than this short itself needs, but I would enjoy watching more of it, and I suspect 10-15-year-olds really would.
Opal
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival: Axis, DCP)
Opal is impressively ambitious considering the shoestring budget one likely has to make an animated feature in Martinique, if perhaps occasionally misguided and oversimplified, though I am somewhat tentative saying that, as it's not exactly material I have a lot of first-hand experience with. Even so, its intentions and unique influences made it a bit more than expected, worth a look as it sneaks headier material than expected into what looks like a kids' fantasy.
It takes place in a magical kingdom, where young Princess Opal (voice of Dawn-Lissa Mystille) is a reservoir of magic and summer never ends. Lately, though, the magic has weakened, making the place less prosperous, leading a farming family to summon The Great Iroko (voice of Alain Bidard) to investigate. In the palace, Opal is asked on a daily basis to give her magic to her father, so that the King can be rejuvenated to fight the monsters in the underworld. The Queen (voice of Heather Mystille) initially resists the Iroko's investigation, but an enchanted toy horse (voice of Kaori Ravi) soon reveals that this is not right, though the Queen's difficulty believing this of her husband may mean that she is too slow to react.
This is the sort of plot device that can sometimes be portrayed as natural and okay in fantasy settings, especially ones with a few miles on them, but hopefully register as some patriarchal and abusive garbage when looked at with clear eyes, and multi-hyphenate filmmaker Alain Bidard is thankfully very clear about it being the latter, structuring his metaphor with enough clarity that even the youngest members of the film's presumed audience can't miss. The main issue comes when the story and symbolism moves from describing situations which are often broadly similar to more personal reactions, as when Opal confronts her reservoirs of "negative emotions". "Negative emotions" is a pretty loaded term, especially when you're talking about an abused child.
That being what's underneath the story makes for a rather odd film, one that uses the language of the children's adventure but which is obviously pretty darn dark for them. Even beyond the scripting, it's also often very deliberate, every motion and change of expression carefully plotted and delivered, not quite to the point of being patronizing but such that one notices how intentional everything is. It's animation that looks smooth but does not exactly feel natural, or stylized in such a way that heightens specific things.
It's still fairly a delight to look at. The Afro-Caribbean sci-fi aesthetic is unique; full of bright colors and plenty of non-European influences in design. I especially love things like the hair that the Iroko and other members of his order sport; it looks like both a tree and antlers, and possibly lightning rods with which to draw power, making them even more larger than life than they already do. The paradisiacal fantasy kingdom is its own beast, floating islands that nevertheless feel connected rather than isolated.
Opal is a film very few would make like this, and worth a look to expand one's imagination a bit.
Tang (aka Tang and Me)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival, DCP)
Folks have likely seen a lot of movies like Tang; for folks of a certain age, it's hard to finish reading the description aloud without yelling "Short Circuit!" It's a likable enough take on the material, though: Nice cast, a kid-friendly story that emphasizes adventure more than action, what I presume are fun cameos for J-pop fans, and straightforward sincerity as it hits its expected notes.
Ken Kasugai (Kazunari Ninomiya) is in a long funk as the film opens, having skipped a job interview his sister Sakurako (Mikako Ichikawa) set up the previous day and irritated wife Emi (Hikari Mitsushima) with his video game habit and dismissed her interest in the latest model robot assistant. She also wants him to get rid of the weird robot that has wandered into their backyard, a cobbled-together thing that calls itself Tang and speaks more like a child than a machine programmed for a task. It won't stay with a local scrapyard, but seeing that it has an "Autobit Systems" chip and that the company is offering an upgrade, he figures he might trade Tang in, flying from Sapporo to Fukuoka to do so. The designer there (Taiga Kyomoto) says Tang's not one of their models, but also notes that, childish behavior aside, Tang's artificial intelligence seems to be tremendously advanced, capable of self-direction and general learning, and refers him to Dr. Rin Ohtsuki (Nao Honda) in Shenzhen. That's where they discover that, wherever Tang wandered in from, there are folks who want to get their hands on the little guy and don't seem inclined to just walk up and ask politely.
The film is based upon the novel A Robot in the Garden by English author Deborah Install, which appears to be quite popular in Japan as it has also been the inspiration for a stage musical there. It has mostly been localized, but one thing that struck me early on is just how Western pieces of it seemed - it starts in an American-style suburb and often has English labeling before Japanese, and I wonder if it's made with the idea that it might travel more than a lot of Japanese movies do. For all that the film seems to involve Ken and Tang racking up a bunch of air miles, each segment sort of feels like it could take place anywhere, give or take a local landmark or two popping out of clean, utopian future cities.
On the other hand, one shouldn't sell those cities short; the brightness of this movie's future world is a major plus, and though there may be conspiracies and danger, the vibe is generally hopeful, with Ken able to hop a few planes on short notice, kids enjoying museums, and Tang himself being cute as heck but also feeling quite functional - there are probably quite a few scenes where he's practical, although the ones where he's digital fit in fairly seamlessly. The effects work is quite good, and the filmmakers deploy them well, building up and enhancing the world but seldom actually building important scenes around a VFX overload - where a lot of blockbusters would expand the scale with dozens of evil robots and a crazy showdown on the top of a skyscraper or the like, director Takahiro Miki and screenwriter Arisa Kaneko keep things down at a level where Ken and Tang won't get lost when the stakes are highest.
They make a fun odd couple, with Kazunari Ninomiya managing to portray Ken as an underachiever who occasionally wallows in his least impressive traits, but not so far behind the audience in warming to Tang that they turn on him, while the animators, techs, and voice actors performing the little guy give rhim personality without being screen hogs. There's a mostly-fun group of supporting characters - I'm sure there's some J-pop rivalry story behind why some in the audience were laughing hard at Ninomiya and Taiga Kyomoto needling each other, but it's a fun group of scenes even without that, with Nao an energetic part of the Shenzhen sequence and Tetsuya Takeda a fine late entry as Tang's creator, although it is unfortunately one of those movies where playing the disappointed spouse doesn't give someone like Hikari Mitsushima much interesting to do.
It's an enjoyable little movie that feels built to play anywhere, especially if whoever picks up North American distribution gives it a good dub for younger audiences. That's a big if - the pipeline for these sort of big live-action adventures from Japan is built to serve a specialty crowd while this is aggressively mainstream, and for some reason the parent company never bothers spending a bit on these Warner Brothers-Japan movies even though it wouldn't take much to assure a modest profit - but it's fun enough for someone to give it a try.
Haken Anime! (Anime Supremacy!)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival, ProRes)
Anime Supremacy! has the poster and maybe the premise of a zany comedy (or maybe a romance), enough that one may spend the early going waiting for it to take that path, but the filmmakers have something else in mind, something a little more straightforward. Rather than the world of anime being a backdrop, the film shakes out as an often-fascinating ensemble piece about creative, dedicated people putting their heads down and trying to make something entertaining and meaningful in a high-pressure, commercial environment. It's serious, though not grave, probably made far more palatable than the reality because it's made by people who love anime regardless.
It opens with a flashback to when Hitomi Saito (Riho Yoshioka), a young woman with a promising career as a civil servant, made a career change to start working in animation, nailing the interview by saying she wanted to make something better than Chiharu Oji's relatively recent master work. Seven years later, her first series as main director, Soundback is about to premiere in the network's prime Saturday 5pm timeslot - and another network is counterprogramming with a new series by Oji (Tomoya Nakamura). The rivalry ignites when a joint interview at a convention leaves Saito feeling belittled and ignored by the crowd, challenging Oji to a competition in the ratings, but then the actual work begins. Saito's producer is Satoru Yukishiro (Tasuku Emoto), domineering and business-first, saddling her with pop idol Aoi Shono (Marika Kono), who would not have been Saito's first choice, as lead voice actor; Kayako Arishina (Machiko Ono), a longtime production assistant just promoted to producer, is charged with keeping the difficult-to-work-with Oji on task. Both series will be using the services of rising-star animator Kazuna Namisawa (Karin Ono) and taxing the studio she works for as both series start their 12-episode runs before the finales are completed.
At times, one wonders if the film might work a bit better if it was a little less sprawling; with a tighter focus. The filmmakers clearly know that Saito is the story more than Oji; even if she is competing with and measuring herself against him, the filmmakers will almost always choose to focus on Saito and Yukishiro if scenes between the two threads would be redundant, and there just seems to be more drama there. Saito is the one discovering the compromises that must be made between vision and commerce, bearing the pressure of potentially not getting a second chance should Soundback fail, especially as a woman in a very male-dominated industry - Oji certainly isn't getting backhanded compliments like "almost cute" during a promotional photoshoot! The competition aspect gives the film some structure and adds a couple good supporting characters, but it's not balanced, and the way that the audience gets to know Saito's project so much better means that there's some weight her creative struggles with her network while Oji's are less well-defined.
This puts the job of carrying the movie on Riho Yoshioka, and she does an impressive job of making it look like a weight, at least for Saito, right from the "I must be crazy" whole-body-clench of the opening interview to every time she has to deal with some further indignity. It's not all tension and frustration - she captures the flow state where a person can feel strangely peaceful even though she's swamped in work if it's going well and rewarding - and gives Saito a slight sense of being an outsider who came late to enjoying anime. Tooya Nakamura's not foregrounded quite so much, but he's able to dig into what makes Oji an interesting character - he's got a sense of rebellious cool and probably acts out to cultivate that image at times (buying into his own press at others), intrigued by what Saito is doing with her show but not outwardly supportive. Taskuku Emoto and Machiko Ono make good foils for their directors and contrasts to each other, even though their paths cross relatively little (beyond an early meeting where Yukishiro, who produced Oji's previous series, gives her a very polite good-luck-you're-gonna-need-it). One could probably cut Namisawa's subplot from the movie, but Karin Ono supplies a vein of earnest enthusiasm the story kind of needs, and her crush on a co-worker that she fears would never work out because he's a "normie" non-fan leads to a really sweet scene.
Mostly, though, it's fun enough to watch the sausage get made. Many films of this ilk focus on how a TV show, movie, or the like must be both art and product, setting up conflict between idealistic artists and bean-counting suits, and there's some of that here, certainly enough to drive conflict toward the end as both Saito and Oji push for unconventional finales. The thing that stands out here is how, up and down the line, the film emphasizes that creative work is, in fact, work, where a visionary has to manage a team, there are thousands of details that must be tended to, and deadlines that must be met. It's not just the executives that have their eyes on the bottom line, but all of the folks working 60-hour weeks and because even their small apartments need rent paid. It's rewarding but also terrifying - you don't have to work in this industry to find the dead silence during a test screening of Soundback nerve-wracking - especially since all the behind-the-scenes stuff about how a series goes from storyboard to script through five kinds of animation to voice-over all has the ring of authenticity.
I do kind of wonder about the themes of it all, in the end - both anime are, at various points, about young heroines sacrificing years of their lives and autonomy for their quests, though the filmmakers don't make a highly visible point of connecting that to the massive amount of self-sacrificing crunch that goes into making them. An American film might be more ambivalent about this, depending on where it was made, though this project finds more nobility to it. It's there, at least, and the clash between heroic ideals and workplace exploitation probably represents reality more than fans of any form of entertainment care to admit. Anime Supremacy! is fairly honest when it's on point, and it's on-point a lot.
(Though, as an aside, I do wonder a bit about when Mizuki Tsujimura's original novel was written and to what extent timeslots and the DVD/Blu-ray sales mentioned in the coda are still a major driver in Japan - the film mentions streaming but seems to take place in a television industry that seems a few years out of date, at least in the US!)
Vesper
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival, DCP)
Vesper often seems like a bunch of interesting post-apocalyptic world-building looking for a story. Some of its details are novel, some are rote, and at times the fact that the former are so impressively realized is all that's keeping a viewer from losing interest in yet another grimy dystopia where life is cheap and even moving in the direction of a better situation happens very slowly, if at all. It's not a bad bit of science fiction, just dark and grim and not marrying that to a particularly exciting story.
The character Vesper (Raffiella Chapman), a 13-year-old who is a prodigy with genetic mapping the way a modern teenager might be a computer wiz or gearhead, because that's a necessary skill in a world where mutated plants and animals dominate the ecosystem and the seeds sold by the oligarchs in their mushroom-shaped Citadel arcologies have highly effective terminator genes. It also lets her make tweak the life support system for her father Elias (Edmund Dehn), who came back from serving as a Citadel soldier paralyzed, though they gave him a hovering probe drone he can teleoperate (her mother, like many, has broken and joined a group of silent nomads). Some ingredients need to be sourced from Elias's brother Jonas (Eddie Marsan), who runs the nearest settlement with an iron fist and has a monopoly on trading with the Citadels. Into that falls Camellia (Rosy McEwen), a girl traveling to another Citadel with her father when their glider crashed, and whoever can get them back, whether it be Vesper and Elias or Jonas, stands to profit - for one reason or another.
There's a lot of fun-sounding sci-fi concepts in that description, but the fact that half the characters are related doesn't actually increase the melodrama - which is already not what it could be with Elias basically lying in bed, writhing in pain - and for better or worse, filmmakers Kristina Buozyte & Bruno Samper don't exactly jazz up Vesper's experiments so they look more cinematic than actual science, other than placing them in a dark room partially lit by bioluminescence. Citadels sometimes loom in the background, but most of the story takes place in run-down outbuildings and a swamp with exceptionally dangerous plant life. It's dangerous, but feels small, and there's a real shortage of ambition, not just in the story, but among the characters. Jonas is the most villainous local figure, but he's the sort of mean and petty that calls itself pragmatism, not grandiose. Elias seems to be begging for the sweet release of death. Vesper's primary project - reversing the seeds' terminator genes so that farmers don't have to pay the Citadel through the nose every year - is extremely important but not similarly exciting. And for a large chunk of the movie, Camelia kind of gets left behind in Vesper's shack as she sneaks out to steal something, just sort of waiting for something involving her to happen.
It is still gorgeous, for certain conceptions of that word - not everybody is going to be into nasty biological stuff, after all, and this is a movie where even things that seem like they would logically be purely mechanical have some sort of squishy material inside. It's all effectively designed and deployed well, as are the Citadels' exteriors, what we see of their tech, and the visuals of the ultimate direction the film takes. On top of that, most will probably agree that the drone is the film's breakout star - a seemingly plain cylinder with a face apparently painted on by Vesper when she was just a little kid, audiences will dig it even before the filmmakers make it clear that Vesper's robot sidekick is actually her father, trying to protect her more aggressively that either his failing body or this easily-damaged machine will allow, and then this simple thing becomes poignant.
It's not hard to grow fond of Vesper herself or Camellia - Raffiella Chapman and Rosy McEwen form a quick friendship that doesn't rely on obvious friction because of their different backgrounds, with Chapman hitting how Vesper is smart and daring but also acutely aware of how dangerous everything around her is. Eddie Marsan is probably the most familiar face in the cast, and he's a good choice for Jonas - he's a lean guy who doesn't dominate a scene physically but can conjure up something truly monstrous when asked, and that's what he does here. Jonas could be more interesting, but Marsan gets the job done.
I wish Vesper as a whole were more interesting; it's designed so well for what it is and that hovering drone could be a sci-fi icon if more people were aware of it. This sort of post-apocalyptic world calls for an epic quest or a genuinely grand conceptual hook, and the movie just doesn't have one.
"What Is in the Ocean?"
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival, digital)
Preston Moss's "What Is in the Ocean?" starts out as a pastiche of mid-century educational films and quickly breaks the fourth wall with the surreal idea that the scientist delivering facts on marine life realizes that his life is a few short minutes restarted every time someone watches the movie, fleeing despite the narrator and the editor being able to catch up with him. Moss and actor Christopher Wiley are clever to skip past this being kind of curious or funny to him, quickly shuffling toward a confused existential crisis that he can't really begin to comprehend that's tragic and pitiful. The comedy is the arch narration trying to help, after a fashion, absurdity distracting from horror.
This sort of story more or less has to zoom out at some point, and when it does - well, it's ultra-weird with some winks at this actually being a relatable situation. It's not necessarily a great bit - it's foreshadowed to not be totally random but might be better off coming totally out of left field. Definitely screwy enough to be funny but not necessarily guaranteed to actually hit an audience that way.
Légions
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 24 July 2022 in Auditorium des Diplõmés de la SGWU (Fantasia Festival, DCP)
Not, perhaps, the best films with which to conclude a five-feature day, especially when #4 didn't exactly leave one revved up and ready for more. It's the sort of movie that's got a lot going on but not as much happening, especially before it decides to actually get into a fight with evil.
Antonio Poyju (Germán De Silva) was, at one point, Argentina's greatest bruja - though he had a more grandiose term for it - and it runs in his blood, with his daughter Elena initially appearing as though she could be even more powerful than him. While the twentieth century had no shortage of demons to vanquish, the one that had the most impact on Poyju's life was the Kuorayara, a jungle spirit who killed Elena's indigeneous mother and stole a necklace from Elena that represented her faith. After that, she no longer fit in the jungle, and Antonio returned to the city, an embarrassment when his daughter was a teenager and now trapped in a mental institution because that's apparently where they send a person who claims to be a demon-slayer when things go south. Elena (Lorena Vega) isn't visiting him, but her nice lawyer husband Warren is doing the best to get him out. He had better hurry - the Kuorayara has returned, and still has the Poyju family in its sights.
There's good material in here, but writer/director Fabián Forte seems to spend the bulk of his time in the least interesting period and situation, when Antonio is an old man in the asylum, sort of plotting his escape but also spending a lot of time with the inmates' theater troupe, who have decided that Antonio's stories would make a better play than what they would normally do, even if that leads to a lot of infighting among unstable people about authenticity and ejecting of directors, while the subject of those stories often sits back and watches with some amusement. It is, perhaps, the natural inverse to what happened with Elena - where she lost her faith and burrowed into bourgeois "normality", these people whom others call mad gained the ability to believe in things beyond the normal - but Forte not only doesn't draw that line, but he spends so much time on the inmates arguing about minutia and so seemingly little on Elena's present (really, anything after the time between when Elena was little) that it's hard to integrate the latter into the story, while the former just feels trivial and obnoxious in its presentation.
It didn't have to be; Germán De Silva gives a dry, entertaining performance, his Antonio too aware of the hidden supernatural world to truly be concerned with the petty concerns of a bunch of madmen or sweat Elena's desires for a normal life too much. He's funny even when the intended comedy around him is not landing, and he handles the moments where the audience may be wondering if he's been reduced to something less than his true self to a force to be reckoned with quite nicely.
And when it comes time for Antonio and Elena to face their demon and slay it, Forte doesn't screw around, paying off all the shadowy, mysterious teases from earlier on with gory confrontations that prove plenty cathartic. The horror action in this movie is by and large practical and messy, possessed of a nasty sense of humor but still taking itself fairly seriously regardless. Forte may have jokes, but he's also going to give the audience reason to be invested in the finale.
The film has large chunks of screwing around with things that don't really matter, and as such never quite manages the scale implied by its multiple time periods and powerful monsters. It's like some subplots got out of control in the filmmaking process, and Forte couldn't entirely push them back.
Showing posts with label Martinique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Martinique. Show all posts
Thursday, August 04, 2022
Fantasia 2022.11: "Spice Frontier", Opal, Tang and Me, Anime Supremacy!, Vesper, "What Is in the Ocean", and Legions.
Labels:
animation,
Argentina,
comedy,
drama,
family,
Fantasia,
Fantasia 2022,
fantasy,
horror,
independent,
Japan,
Lithuania,
Martinique,
sci-fi,
shorts,
USA
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Fantasia 2020.03: Monster Seafood Wars, Circo Animato, and Class Action Park
How is Fantasia 2020 different than all the others for me, aside from the obvious? Well, almost all of the screeners for movies playing these two days need to be requested from a third party other than the festival, but I'm not sure how many of the people involved were working the weekend(*), so this is one of the shortest Saturdays I've ever had at the fest and Sunday will likely be even shorter. On the other hand, it meant I could watch a shorts package and reviewing the whole thing did not put me behind by months, so there's that.
(*) Not at the festival; those guys are always running flat out for three weeks and there is no reason to believe that this year is any exception.
Anyway, it's looking like I might have some time to catch up on some of these, so we'll see how the rest of the week goes. I already had to circle around on a couple of the shorts, because I thought I'd put them on "Watch Later" so I could use the Roku, but no. Weird. There will be some things that don't match the schedule, but it works that way with the fest's in-person press screenings sometimes, too.
Anyway, enough about how the sausage is blogged, let's get back to the shorts - if you're in Canada, the "Circo Animato" package is exceptionally solid and the rest of us should hope some of these short films filter into other ways they can be seen. If I ran a theater, one of the things I would do is contact filmmakers of shorts like this directly and see if I could book them as before-movie feature, which is probably very difficult but would at least give my hypothetical theater something to stand out with. From this batch, I would definitely be talking to the makers of "The Weather Is Lovely" and "Wade", albeit to pair with very different films. I'm bummed that I'm missing out on the introductions and Q&As with the short packages this year, but everybody is going to have something to be proud of. Plus, I believe it's the first time I get to use "Croatia" as a tag on this blog (even if the short in question may be more Serbian than Croation)!
Last item on the day - a link was literally mailed to me as I was watching the shorts - is Class Action Park, which will apparently be on HBO Max at the end of the month. I gather that despite having both HBO and Cinemax in my cable package, I don't have that service, which is ridiculous and highlights why these massive companies should be naming their services after the movie studios rather than the TV brands, but at least it will be around for those who couldn't log in for this one. It's fun and horrifying!
Monster Seafood Wars
* * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival, Vimeo via Roku)
Minoru Kawasaki has been making movies along the lines of Monster Seafood Wars for years if not decades, and though I've missed most of them, I get the impression that they've been just good enough and just profitable enough that he's been able to keep working and maybe upgrade his resources over that time. The movies haven't necessarily been good, per se, but they've apparently been consistent enough in quality and tone to get him a fanbase. This one's like that - not good, but he's got enough of a voice that it's kind of interesting.
It's a giant monster movie, with 50-meter tall sea creatures - an octopus, a squid, and eventually a crab - attacking the city and suspicion falling on Yuta Tanumu (Keisuke Ueda), who was bringing a basket with those three animals personally selected by his sushi-master father to the local shrine, as well as Setap-Z, the super-growth serum he helped to develop (at great expense) while at the Institute for Super Physical & Chemical Research. Japan quickly organizes a Seafood Monster Attack Team whose leader Hibiki (Ryo Kinomoto) recruits Yuta's childhood crush Nana Hoshiyama (Yoshina Ayano Christie) and ISPCR rival Hikoma (Yuya Asato), the latter of whom suggests they use bursts of rice vinegar to soften the molluscs up so they can be blasted with missiles.
The upshot of all this is that Takella the squid and Ikulla the octopus start dropping chunks of meat after that first battle which are incredibly delicious. It's a fun idea that pretty much everybody who has seen a giant monster movie has probably at least jokingly thought about, and it seems like like Kawasaki and co-writer Masakazu Migita have put a little thought into it (working, perhaps loosely, from a story by monster movie special effects legend Eiji Tsuburaya). Not a lot of thought, which is a shame; you can see the outlines of something cleverly satirical when you connect the offscreen marauding of giant monsters with meat only affordable for the wealthy - especially galling considering Yuta developed Steap-Z to help feed the hungry - but not only does it not really go anywhere, but the filmmakers just grind through the same exact bit what seems like ten times in a row, and it is dreadfully boring. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a little bit more fun for Japanese or J-phile audience who can spot cameos and parodies that others might miss, but if you're not getting that, it's a killer.
Full review at eFilmCritic
"Spinning Top"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Shiva Momtahen's "Spinning Top" is produced by Iran's Documentary and Experimental Film Center and has a pleasant preserving-stories vibe to it even though it having it narrated by a little kid strips it of the usual nostalgia and gives it more of a boy's adventure feel as its young hero goes searching for his lost toy, eventually digging through a well of memories to find it. It's a choice that almost starts to grate but doesn't quite reach that point, no matter how rapid or circular that voice-over work gets. Momtahen finds the line between imagination and metaphor and straddles it expertly, letting the audience enjoy both sides.
It's a delight to look at, too, as the narrating boy is mostly presented as an extremely cute figure with classic cartoon proportions and design, centered on screen and framed by gorgeous borders that regularly shift into new configurations and dazzle with their colorful designs. It puts the purity of a child's imagination in the middle of something mythic, while the occasional shifts and transformations into a shaded, three-dimensional style are both playful and a bit of a shift into something more real. It doesn't quite make this story half-remembered, but does put it into memory.
"Kkum"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 23 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo)
Poking through credits, I see director Kim Kangmin worked on Dave Made a Maze, which kind of tracks; this is earnest and imaginative and built out of an unusual medium such that you never take the way it's made for granted but can still sink in and let Kim tell his story. It's a fascinating look - everything is made out of styrofoam and that gives it both the lightness of dreams and the solidity of reality. Everything here is surprisingly solid for being seemingly insubstantial.
Which is as it should be - it tells how the narrator's mother has constant dreams about her son and does a little digging into their interpretation but also how they spur her to action, whether in terms of prayer or something more concrete. Kim describes his mother's dreams as building a shield thousands of layers deep around him and it's a visual metaphor that works, especially as that shield is a silvery glow that matches the rest of the film's muted color scheme but also feels more solid even though it's a digital force field. Even as your eyes are examining the image, the idea is sinking in.
Plus, there are styrofoam insects getting splatted in a moment that is as delightfully goofy as it is sincere, and a brief but clever break in style around the birth of Kim's first child, as the world changes for him. It makes for a nifty short indeed.
"There Were Four of Us"
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Cassie Shao's "There Were Four of Us" is the sort of abstracted animation where I find myself wanting a little more context, because it's striking and personal and creates a heck of a mood in seven minutes. I just can't quite grasp where some of it is coming from.
I like the look of it, though, with the aggressively garish colors and shifting styles, taking place in a world that seems apocalyptic but that may just be how the characters see it. It dips down into something that is more literally dreams and self-reflection at times, eventually charting a physical and mental course that takes the narrator and viewer back to the start.
I get the feeling that this is the sort of art that reveals more as you stare longer and come back to it. It's got a good enough hook to make that happen, but a festival animation block may not be the best way to get there.
"Thin Blue Variety Show"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
There was a nifty thing that went on during the early days of this year's BLM protests, as actors appalled with the way law enforcement was attacking protesters donated the residuals they'd received from playing cops, and I don't know how much it lasted beyond that, but Gretta Wilson's "Thin Blue Variety Show" comes from the same place of looking at how media reinforces acceptance of bad police behavior and always has. It's sharp and angry, almost too much so to be described as black comedy, because even though everything has the look of jokes and parody, there's not a moment that isn't dead serious and full of conviction.
Stop motion can be tricky and time-consuming, so Wilson only manages three or four minutes, but they're packed and full of cleverness as she represents these characters by their costumes, presenting them as faceless puppets while the generic "perp" mannequin they abuse is nothing but face with no limbs to fight back. She uses MAD Magazine type stand-ins, but it's pointed enough that one can't watch the short without wondering how much of this "copaganda" has made its way into one's own head, right down to the closing statistics that sure look like they could finish an episode of Law & Order
"Genius Loci"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Adrien Mérigeau puts a lot of characterization into "Genius Loci" in a relatively short bit of time - there is a lot going on with Reine (voice of Nadia Moussa), a young black woman who bristles at the close watch sister Mouna (voice of JIna Djemba) keeps on her, wanting to go out into the city, even as she finds it hostile to her and doesn't know exactly what she feels about white musician Rosie (voice of Georgia Cusack). Her body language, narration, and the way she sees the world sometimes tell different stories, but they all reinforce her as a fascinating character.
It's a lot, but sometimes life is a lot, and Mérigeau does some very nice work getting the audience inside Reine's head and doing the little-to-big changes that show just how things can run away from her. I like that sometimes it's not just a one-off issue but everything cumulatively that seems triggering for her, with memorable moments of her pausing, pulling back, and trying to get back on track, and how the world around her is beautiful but also kind of rough, both in how it's depicted and the actual conditions. It's an impressive case of the style representing the message without often getting too exaggerated.
"Reflexion"
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
There must have been an incredibly fast turnaround on this one to have Alain Bidard's quarantine-inspired piece ready even for this delayed festival, and it almost feels retrofitted, like it started out as something else. For most of its running time, it feels like it's just a video chat about a pair of kids from different sides of the tracks in love with one afraid of how other people would act if they knew, with a bit of enforced isolation added to the end. It doesn't entirely feel like a last-minute twist, but certainly feels like it could have been.
It's an odd movie in other ways; the visual style with the exaggerated eyes contrasted with the hyper-detailed lip movements is a bit unnerving, right on the edge of the uncanny valley, and the whispered conversation takes a little strain to hear. It's an earnest but kind of mundane conversation realized with animation that can't do a lot to heighten it or focus on the most important points, the sort that feels like it might fare a lot better if Bidard just got a couple expressive young actors on Zoom and let them speak.
"Inside Blue"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
I love how quickly and wordlessly Chen Yi-Chien establishes the nervous pathology of "Inside Blue"'s main character, the need to have everything in its proper place that he brings tape to assign it even if it's not immediately obvious. It leads to a tormented but kind of funny bit of self-inflicted slapstick at times, even as the plaintive grunting on the soundtrack brings it just far enough into sympathetic rather than mocking territory.
I like the way Chen uses his digital tools as well; the style with any sort of anchored motion seeming too smoothing and the three-dimensionality being a bit exaggerated often comes across as fake or like the filmmakers just didn't have enough cycles to make it look more natural, but here it reads as hyper-awareness. I also love how nothing is allowed to be round and smooth, with every circular object rendered as an irregular pentagon or the like, not really sharp enough to be truly threatening but also not reassuring or comfortable. It reinforces how the world seemingly needs to be tamed even as both the audience and likely the character know that this is not the actual reality of things.
"Seoulsori"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 23 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo)
Kim Kyoung-bae's "Seoulsori" is the sort of three-minute short that feels like it must go a little longer for how much it does visually after initially seeming to be a bit still - Kim jumps from one image to another to the next without ever seeming to be jumping past anything. It's moving fast, but making each moment last just rough seconds that it lodges in the brain as something one was looking at for a while, enough that when elements return later it's got a little mental real estate. The upbeat but aggressive score by PEEJAY helps move it along too.
There's also something about how Kim goes hard against type that tickles a bit. It's a kid looking at a piece of art and being sucked in, but instead of amazement and awe he feels pure horror, and I find myself wondering why a bit - the piece he's looking at is fairly conventional, if a bit somber. Are the rest of the museum's displays pushing him into this, or is he just overpowered by the very idea that art can have this sort of effect on him that it frightens him? Maybe it's just kids sometimes being scared by things which seem totally innocuous to others, and filling the void with whatever they can imagine.
"The Weather Is Lovely"
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
I wouldn't be shocked to see Lien Chun-Chien's "The Weather Is Lovely" showing up more post-Fantasia; it's a nifty adventure that's cheery and imaginative and has enough computing power thrown at it to compete with what American studios can do. Maybe it doesn't show up in the Oscar nominees, but it probably makes the "Highly Commended" section and is selected for various family-friendly short programs. It's mainstream in a good way and it's a shame that there's not much of a place for a general audience to become aware of things like this.
And it's charming as heck, as a curious meteorologist discovers a tool dropped by a cloud artist and is delighted, at least until it gets too much water and starts to spit out a massive waterspout. There's an opposites-attract thing going on that lets both of them still be really charming and pleasant, and feels a bit like an inverted Disney Princess set-up with the spunky lady scientist in the open and the guy from the magic cloud city nervously poking around.
There's little to no dialogue, but the characters are expressive, with Lien and co-writer Lee Pohan filling the screen with little details but not overwhelming it, and making the danger of the "villain" real but not entirely scary, finding a lot for both characters to do as well as a fun robot sidekick or two. I'd watch a series of this pair's adventures and want more.
"Peace & Love"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Ah, the annual short film that is presented in French with no subtitles so I've got to figure out what's going on and how I feel about it just from the action.
I've kind of got no idea what was going on - a master and an apprentice are on a boat, they encounter another, there are some really aggressive fish, and a metamorphosis… Maybe the dialogue explains things, maybe it's just everybody saying "yeah, this is messed up". It's fun to watch, though, with everything extremely malleable and chaotic but with a lot of charm. It moves quickly and makes the chaos work for it, and you get an impression of the characters just from the way they hold themselves. Nice effects animation, too.
And on top of that, the last few seconds works as a punchline even for those of us who don't really know what the joke is, if only because it's an extremely well-timed gag.
"Florigami"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
"Florigami" is a straightforward but nifty little abstract bit of animation from director Iva Ćirić, the sort where you get what she's doing pretty quickly but marvel at both how nice it looks and how clearly it's presented. It features sprouts and vines trying to grow toward the sun, blocking and sometimes throttling each other, with one made to grab the audience's attention and seeming to have a little more agency even as the stronger vines block it. It's the sort of thing that looks like it just happened or was done algorithmically even though every frame was likely labored over.
A thing I dig about it is Ćirić finds a really nice spot where these plants feel just active enough that the audience can feel some sort of identification but, despite the bright white vine's buds which look kind of like eyestalks, they never get too anthropomorphized. Yeah, there's something we're supposed to get out of them and all, but they're still plants. It's a metaphor, not a fantasy.
"Wade"
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
If the festival had a "short I would most like to see expanded to a feature" award, "Wade" would probably get my vote. Kalp Sanghvi and Upamanyu Bhattacharyya create a vision of a flooded Kolkata that not only impresses with its detail but pulses with anger, every corner not just showing the remnants of regular life but the sort of denial and xenophobia contributed to this mess in the first place. It picks up at a moment when people seem to be right on the edge of being able to handle their new normal but still finding things shifting.
It's a great-looking movie but seldom a pretty one; the tigers that move into the city are downright monstrous-looking and the pinholes the characters are given for eyes combine with characters' super-bronzed skin to suggest that the sun is pounding down even more than expected. It makes them feel like the walking dead even before the filmmakers really start loading up the hardships. They pile it on relentlessly but at a pace that creates tension more than frenzy, with plenty of genuine building horror.
I'm not saying it would be a fun feature, but it would be a memorable one with a strong point of view, even if it might be a hard sell.
"The Grave of St. Oran"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Jim Batt's "The Grave of St. Oran" is adapted from a poem by Neil Gaiman with him providing narration, and it's an interesting little bit of history that I suspect Gaiman finds fascinating in part because there are unsettled pieces to it. Several times, he stops to say that maybe something else happened, or that history doesn't record that bit, but it doesn't really matter, because the totality of the story has a shape and is built around this bit they do know. It is the sort of thing that makes a story neither history nor myth but legend.
Batt embraces that, using a style that seems to come from the illustrations a contemporary monk might make for the story, limiting motion somewhat but not completely, repeating shots that suggest the two saints that landed on Iona were close friends. Though animated and set hundreds of years ago, these shots feel like photographs from a true-crime documentary, which fits, and also lets Batt slide all the easier into horror, both as Oran is buried alive and he begin to haunt the place. It's often a pretty simple visual, the sort that suggests there is something eerie about the place, if not a history of carnage.
"Eerie" seems to be what they're going for, if sometimes an arch and curious variation of it, and it generally works out fairly well.
Class Action Park
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival, internet)
New Jersey's infamous Action Park is the sort of thing that, decades later, defies belief - it seems like it almost has to be parody that is exaggerated a little too much. But, no, it was a real thing and the makers of the documentary seem almost as stunned as the audience, spending an hour and a half saying "can you believe this?" in shocked surprise and not having to do much else.
They do start by giving a little background, discussing how 1970s stockbroker Gene Mulvihill was looking for something new to do after being banned from Wall Street and purchased a pair of ski resorts in Vernon, New Jersey, but also wanted to make money off them in the summer, which led to building one of the country's first water parks, with mountain slides and go karts as well. As one might imagine, Mulvihill was not one who cared much for rules, so he pushed to make the tracks more thrilling (despite very few involved actually knowing much about engineering) and hired as few minimum-wage teenagers as he could possibly get away with - all while creating a fake off-shore insurance company and using it to launder money. Surprisingly, the place would stay open for twenty years.
There is probably a nifty movie - dramatic or documentary - to be made that focuses more on Mulvihill and maybe uses the dangerous rides and lax supervision as punctuation or subplots, but it's hard to blame directors Seth Porges and Chris Charles Scott III for going the other direction - there's much more footage to work with and it makes for eye-opening television. Much of it comes from the 1980s, so it's a combination of home movies and VHS footage, and they lean into it for the general look of the film - the animations have a crude and hand-drawn look rather than being sophisticated CGI renderings of how all the physics works, and even the captions that label the participants often look like something that may have come from the local news during that period. It's nostalgic for those who lived through the period, although not ostentatiously so. It's what they've got to work with and they run with it.
Full review at eFilmCritic
(*) Not at the festival; those guys are always running flat out for three weeks and there is no reason to believe that this year is any exception.
Anyway, it's looking like I might have some time to catch up on some of these, so we'll see how the rest of the week goes. I already had to circle around on a couple of the shorts, because I thought I'd put them on "Watch Later" so I could use the Roku, but no. Weird. There will be some things that don't match the schedule, but it works that way with the fest's in-person press screenings sometimes, too.
Anyway, enough about how the sausage is blogged, let's get back to the shorts - if you're in Canada, the "Circo Animato" package is exceptionally solid and the rest of us should hope some of these short films filter into other ways they can be seen. If I ran a theater, one of the things I would do is contact filmmakers of shorts like this directly and see if I could book them as before-movie feature, which is probably very difficult but would at least give my hypothetical theater something to stand out with. From this batch, I would definitely be talking to the makers of "The Weather Is Lovely" and "Wade", albeit to pair with very different films. I'm bummed that I'm missing out on the introductions and Q&As with the short packages this year, but everybody is going to have something to be proud of. Plus, I believe it's the first time I get to use "Croatia" as a tag on this blog (even if the short in question may be more Serbian than Croation)!
Last item on the day - a link was literally mailed to me as I was watching the shorts - is Class Action Park, which will apparently be on HBO Max at the end of the month. I gather that despite having both HBO and Cinemax in my cable package, I don't have that service, which is ridiculous and highlights why these massive companies should be naming their services after the movie studios rather than the TV brands, but at least it will be around for those who couldn't log in for this one. It's fun and horrifying!
Monster Seafood Wars
* * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival, Vimeo via Roku)
Minoru Kawasaki has been making movies along the lines of Monster Seafood Wars for years if not decades, and though I've missed most of them, I get the impression that they've been just good enough and just profitable enough that he's been able to keep working and maybe upgrade his resources over that time. The movies haven't necessarily been good, per se, but they've apparently been consistent enough in quality and tone to get him a fanbase. This one's like that - not good, but he's got enough of a voice that it's kind of interesting.
It's a giant monster movie, with 50-meter tall sea creatures - an octopus, a squid, and eventually a crab - attacking the city and suspicion falling on Yuta Tanumu (Keisuke Ueda), who was bringing a basket with those three animals personally selected by his sushi-master father to the local shrine, as well as Setap-Z, the super-growth serum he helped to develop (at great expense) while at the Institute for Super Physical & Chemical Research. Japan quickly organizes a Seafood Monster Attack Team whose leader Hibiki (Ryo Kinomoto) recruits Yuta's childhood crush Nana Hoshiyama (Yoshina Ayano Christie) and ISPCR rival Hikoma (Yuya Asato), the latter of whom suggests they use bursts of rice vinegar to soften the molluscs up so they can be blasted with missiles.
The upshot of all this is that Takella the squid and Ikulla the octopus start dropping chunks of meat after that first battle which are incredibly delicious. It's a fun idea that pretty much everybody who has seen a giant monster movie has probably at least jokingly thought about, and it seems like like Kawasaki and co-writer Masakazu Migita have put a little thought into it (working, perhaps loosely, from a story by monster movie special effects legend Eiji Tsuburaya). Not a lot of thought, which is a shame; you can see the outlines of something cleverly satirical when you connect the offscreen marauding of giant monsters with meat only affordable for the wealthy - especially galling considering Yuta developed Steap-Z to help feed the hungry - but not only does it not really go anywhere, but the filmmakers just grind through the same exact bit what seems like ten times in a row, and it is dreadfully boring. I wouldn't be surprised if it was a little bit more fun for Japanese or J-phile audience who can spot cameos and parodies that others might miss, but if you're not getting that, it's a killer.
Full review at eFilmCritic
"Spinning Top"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Shiva Momtahen's "Spinning Top" is produced by Iran's Documentary and Experimental Film Center and has a pleasant preserving-stories vibe to it even though it having it narrated by a little kid strips it of the usual nostalgia and gives it more of a boy's adventure feel as its young hero goes searching for his lost toy, eventually digging through a well of memories to find it. It's a choice that almost starts to grate but doesn't quite reach that point, no matter how rapid or circular that voice-over work gets. Momtahen finds the line between imagination and metaphor and straddles it expertly, letting the audience enjoy both sides.
It's a delight to look at, too, as the narrating boy is mostly presented as an extremely cute figure with classic cartoon proportions and design, centered on screen and framed by gorgeous borders that regularly shift into new configurations and dazzle with their colorful designs. It puts the purity of a child's imagination in the middle of something mythic, while the occasional shifts and transformations into a shaded, three-dimensional style are both playful and a bit of a shift into something more real. It doesn't quite make this story half-remembered, but does put it into memory.
"Kkum"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 23 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo)
Poking through credits, I see director Kim Kangmin worked on Dave Made a Maze, which kind of tracks; this is earnest and imaginative and built out of an unusual medium such that you never take the way it's made for granted but can still sink in and let Kim tell his story. It's a fascinating look - everything is made out of styrofoam and that gives it both the lightness of dreams and the solidity of reality. Everything here is surprisingly solid for being seemingly insubstantial.
Which is as it should be - it tells how the narrator's mother has constant dreams about her son and does a little digging into their interpretation but also how they spur her to action, whether in terms of prayer or something more concrete. Kim describes his mother's dreams as building a shield thousands of layers deep around him and it's a visual metaphor that works, especially as that shield is a silvery glow that matches the rest of the film's muted color scheme but also feels more solid even though it's a digital force field. Even as your eyes are examining the image, the idea is sinking in.
Plus, there are styrofoam insects getting splatted in a moment that is as delightfully goofy as it is sincere, and a brief but clever break in style around the birth of Kim's first child, as the world changes for him. It makes for a nifty short indeed.
"There Were Four of Us"
* * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Cassie Shao's "There Were Four of Us" is the sort of abstracted animation where I find myself wanting a little more context, because it's striking and personal and creates a heck of a mood in seven minutes. I just can't quite grasp where some of it is coming from.
I like the look of it, though, with the aggressively garish colors and shifting styles, taking place in a world that seems apocalyptic but that may just be how the characters see it. It dips down into something that is more literally dreams and self-reflection at times, eventually charting a physical and mental course that takes the narrator and viewer back to the start.
I get the feeling that this is the sort of art that reveals more as you stare longer and come back to it. It's got a good enough hook to make that happen, but a festival animation block may not be the best way to get there.
"Thin Blue Variety Show"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
There was a nifty thing that went on during the early days of this year's BLM protests, as actors appalled with the way law enforcement was attacking protesters donated the residuals they'd received from playing cops, and I don't know how much it lasted beyond that, but Gretta Wilson's "Thin Blue Variety Show" comes from the same place of looking at how media reinforces acceptance of bad police behavior and always has. It's sharp and angry, almost too much so to be described as black comedy, because even though everything has the look of jokes and parody, there's not a moment that isn't dead serious and full of conviction.
Stop motion can be tricky and time-consuming, so Wilson only manages three or four minutes, but they're packed and full of cleverness as she represents these characters by their costumes, presenting them as faceless puppets while the generic "perp" mannequin they abuse is nothing but face with no limbs to fight back. She uses MAD Magazine type stand-ins, but it's pointed enough that one can't watch the short without wondering how much of this "copaganda" has made its way into one's own head, right down to the closing statistics that sure look like they could finish an episode of Law & Order
"Genius Loci"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Adrien Mérigeau puts a lot of characterization into "Genius Loci" in a relatively short bit of time - there is a lot going on with Reine (voice of Nadia Moussa), a young black woman who bristles at the close watch sister Mouna (voice of JIna Djemba) keeps on her, wanting to go out into the city, even as she finds it hostile to her and doesn't know exactly what she feels about white musician Rosie (voice of Georgia Cusack). Her body language, narration, and the way she sees the world sometimes tell different stories, but they all reinforce her as a fascinating character.
It's a lot, but sometimes life is a lot, and Mérigeau does some very nice work getting the audience inside Reine's head and doing the little-to-big changes that show just how things can run away from her. I like that sometimes it's not just a one-off issue but everything cumulatively that seems triggering for her, with memorable moments of her pausing, pulling back, and trying to get back on track, and how the world around her is beautiful but also kind of rough, both in how it's depicted and the actual conditions. It's an impressive case of the style representing the message without often getting too exaggerated.
"Reflexion"
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
There must have been an incredibly fast turnaround on this one to have Alain Bidard's quarantine-inspired piece ready even for this delayed festival, and it almost feels retrofitted, like it started out as something else. For most of its running time, it feels like it's just a video chat about a pair of kids from different sides of the tracks in love with one afraid of how other people would act if they knew, with a bit of enforced isolation added to the end. It doesn't entirely feel like a last-minute twist, but certainly feels like it could have been.
It's an odd movie in other ways; the visual style with the exaggerated eyes contrasted with the hyper-detailed lip movements is a bit unnerving, right on the edge of the uncanny valley, and the whispered conversation takes a little strain to hear. It's an earnest but kind of mundane conversation realized with animation that can't do a lot to heighten it or focus on the most important points, the sort that feels like it might fare a lot better if Bidard just got a couple expressive young actors on Zoom and let them speak.
"Inside Blue"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
I love how quickly and wordlessly Chen Yi-Chien establishes the nervous pathology of "Inside Blue"'s main character, the need to have everything in its proper place that he brings tape to assign it even if it's not immediately obvious. It leads to a tormented but kind of funny bit of self-inflicted slapstick at times, even as the plaintive grunting on the soundtrack brings it just far enough into sympathetic rather than mocking territory.
I like the way Chen uses his digital tools as well; the style with any sort of anchored motion seeming too smoothing and the three-dimensionality being a bit exaggerated often comes across as fake or like the filmmakers just didn't have enough cycles to make it look more natural, but here it reads as hyper-awareness. I also love how nothing is allowed to be round and smooth, with every circular object rendered as an irregular pentagon or the like, not really sharp enough to be truly threatening but also not reassuring or comfortable. It reinforces how the world seemingly needs to be tamed even as both the audience and likely the character know that this is not the actual reality of things.
"Seoulsori"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 23 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo)
Kim Kyoung-bae's "Seoulsori" is the sort of three-minute short that feels like it must go a little longer for how much it does visually after initially seeming to be a bit still - Kim jumps from one image to another to the next without ever seeming to be jumping past anything. It's moving fast, but making each moment last just rough seconds that it lodges in the brain as something one was looking at for a while, enough that when elements return later it's got a little mental real estate. The upbeat but aggressive score by PEEJAY helps move it along too.
There's also something about how Kim goes hard against type that tickles a bit. It's a kid looking at a piece of art and being sucked in, but instead of amazement and awe he feels pure horror, and I find myself wondering why a bit - the piece he's looking at is fairly conventional, if a bit somber. Are the rest of the museum's displays pushing him into this, or is he just overpowered by the very idea that art can have this sort of effect on him that it frightens him? Maybe it's just kids sometimes being scared by things which seem totally innocuous to others, and filling the void with whatever they can imagine.
"The Weather Is Lovely"
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
I wouldn't be shocked to see Lien Chun-Chien's "The Weather Is Lovely" showing up more post-Fantasia; it's a nifty adventure that's cheery and imaginative and has enough computing power thrown at it to compete with what American studios can do. Maybe it doesn't show up in the Oscar nominees, but it probably makes the "Highly Commended" section and is selected for various family-friendly short programs. It's mainstream in a good way and it's a shame that there's not much of a place for a general audience to become aware of things like this.
And it's charming as heck, as a curious meteorologist discovers a tool dropped by a cloud artist and is delighted, at least until it gets too much water and starts to spit out a massive waterspout. There's an opposites-attract thing going on that lets both of them still be really charming and pleasant, and feels a bit like an inverted Disney Princess set-up with the spunky lady scientist in the open and the guy from the magic cloud city nervously poking around.
There's little to no dialogue, but the characters are expressive, with Lien and co-writer Lee Pohan filling the screen with little details but not overwhelming it, and making the danger of the "villain" real but not entirely scary, finding a lot for both characters to do as well as a fun robot sidekick or two. I'd watch a series of this pair's adventures and want more.
"Peace & Love"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Ah, the annual short film that is presented in French with no subtitles so I've got to figure out what's going on and how I feel about it just from the action.
I've kind of got no idea what was going on - a master and an apprentice are on a boat, they encounter another, there are some really aggressive fish, and a metamorphosis… Maybe the dialogue explains things, maybe it's just everybody saying "yeah, this is messed up". It's fun to watch, though, with everything extremely malleable and chaotic but with a lot of charm. It moves quickly and makes the chaos work for it, and you get an impression of the characters just from the way they hold themselves. Nice effects animation, too.
And on top of that, the last few seconds works as a punchline even for those of us who don't really know what the joke is, if only because it's an extremely well-timed gag.
"Florigami"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
"Florigami" is a straightforward but nifty little abstract bit of animation from director Iva Ćirić, the sort where you get what she's doing pretty quickly but marvel at both how nice it looks and how clearly it's presented. It features sprouts and vines trying to grow toward the sun, blocking and sometimes throttling each other, with one made to grab the audience's attention and seeming to have a little more agency even as the stronger vines block it. It's the sort of thing that looks like it just happened or was done algorithmically even though every frame was likely labored over.
A thing I dig about it is Ćirić finds a really nice spot where these plants feel just active enough that the audience can feel some sort of identification but, despite the bright white vine's buds which look kind of like eyestalks, they never get too anthropomorphized. Yeah, there's something we're supposed to get out of them and all, but they're still plants. It's a metaphor, not a fantasy.
"Wade"
* * * ¾ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
If the festival had a "short I would most like to see expanded to a feature" award, "Wade" would probably get my vote. Kalp Sanghvi and Upamanyu Bhattacharyya create a vision of a flooded Kolkata that not only impresses with its detail but pulses with anger, every corner not just showing the remnants of regular life but the sort of denial and xenophobia contributed to this mess in the first place. It picks up at a moment when people seem to be right on the edge of being able to handle their new normal but still finding things shifting.
It's a great-looking movie but seldom a pretty one; the tigers that move into the city are downright monstrous-looking and the pinholes the characters are given for eyes combine with characters' super-bronzed skin to suggest that the sun is pounding down even more than expected. It makes them feel like the walking dead even before the filmmakers really start loading up the hardships. They pile it on relentlessly but at a pace that creates tension more than frenzy, with plenty of genuine building horror.
I'm not saying it would be a fun feature, but it would be a memorable one with a strong point of view, even if it might be a hard sell.
"The Grave of St. Oran"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival: Circo Animato, Vimeo via Roku)
Jim Batt's "The Grave of St. Oran" is adapted from a poem by Neil Gaiman with him providing narration, and it's an interesting little bit of history that I suspect Gaiman finds fascinating in part because there are unsettled pieces to it. Several times, he stops to say that maybe something else happened, or that history doesn't record that bit, but it doesn't really matter, because the totality of the story has a shape and is built around this bit they do know. It is the sort of thing that makes a story neither history nor myth but legend.
Batt embraces that, using a style that seems to come from the illustrations a contemporary monk might make for the story, limiting motion somewhat but not completely, repeating shots that suggest the two saints that landed on Iona were close friends. Though animated and set hundreds of years ago, these shots feel like photographs from a true-crime documentary, which fits, and also lets Batt slide all the easier into horror, both as Oran is buried alive and he begin to haunt the place. It's often a pretty simple visual, the sort that suggests there is something eerie about the place, if not a history of carnage.
"Eerie" seems to be what they're going for, if sometimes an arch and curious variation of it, and it generally works out fairly well.
Class Action Park
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 22 August 2020 in Jay's Living Room (Fantasia Festival, internet)
New Jersey's infamous Action Park is the sort of thing that, decades later, defies belief - it seems like it almost has to be parody that is exaggerated a little too much. But, no, it was a real thing and the makers of the documentary seem almost as stunned as the audience, spending an hour and a half saying "can you believe this?" in shocked surprise and not having to do much else.
They do start by giving a little background, discussing how 1970s stockbroker Gene Mulvihill was looking for something new to do after being banned from Wall Street and purchased a pair of ski resorts in Vernon, New Jersey, but also wanted to make money off them in the summer, which led to building one of the country's first water parks, with mountain slides and go karts as well. As one might imagine, Mulvihill was not one who cared much for rules, so he pushed to make the tracks more thrilling (despite very few involved actually knowing much about engineering) and hired as few minimum-wage teenagers as he could possibly get away with - all while creating a fake off-shore insurance company and using it to launder money. Surprisingly, the place would stay open for twenty years.
There is probably a nifty movie - dramatic or documentary - to be made that focuses more on Mulvihill and maybe uses the dangerous rides and lax supervision as punctuation or subplots, but it's hard to blame directors Seth Porges and Chris Charles Scott III for going the other direction - there's much more footage to work with and it makes for eye-opening television. Much of it comes from the 1980s, so it's a combination of home movies and VHS footage, and they lean into it for the general look of the film - the animations have a crude and hand-drawn look rather than being sophisticated CGI renderings of how all the physics works, and even the captions that label the participants often look like something that may have come from the local news during that period. It's nostalgic for those who lived through the period, although not ostentatiously so. It's what they've got to work with and they run with it.
Full review at eFilmCritic
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Fantasia 2019.18: Full Contact, Homewrecker, Moon in the Hidden Woods, Circo Animato 2019, Freaks, and American Fighter
10am for the first show. Ten. Ay. Em! Doesn't seem like much, but some in the audience might have been at the midnight "Fantasia Retro" show the night before, and I'm guessing that the people looking to watch these older movies like Full Contact don't necessarily sleep as fast as we used to. King-Wei Chu apologized, sheepishly saying that they found themselves with too many movies. He then asked if we'd like to hvae the festival make 10am shows a regular thing, and I think the answer can be summed up as "no, but (heavy sigh) we'll come anyway".
The 35mm print they got hold of was nice, though, which is good because it came from the Academy archives in Los Angeles and is apparently the only one in circulation. That presumably means it's the same one I saw in New York during the February Hong-Kong-a-thon, which is kind of neat on the one hand, although being the only print also makes the archive very reluctant to let it out and I don't know if there's a decent DCP available for those who can't sweet-talk the Academy. Fortunately, it was just reissued on Blu-ray in Hong Kong as part of the trickle of Ringo Lam discs that have been coming out since his death.
After this, every show had someone show up:

Next up in the same room was director Zach Gayne and Precious Chong of Homewrecker (with Justine Smith), which packed DeSeve a couple of times in part based on how Canadian a film it is. It's frequently very funny even if I don't love the direction it winds up going, but it is very much their (and co-star/co-writer Alex Essoe's) film. The basic idea had been kicking around Gayne's head for a while since reading an old news story, eventually resurrected when the group started looking around for a way to work together on something bigger than the Funny or Die videos Chong and Gayne were making. They wound up shooting it in Chong's house the week her husband and son were on vacation, right before a remodel - an important consideration, since the script involves a sledgehammer, which gave her husband some pause in the lead-up.
They got the "how much was improvised?" question, and had to be really insistent about having shot the script (which Chong & Essoe co-wrote). It's pretty hard to mess around when you're paying crew by the hour and have a hard deadline for being out of the house.

Next up, director Takahiro Umehara of Moon in the Hidden Woods, which was a last-minute detour from me because I went for the more fantastical flick rather than the The Island of Cats, which just looked eccentric, apparently forgetting entirely that one of my favorite movies at the festival last year was a cute Japanese thing with kitties. It was maybe not the best choice; this movie might play better to kids or otherwise seem like a really nifty semi-steampunk reimagining if you've got a better background in South Korean folklore than I do, but it wound up not being a great mid-day film for me. The director was a quite likable fellow, though, seemingly a journeyman getting a chance to direct a feature by going to Korea and eager to embrace its culture in creating the film. He also seemed to dig Montreal, heading down to the old city and only making it back a couple minutes before he was supposed to introduce this one.

The animation program used to have a lot more local filmmakers showing up, but it seems as though those movies wound up at Fantastique Week-Ends this year. Or maybe it's just a blip. This year's guests were Neil Christoper & Daniel Gies of "The Giant Bear", Cristina Sitja Rubio of "Strange Creatures", Kim Myung-eun of "The First Class", and Han Seong-heun of "Barchestra". As with the previous day's Science Fiction Showcase, the filmmakers for the package were, if not an even male-female split, pretty close, and good on 'em for that.
Christopher & Gies were especially up-front about how "The Giant Bear" took a lot of work, reconceptualizing it a few times, figuring out music, working with the descendants of the First Nations man whose recorded telling of a folktale served as the basis of their film. Getting it just so was very important. Rubio mentioned that "Strange Creatures" was based upon a children's book, but they opted to make the designs something close to the complete opposite. Kim Myung-eun's "The First Class" is another really nifty one, although she seemed a bit dismayed that the movie she made about the issues with the Korean education system is fairly universal.

Next up (across the street) was Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein of Freaks, who made a nifty little movie and one that I'm really glad that I saw cold, barely even having skimmed the description in the program, because it's possible to get a ways into it without knowing just exactly what it's about that way, while the preview I would see a week or two later more or less lays everything right out. Par for the course these days, I guess.
Without saying too much, they did talk about how there are ideas kicking around in their head for more, because it is the kind of scenario that immediately feels too big for just one movie or point of view.

Finally, I went back across the street for American Fighter, which was supposed to be in Hall but got bumped so that the big screen could have a second show of The Cop, the Gangster, and the Devil, pushing Harpoon to the new Cinema de Musee. Guests were production coordinator Brian Kennedy (not 100% sure on the name), director Shaun Paul Piccinino, and co-star Sean Patrick Flannery, who despite having played young Indiana Jones way back when didn't quite grow up to be Harrison Ford. Apparently he got into martial arts, though, and runs schools in Hollywood and elsewhere when he's not in front of the camera. I had no idea - has this ever been part of his acting career before? Maybe he's done a bunch of straight-to-VOD fare where this figures in, or maybe he's better at actual sparring than choreographed work.
The folks involved all seemed pretty enthusiastic about the stuff they were making together, cranking out small-scale flicks that aim to be pretty decent rather than pushing any envelopes. Love your job, right?
As expected, writing up a day with a dozen short films took a while, plus I finished up my IFFBoston posts before getting back to Fantasia, so here's hoping that it doesn't take until April to give everything the full review it deserves.
Xia dao Gao Fei (Full Contact)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève(Fantasia International Film Festival: Fantasia Retro, 35mm)
I wonder, idly, how much chance I'd have to see Full Contact right now if not for director Ringo Lam's recent death. I'm not sure if ever heard of it before a couple folks mentioned it in tweets about his best movies, and then two events play it as a tribute and a new Blu-ray comes out as part of a steady re-release of his catalog in Hong Kong. You've got to wish there were better reasons, but I'll take the movie anyway.
After all, it's a great deal of fun, a double-barreled crime movie with an absurdly good cast - Chow Yun-fat, Anthony Wong, and Simon Yam being the big names - intense action, and a level of style one doesn't automatically associate with Lam. In a lot of ways, it's a simple action script, but the way that the filmmakers set the two crews up as mirror images of one another, from Chow and his righteous cool the being the absolute opposite of the flamboyant psycho Yam plays on down, and then have Wrong as the wild card, is a great example of how these guys knew how to make them resonate at a gut level so that the operatic action fits. It's not complicated, but it pulls you in just enough for the violence to mean something.
And it's great, fun action, from how a flirty coat flip reveals a weapon in the opening to the bullet's-eye-view Lam uses in the finale to make a shootout feel as personal as a fistfight. It's bloody and nasty and mean, but also thrilling and exciting, with blackly comic beats keeping things from getting exhausting. Ringo Lam was a damn master, and is a crying shame he won't be giving us the likes of this any more.
"Outpatient"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival, digital)
Science fiction film has a tendency to extrapolate one thing forward but assume the rest will stay the same with a more future-y paint job, and the way that filmmaker Steve Yager sees the increasing use of digital assistants and America's ever-messy health-care situation converging deserves at least a little credit for focusing on convergence, even if it's of the pessimistic variety. Heck, on first blush, I was kind of tempted to nit-pick an Alexa (here given the non-infringing name "Nova") having the apparent capabilities of a medical tricorder from Star Trek, although I've come around to thinking that these things having heat/infrared scanners fine enough to spot appendicitis and the like that are always passively observing and recording (along with a couple of the other alarmingly powerful tools) probably is the future.
Hopefully that doesn't mean that the situation brought up here - Nova can detect an appendix about to rupture but everything outside one's convenient bubble is so awful that do-it-yourself HomeCare™ is the best option. As a sketch, though, it's pretty darn funny, especially since it's often able to find a way to tell a joke so that Mason & Emma are both kind of with the audience in terms of being shocked and appalled but also kind of weird future people who take what's still mostly unthinkable to us in stride. It's big and broad but also filled with fine comic timing, and let's all hope it doesn't come to this.
Homewrecker
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival, DCP)
Beware being too drawn in by descriptions, because while the way this movie was listed as being a lesson about being too polite and accommodating, that's actually just the hook; eventually, other things have to push the movie forward, and it never works quite so well as a story driven by specific intent than a riff on a lunatic who preys on good intentions. The less random it becomes, the harder it has to work.
It seems to start out pretty random, with two women crossing paths in various fitness classes often enough to recognize each other. It gives middle-aged Linda (Precious Chong) just enough familiarity to sit across from Michelle (Alex Essoe), who is having one of those "so this isn't the month we find out we're starting a family" moments. Linda notices that Michelle is an interior designer, something she's been looking for, and gets the younger woman to come look at her house. Once there, it becomes difficult for Michelle to politely extricate herself as Linda makes more and more demands on her time disguised as hospitality.
This seems more like the premise for a short film than a feature, even the filmmakers seem to work their tails off to make it to 75 minutes. They're nevertheless able to start strong, immediately butting Linda's long-arrested development against Michelle's accommodating but sensible nature, and while that gives Precious Chong a lot to work with. She's kind of generally intrusive and Chong (who co-writes with director Zach Gayne and co-star Alex Essoe) gets most of the big comedic moments and milks the heck out of them, initially making Linda big and crazy enough to unnerve but seeming just lonely enough to earn some sympathy and make it easy enough to see why Michelle doesn't just bolt. She's an intriguingly modern take on the old trope of the deranged spinster, one that plays differently in the current nostalgia-choked age where the old pop culture never goes away and there's so much pressure (and ability) to push the aging process back.
Full review on EFilmCritic
Sup-e Sum-eun Da (The Moon in the Hidden Woods)
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: AXIS, DCP)
South Korea has been a spot where the frame-by-frame grinding out of animation is done for a long time, but has seldom been a place where notable animation is initiated; I cannot remember a Korean animated feature getting much notice since Wonderful Days (aka "Sky Blue") fifteen years ago. The Moon in the Hidden Woods probably won't be the one that remedies this; it looks rougher than theatrical animation from other countries and while imaginative, the storytelling leaves something to be desired.
It follows Nabilera, a princess of sorts, but one who is not interested in being a child bride for Count Tar at all, despite being told that this may be the only way to return the moon to the sky from which it has disappeared, replaced by Muju, the red night sky. She flees and meets Jang-goo, a meteor hunter from a small village, as well as rival Guntheir from a neighborhood village. She is right not to want any part of Tar - he is in league with Muju in a plan to plunge the world into darkness - but it may be too late to rally the mystic forces necessary to stop their plan.
Visually, The Moon in the Hidden Woods takes most of its cues from Japanese animation, but looks like a theatrical anime from twenty or thirty years ago, or perhaps a lower-budgeted television show (where director Takahiro Umehara has done most of his work), with flat colors and broad shots where you can see scads of background characters standing dead still. The character designs feel like a similar sort of throwback in their bold simplicity and with their oversized accessories. They are still interesting for coming from a different cultural place, though far enough removed to not necessarily feel specifically Korean to a foreign audience. It often seems as if they are hoarding their resources, saving their best work for the climax and mostly able to allow the creativity, from making street music a game to moon fairies appearing as mammoths, to make up for what it doesn't have technically.
Full review on EFilmCritic
"The First Class"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
The neat thing Kim Myung-eun pulls off in "The First Class is how charmingly bouncy it feels at first, letters from the Korean alphabet dancing to suggest the joy of learning, only to have the more serious concepts start to sneak it. First it's almost a joke - the different shapes allow some to catch more of what drops from above than others - but it's not long before one sees how serious she is about it, as these things are sorted and judged and reassigned seemingly based upon things they have no control over, the animation eventually becoming more overwhelming and detailed but never losing the plot.
It's an impressive work of satire all around, not just for how it sort of sneaks its point in without initially seeming too eager but for how broad-ranging it turns out to be: Kim made it to specifically reflect the South Korean educational system but it fits issues students and parents have in the United States just as well, and anyone stuck in a system that values specific metrics over individual experience can probably relate. It's quite an impressive debut.
"Strange Creatures"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
At some point, "Strange Creatures" will be translated into English to play to viewers too young to deal with subtitles, and it will only be 80% as good because the narration by Álvaro Morales is a huge part of what makes it great, even if one is following it via subtitles. It's such a warm, charming voice that it easily balances how Cristina Sitja's and Cristobal León's take on the material can be a bit unnerving. According to Sitja in the Q&A, they went in the complete opposite direction of the original children's book visually, and while it works - the papier-mache models shot in flickering black-and-white look great - it's almost a bit too sinister, and can really use Morales's comforting tones.
It's good that it all balances like that, because Sitja & León walk an interesting line, telling a story of deforestation from the point of view of the animals, with a cynical underpinning that nevertheless seems to turn optimistic by the finish. There's fun whimsy in how they present the forest animals' "houses", and if maybe the film seems a little too optimistic in how it ends, there's something kind of lovely in that sense of hope in a film at least partly made for kids.
"Mofumofikushon" ("Fluffiction")
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
There are worse ways to spend seven or so minutes than in the world of Imazu Yoshiki's "World of Fluffy Animals", which presents a world where cute, fluffier versions of animals from our world wander throughout the countryside and the cities; it's a thoroughly charming ecosystem and his approach to it does not limit the audience to a single story, instead presenting it as an educational film but making it feel like open-world gameplay in some ways as Imazu leaps from one to another, changing scale effortlessly without creating the sense of a break.
It's a charming piece all around, introducing something new and fun every twenty seconds or so and nice narration, which is chipper and entirely suited to its elementary-school lecture style without seeming patronizing or the like. It feels like it could go on a little longer, or be developed into something big and elaborate like Detective Pikachu, but which is also quite satisfying on its own.
"Mimi"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
What's nice about Lisa Fukaya's "Mimi" is that it's not particularly charming; it's got soft colors and pictures made up almost entirely of round shapes, but it's unsentimental and serious, a movie where the discovery of a pimple makes the title character sour rather than panicky. It grows surreal as it goes on, naturally, and does a fine job of getting into how terrible this is for a kid but also playing on how dismissive kids at the age for pimples get.
"Barchestra"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Han Seong-heun's short is about a minute long, but it's great use of that little time, building itself a musical identity, letting shapes morph and show personality to the rhythm, and letting the visuals play on how a lot of bartenders are would-be performers. Neat stuff.
"Giant Bear"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Sometimes, you can find yourself being a little too precious about something like "Giant Bear", based on an Inuit legend with dialogue in Inuktitut and a bit of emphasis in the Q&A on making sure that the source material was respected. It's the sort of thing that marks it as good for you and lets you feel proud that you've learned a bit about another culture's mythology. And, yes, it has its moments where you can feel the importance of it, where you're feeling more proud of the filmmakers (and yourself) than pulled in.
Fortunately, there are more times when it's stunning to look at, a visual treat as the filmmakers create a dazzling skyover a barren land, an iconic hunter taking his place and a bear so massive that it becomes a monster. They create a stunning underwater world and the revelation of the bear underwater is terrific and eye-popping. The music is rousing ,and the sparse narration by sets a tone even with subtitles.
And, by the time it ends, the viewers find themselves surprisingly engrossed. It's the sort that has a key moment where something is maybe about to happen, and one may be surprised just how close one has gotten to the edge of the seat.
"Le Vol" ("The Flight")
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Alain Bidard's Battledream Chronicle was a nifty curiosity as an animated feature from Martinique mostly created by one guy, but in some ways you've got to be a little more interested in "Le Vol". It's four minutes long, but it creates a space that clearly represents something and is intriguing to look at without context, and tells an emotional story in a compact, near-worldless manner. It's important to him and you can feel that.
A bit at the end mentions that it's based on Hurricane Maria, and that tracks. It's an impressive, solidly built short film, and I hope Bidard brings some of the earnest emotion he gave this to his to his next larger project.
"Hurlevent"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Frédéric Doazan's "Hurlevent" initially seems like it's mostly a neat bit of visual trickery and while that's not nothing - the animated book pages in the middle of a live-action world are a thing you've seen before but which usually impresses - it's familiar. It's still fun and done well and you get the feeling that Doazan is going somewhere with it, and the text changing to 1s and 0s at spots sort of gives you an idea, although it feels kind of late to be raging against that.
It is, nevertheless, one that keeps building up well - the animation spills the bounds of the page, there's a Tower of Babel, the rain smears everything and makes one wonder about just how permanent these written words will be. It's not new, but it's playful and does have something to say.
"Hurlevent"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Science fiction, baseball, and animation in a single short film? Chiara Sgatti made this thing just for me.
It's not a particularly triumphant take on the material, though - the former ballplayer has MS and she isn't taking her diminished capability well, watching video of her glory days and only having her caretaker robot for company. It's sometimes melancholy at best and despairing at worst, with even the more upbeat moments having an element of the temporary to them, the rain is unceasing, and the city outside her apartment is sketchy, almost unreal. The different style for the memories and video of the games is effective, not sketchy like the outside but lacking detail.
And it's also kind of a horror movie, not with the traditional malevolence but with a scary thought of what the autonomous AI caretaker is doing out of well-intentioned programming, either because it's got poorly balanced priorities or because it does have just enough humanity to only think of the short term when seeing its charge suffering. It's genuinely creepy at moments and delivers a bit of food for thought.
"Love Me, Fear Me"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Veronica Solomon's "Love Me, Fear Me" is one of those entirely visual animations that just drops an idea on the audience in such pure fashion that it can handle being almost completely detached from a story. Here it's the multiplicity of personae that a single person can assume over time, shown via its clay-animated avatar sloughing off layers and reshaping itself several times over five or six minutes. Eventually, she walks off a stage arguably herself in her final form, not quite winking about how it's a bit of a relief to not be those other things on demand right now.
What's really impressive here is how smooth and casual it seems to be - you can often see the filmmaker's fingerprints in a short like this, literally as well as figuratively when clay is the medium, but there's a flow to how the changes blend in with the motion to keep one's eye on the art rather than the craft, and a recurrence of dance and performance to underscore the themes without defining this character as some sort of performer. It's a genuinely impressive job of expressing something abstract visually.
"My Moon"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Ah, the joys of coming full circle - humanity starts out seeing the heavenly bodies as personified gods, eventually learns about them, and then eventually depicts them as people as art, in part to help visualize what we know scientifically. Lee Eusong's "My Moon" is the latest to present the motion of the Sun, Earth, and Moon as a courtship and a dance, although it's clever enough to see that it works both ways - we best understand the motions of celestial bodies in human terms while human relationships can often seem to fly in pre-ordained orbits. Humanity and the gods reflect each other.
Lee puts it together nicely, too - the characters start out geometric and retain those rounded shapes even as they become human, and there's a smoothness to how they move that suggests a vacuum, like they pull at each other with gravity but not friction. It's an interesting choice to have them seem to speak with recordings of human voices rather than their own, with an eclipse leading to the traditional madness down below. The film stumbles a bit there, like it had been fine communicating without words up until that point but needed something else when the characters start talking.
Still, it's another striking, entertaining short with appealing pastel colors and all sorts of other charm.
"M52"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Yves Paradis describes "M52" as an improvised, animated experiment, each segment animated in a week with relatively little long-term planning, so it's perhaps appropriate that it feels like a film about the learning process. Its fish-eyed characters explore, experiment, and solve puzzles, splitting in two and recombining, discovering more about their strange world in much the same way their creator is finding out about them.
A little math will tell you that a ten-minute short with 52 shots has them each running ten or twelve seconds, so Paradis is seldom letting the grass grow under his feet; he's making a fast-paced cartoon that could suffer for not having any one moment given more attention than others but never actually does as he jumps from one idea to the next without ever forgetting where he left off or what he did before. The presumably after-the-fact music by Alexander Hohaus ties everything together and the simple but surreal design ties everything together: The greens that dominate tend to be vibrant rather than sickly, and the impossibly wide eyes give the impression of there being more to see.
It's not quite as straight-ahead as its characters are after an enormously powerful energy drink, but it certainly drives them forward and never actually feels like the unconventional production it's eventually revealed to be in the credits.
Watch at the director's website
Freaks
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Auditorium des Diplômés de la SGWU (Fantasia International Film Festival, DCP)
As much as I do like previews even beyond the way that they give one a heads-up that certain movies even exist, there's a real delight to be found in going into certain movies cold. The one for Freaks, for instance, probably needs to show as much as it does in order to draw its potential audience in, especially in an environment when similar-sounding but much larger things have huge studios behind them to suck up all of the oxygen in the room, but I'm glad I didn't see it until after I saw the movie. I kind of figured it eventually had to go a certain way, but it was thrilling to never be sure which way the movie would jump.
It centers on Chloe (Lexy Kolker), eight years old and living with her father (Emile Hirsch) in what are clearly not the best conditions - squatting in a run-down house, windows covered in newspaper, eating canned goods and being vigilant about outsiders. He drills her on a cover story and doesn't let her watch TV, but she's a clever and curious girl, and has started sneaking out during the rare hours when he lets himself sleep. That's how she meets "Mr. Snowcone" (Bruce Dern), who seems to have positioned his ice-cream truck on this quiet corner just to find her.
The nifty trick here is that filmmakers Zach Lipovsky & Adam B. Stein don't create an idyllic or "normal" setting that they can later reveal as hiding something darker, but instead decide to set off alarm bells from the very start, and then make the audience a little more nervous or queasy with every new piece of information: None of this seems healthy and even once new information starts coming out, there's still a lot of question as to whether it's necessarily unhealthy or compounded bad decisions. They create more uncertainty by telling the story from the point of view of an eight-year-old girl, keeping details out of sight and maybe part of an active imagination. Eventually, it's all out, and audiences will have seen a fair amount of what the filmmakers do before, but the details can still be surprising, and it's built to make knowing who to trust difficult all the way through. It's a layer cake of not being quite sure how to feel next.
Full review at EFilmCritic
American Fighter
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Action!, DCP)
American Wrestler is, I'm told, a more or less autobiographical story of an immigrant who came to America in the 1970s and integrated through sports, but this sequel isn't what happened next. It's what could have happened, if things had gone a bit differently, and for all that this particular alternate history is capably produced and enjoyable enough if you go for this particular genre, I kind of wonder why you'd stay so close to such a standard template if free to make up a whole new set of circumstances.
It picks up the story of Ali "Al" Jahani (George Kosturos) some time after the first film, now a freshman at Northeastern California University, looking to prove himself on a new wrestling team. He's got more to worry about than most of his teammates; though he has spent the last few years in California with his Uncle Hafez, his parents were just leaving Iran when they were taken off the plane and his father shot. A guy Hafez knows says he can get his ailing mother to America, but it will cost $30,000, an amount that seems impossible for them to raise. Ali's teammate Ryan (Bryan Craig) may know a way, though - there's a guy, McClellen (Tommy Flanagan) who runs underground fight clubs, and though this is the sort of thing that gets you booted off the team if anyone finds out and even cutman Duke (Sean Patrick Flannery) says not to trust the guy, what other options are there?
There is, I suppose, some impressive craft in how everything fits together smoothly enough to have come out of a particularly well-calibrated machine: Yes, there's a super-likable roommate who has an uncle who is just the right amount of shady to be running underground fighting matches, employing a cut-man who is just the right amount of disillusioned but sympathetic, but director Shaun Paul Piccinino and co-writer Carl Morris are good at presenting this sequence as the natural order of things rather than something that should shock viewers who have, more than likely, been watching movies like this since its early-1980s setting. The betrayal comes at the exact moment you expect, and that's the point at which things get a little more strained, as school almost vanishes and the scale of McClellen's operation becomes fuzzier. There are girlfriends who serve little purpose other than making sure one doesn't read too much into how readily Ali's friend is putting his body and place at school on the line for him and some of the most polite and downright apologetic coyotes you'll ever meet.
Full review on EFilmCritic
The 35mm print they got hold of was nice, though, which is good because it came from the Academy archives in Los Angeles and is apparently the only one in circulation. That presumably means it's the same one I saw in New York during the February Hong-Kong-a-thon, which is kind of neat on the one hand, although being the only print also makes the archive very reluctant to let it out and I don't know if there's a decent DCP available for those who can't sweet-talk the Academy. Fortunately, it was just reissued on Blu-ray in Hong Kong as part of the trickle of Ringo Lam discs that have been coming out since his death.
After this, every show had someone show up:

Next up in the same room was director Zach Gayne and Precious Chong of Homewrecker (with Justine Smith), which packed DeSeve a couple of times in part based on how Canadian a film it is. It's frequently very funny even if I don't love the direction it winds up going, but it is very much their (and co-star/co-writer Alex Essoe's) film. The basic idea had been kicking around Gayne's head for a while since reading an old news story, eventually resurrected when the group started looking around for a way to work together on something bigger than the Funny or Die videos Chong and Gayne were making. They wound up shooting it in Chong's house the week her husband and son were on vacation, right before a remodel - an important consideration, since the script involves a sledgehammer, which gave her husband some pause in the lead-up.
They got the "how much was improvised?" question, and had to be really insistent about having shot the script (which Chong & Essoe co-wrote). It's pretty hard to mess around when you're paying crew by the hour and have a hard deadline for being out of the house.

Next up, director Takahiro Umehara of Moon in the Hidden Woods, which was a last-minute detour from me because I went for the more fantastical flick rather than the The Island of Cats, which just looked eccentric, apparently forgetting entirely that one of my favorite movies at the festival last year was a cute Japanese thing with kitties. It was maybe not the best choice; this movie might play better to kids or otherwise seem like a really nifty semi-steampunk reimagining if you've got a better background in South Korean folklore than I do, but it wound up not being a great mid-day film for me. The director was a quite likable fellow, though, seemingly a journeyman getting a chance to direct a feature by going to Korea and eager to embrace its culture in creating the film. He also seemed to dig Montreal, heading down to the old city and only making it back a couple minutes before he was supposed to introduce this one.

The animation program used to have a lot more local filmmakers showing up, but it seems as though those movies wound up at Fantastique Week-Ends this year. Or maybe it's just a blip. This year's guests were Neil Christoper & Daniel Gies of "The Giant Bear", Cristina Sitja Rubio of "Strange Creatures", Kim Myung-eun of "The First Class", and Han Seong-heun of "Barchestra". As with the previous day's Science Fiction Showcase, the filmmakers for the package were, if not an even male-female split, pretty close, and good on 'em for that.
Christopher & Gies were especially up-front about how "The Giant Bear" took a lot of work, reconceptualizing it a few times, figuring out music, working with the descendants of the First Nations man whose recorded telling of a folktale served as the basis of their film. Getting it just so was very important. Rubio mentioned that "Strange Creatures" was based upon a children's book, but they opted to make the designs something close to the complete opposite. Kim Myung-eun's "The First Class" is another really nifty one, although she seemed a bit dismayed that the movie she made about the issues with the Korean education system is fairly universal.

Next up (across the street) was Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein of Freaks, who made a nifty little movie and one that I'm really glad that I saw cold, barely even having skimmed the description in the program, because it's possible to get a ways into it without knowing just exactly what it's about that way, while the preview I would see a week or two later more or less lays everything right out. Par for the course these days, I guess.
Without saying too much, they did talk about how there are ideas kicking around in their head for more, because it is the kind of scenario that immediately feels too big for just one movie or point of view.

Finally, I went back across the street for American Fighter, which was supposed to be in Hall but got bumped so that the big screen could have a second show of The Cop, the Gangster, and the Devil, pushing Harpoon to the new Cinema de Musee. Guests were production coordinator Brian Kennedy (not 100% sure on the name), director Shaun Paul Piccinino, and co-star Sean Patrick Flannery, who despite having played young Indiana Jones way back when didn't quite grow up to be Harrison Ford. Apparently he got into martial arts, though, and runs schools in Hollywood and elsewhere when he's not in front of the camera. I had no idea - has this ever been part of his acting career before? Maybe he's done a bunch of straight-to-VOD fare where this figures in, or maybe he's better at actual sparring than choreographed work.
The folks involved all seemed pretty enthusiastic about the stuff they were making together, cranking out small-scale flicks that aim to be pretty decent rather than pushing any envelopes. Love your job, right?
As expected, writing up a day with a dozen short films took a while, plus I finished up my IFFBoston posts before getting back to Fantasia, so here's hoping that it doesn't take until April to give everything the full review it deserves.
Xia dao Gao Fei (Full Contact)
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève(Fantasia International Film Festival: Fantasia Retro, 35mm)
I wonder, idly, how much chance I'd have to see Full Contact right now if not for director Ringo Lam's recent death. I'm not sure if ever heard of it before a couple folks mentioned it in tweets about his best movies, and then two events play it as a tribute and a new Blu-ray comes out as part of a steady re-release of his catalog in Hong Kong. You've got to wish there were better reasons, but I'll take the movie anyway.
After all, it's a great deal of fun, a double-barreled crime movie with an absurdly good cast - Chow Yun-fat, Anthony Wong, and Simon Yam being the big names - intense action, and a level of style one doesn't automatically associate with Lam. In a lot of ways, it's a simple action script, but the way that the filmmakers set the two crews up as mirror images of one another, from Chow and his righteous cool the being the absolute opposite of the flamboyant psycho Yam plays on down, and then have Wrong as the wild card, is a great example of how these guys knew how to make them resonate at a gut level so that the operatic action fits. It's not complicated, but it pulls you in just enough for the violence to mean something.
And it's great, fun action, from how a flirty coat flip reveals a weapon in the opening to the bullet's-eye-view Lam uses in the finale to make a shootout feel as personal as a fistfight. It's bloody and nasty and mean, but also thrilling and exciting, with blackly comic beats keeping things from getting exhausting. Ringo Lam was a damn master, and is a crying shame he won't be giving us the likes of this any more.
"Outpatient"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival, digital)
Science fiction film has a tendency to extrapolate one thing forward but assume the rest will stay the same with a more future-y paint job, and the way that filmmaker Steve Yager sees the increasing use of digital assistants and America's ever-messy health-care situation converging deserves at least a little credit for focusing on convergence, even if it's of the pessimistic variety. Heck, on first blush, I was kind of tempted to nit-pick an Alexa (here given the non-infringing name "Nova") having the apparent capabilities of a medical tricorder from Star Trek, although I've come around to thinking that these things having heat/infrared scanners fine enough to spot appendicitis and the like that are always passively observing and recording (along with a couple of the other alarmingly powerful tools) probably is the future.
Hopefully that doesn't mean that the situation brought up here - Nova can detect an appendix about to rupture but everything outside one's convenient bubble is so awful that do-it-yourself HomeCare™ is the best option. As a sketch, though, it's pretty darn funny, especially since it's often able to find a way to tell a joke so that Mason & Emma are both kind of with the audience in terms of being shocked and appalled but also kind of weird future people who take what's still mostly unthinkable to us in stride. It's big and broad but also filled with fine comic timing, and let's all hope it doesn't come to this.
Homewrecker
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival, DCP)
Beware being too drawn in by descriptions, because while the way this movie was listed as being a lesson about being too polite and accommodating, that's actually just the hook; eventually, other things have to push the movie forward, and it never works quite so well as a story driven by specific intent than a riff on a lunatic who preys on good intentions. The less random it becomes, the harder it has to work.
It seems to start out pretty random, with two women crossing paths in various fitness classes often enough to recognize each other. It gives middle-aged Linda (Precious Chong) just enough familiarity to sit across from Michelle (Alex Essoe), who is having one of those "so this isn't the month we find out we're starting a family" moments. Linda notices that Michelle is an interior designer, something she's been looking for, and gets the younger woman to come look at her house. Once there, it becomes difficult for Michelle to politely extricate herself as Linda makes more and more demands on her time disguised as hospitality.
This seems more like the premise for a short film than a feature, even the filmmakers seem to work their tails off to make it to 75 minutes. They're nevertheless able to start strong, immediately butting Linda's long-arrested development against Michelle's accommodating but sensible nature, and while that gives Precious Chong a lot to work with. She's kind of generally intrusive and Chong (who co-writes with director Zach Gayne and co-star Alex Essoe) gets most of the big comedic moments and milks the heck out of them, initially making Linda big and crazy enough to unnerve but seeming just lonely enough to earn some sympathy and make it easy enough to see why Michelle doesn't just bolt. She's an intriguingly modern take on the old trope of the deranged spinster, one that plays differently in the current nostalgia-choked age where the old pop culture never goes away and there's so much pressure (and ability) to push the aging process back.
Full review on EFilmCritic
Sup-e Sum-eun Da (The Moon in the Hidden Woods)
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: AXIS, DCP)
South Korea has been a spot where the frame-by-frame grinding out of animation is done for a long time, but has seldom been a place where notable animation is initiated; I cannot remember a Korean animated feature getting much notice since Wonderful Days (aka "Sky Blue") fifteen years ago. The Moon in the Hidden Woods probably won't be the one that remedies this; it looks rougher than theatrical animation from other countries and while imaginative, the storytelling leaves something to be desired.
It follows Nabilera, a princess of sorts, but one who is not interested in being a child bride for Count Tar at all, despite being told that this may be the only way to return the moon to the sky from which it has disappeared, replaced by Muju, the red night sky. She flees and meets Jang-goo, a meteor hunter from a small village, as well as rival Guntheir from a neighborhood village. She is right not to want any part of Tar - he is in league with Muju in a plan to plunge the world into darkness - but it may be too late to rally the mystic forces necessary to stop their plan.
Visually, The Moon in the Hidden Woods takes most of its cues from Japanese animation, but looks like a theatrical anime from twenty or thirty years ago, or perhaps a lower-budgeted television show (where director Takahiro Umehara has done most of his work), with flat colors and broad shots where you can see scads of background characters standing dead still. The character designs feel like a similar sort of throwback in their bold simplicity and with their oversized accessories. They are still interesting for coming from a different cultural place, though far enough removed to not necessarily feel specifically Korean to a foreign audience. It often seems as if they are hoarding their resources, saving their best work for the climax and mostly able to allow the creativity, from making street music a game to moon fairies appearing as mammoths, to make up for what it doesn't have technically.
Full review on EFilmCritic
"The First Class"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
The neat thing Kim Myung-eun pulls off in "The First Class is how charmingly bouncy it feels at first, letters from the Korean alphabet dancing to suggest the joy of learning, only to have the more serious concepts start to sneak it. First it's almost a joke - the different shapes allow some to catch more of what drops from above than others - but it's not long before one sees how serious she is about it, as these things are sorted and judged and reassigned seemingly based upon things they have no control over, the animation eventually becoming more overwhelming and detailed but never losing the plot.
It's an impressive work of satire all around, not just for how it sort of sneaks its point in without initially seeming too eager but for how broad-ranging it turns out to be: Kim made it to specifically reflect the South Korean educational system but it fits issues students and parents have in the United States just as well, and anyone stuck in a system that values specific metrics over individual experience can probably relate. It's quite an impressive debut.
"Strange Creatures"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
At some point, "Strange Creatures" will be translated into English to play to viewers too young to deal with subtitles, and it will only be 80% as good because the narration by Álvaro Morales is a huge part of what makes it great, even if one is following it via subtitles. It's such a warm, charming voice that it easily balances how Cristina Sitja's and Cristobal León's take on the material can be a bit unnerving. According to Sitja in the Q&A, they went in the complete opposite direction of the original children's book visually, and while it works - the papier-mache models shot in flickering black-and-white look great - it's almost a bit too sinister, and can really use Morales's comforting tones.
It's good that it all balances like that, because Sitja & León walk an interesting line, telling a story of deforestation from the point of view of the animals, with a cynical underpinning that nevertheless seems to turn optimistic by the finish. There's fun whimsy in how they present the forest animals' "houses", and if maybe the film seems a little too optimistic in how it ends, there's something kind of lovely in that sense of hope in a film at least partly made for kids.
"Mofumofikushon" ("Fluffiction")
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
There are worse ways to spend seven or so minutes than in the world of Imazu Yoshiki's "World of Fluffy Animals", which presents a world where cute, fluffier versions of animals from our world wander throughout the countryside and the cities; it's a thoroughly charming ecosystem and his approach to it does not limit the audience to a single story, instead presenting it as an educational film but making it feel like open-world gameplay in some ways as Imazu leaps from one to another, changing scale effortlessly without creating the sense of a break.
It's a charming piece all around, introducing something new and fun every twenty seconds or so and nice narration, which is chipper and entirely suited to its elementary-school lecture style without seeming patronizing or the like. It feels like it could go on a little longer, or be developed into something big and elaborate like Detective Pikachu, but which is also quite satisfying on its own.
"Mimi"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
What's nice about Lisa Fukaya's "Mimi" is that it's not particularly charming; it's got soft colors and pictures made up almost entirely of round shapes, but it's unsentimental and serious, a movie where the discovery of a pimple makes the title character sour rather than panicky. It grows surreal as it goes on, naturally, and does a fine job of getting into how terrible this is for a kid but also playing on how dismissive kids at the age for pimples get.
"Barchestra"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Han Seong-heun's short is about a minute long, but it's great use of that little time, building itself a musical identity, letting shapes morph and show personality to the rhythm, and letting the visuals play on how a lot of bartenders are would-be performers. Neat stuff.
"Giant Bear"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Sometimes, you can find yourself being a little too precious about something like "Giant Bear", based on an Inuit legend with dialogue in Inuktitut and a bit of emphasis in the Q&A on making sure that the source material was respected. It's the sort of thing that marks it as good for you and lets you feel proud that you've learned a bit about another culture's mythology. And, yes, it has its moments where you can feel the importance of it, where you're feeling more proud of the filmmakers (and yourself) than pulled in.
Fortunately, there are more times when it's stunning to look at, a visual treat as the filmmakers create a dazzling skyover a barren land, an iconic hunter taking his place and a bear so massive that it becomes a monster. They create a stunning underwater world and the revelation of the bear underwater is terrific and eye-popping. The music is rousing ,and the sparse narration by sets a tone even with subtitles.
And, by the time it ends, the viewers find themselves surprisingly engrossed. It's the sort that has a key moment where something is maybe about to happen, and one may be surprised just how close one has gotten to the edge of the seat.
"Le Vol" ("The Flight")
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Alain Bidard's Battledream Chronicle was a nifty curiosity as an animated feature from Martinique mostly created by one guy, but in some ways you've got to be a little more interested in "Le Vol". It's four minutes long, but it creates a space that clearly represents something and is intriguing to look at without context, and tells an emotional story in a compact, near-worldless manner. It's important to him and you can feel that.
A bit at the end mentions that it's based on Hurricane Maria, and that tracks. It's an impressive, solidly built short film, and I hope Bidard brings some of the earnest emotion he gave this to his to his next larger project.
"Hurlevent"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Frédéric Doazan's "Hurlevent" initially seems like it's mostly a neat bit of visual trickery and while that's not nothing - the animated book pages in the middle of a live-action world are a thing you've seen before but which usually impresses - it's familiar. It's still fun and done well and you get the feeling that Doazan is going somewhere with it, and the text changing to 1s and 0s at spots sort of gives you an idea, although it feels kind of late to be raging against that.
It is, nevertheless, one that keeps building up well - the animation spills the bounds of the page, there's a Tower of Babel, the rain smears everything and makes one wonder about just how permanent these written words will be. It's not new, but it's playful and does have something to say.
"Hurlevent"
* * * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Science fiction, baseball, and animation in a single short film? Chiara Sgatti made this thing just for me.
It's not a particularly triumphant take on the material, though - the former ballplayer has MS and she isn't taking her diminished capability well, watching video of her glory days and only having her caretaker robot for company. It's sometimes melancholy at best and despairing at worst, with even the more upbeat moments having an element of the temporary to them, the rain is unceasing, and the city outside her apartment is sketchy, almost unreal. The different style for the memories and video of the games is effective, not sketchy like the outside but lacking detail.
And it's also kind of a horror movie, not with the traditional malevolence but with a scary thought of what the autonomous AI caretaker is doing out of well-intentioned programming, either because it's got poorly balanced priorities or because it does have just enough humanity to only think of the short term when seeing its charge suffering. It's genuinely creepy at moments and delivers a bit of food for thought.
"Love Me, Fear Me"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Veronica Solomon's "Love Me, Fear Me" is one of those entirely visual animations that just drops an idea on the audience in such pure fashion that it can handle being almost completely detached from a story. Here it's the multiplicity of personae that a single person can assume over time, shown via its clay-animated avatar sloughing off layers and reshaping itself several times over five or six minutes. Eventually, she walks off a stage arguably herself in her final form, not quite winking about how it's a bit of a relief to not be those other things on demand right now.
What's really impressive here is how smooth and casual it seems to be - you can often see the filmmaker's fingerprints in a short like this, literally as well as figuratively when clay is the medium, but there's a flow to how the changes blend in with the motion to keep one's eye on the art rather than the craft, and a recurrence of dance and performance to underscore the themes without defining this character as some sort of performer. It's a genuinely impressive job of expressing something abstract visually.
"My Moon"
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Ah, the joys of coming full circle - humanity starts out seeing the heavenly bodies as personified gods, eventually learns about them, and then eventually depicts them as people as art, in part to help visualize what we know scientifically. Lee Eusong's "My Moon" is the latest to present the motion of the Sun, Earth, and Moon as a courtship and a dance, although it's clever enough to see that it works both ways - we best understand the motions of celestial bodies in human terms while human relationships can often seem to fly in pre-ordained orbits. Humanity and the gods reflect each other.
Lee puts it together nicely, too - the characters start out geometric and retain those rounded shapes even as they become human, and there's a smoothness to how they move that suggests a vacuum, like they pull at each other with gravity but not friction. It's an interesting choice to have them seem to speak with recordings of human voices rather than their own, with an eclipse leading to the traditional madness down below. The film stumbles a bit there, like it had been fine communicating without words up until that point but needed something else when the characters start talking.
Still, it's another striking, entertaining short with appealing pastel colors and all sorts of other charm.
"M52"
* * * ¼ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Circo Animato, digital)
Yves Paradis describes "M52" as an improvised, animated experiment, each segment animated in a week with relatively little long-term planning, so it's perhaps appropriate that it feels like a film about the learning process. Its fish-eyed characters explore, experiment, and solve puzzles, splitting in two and recombining, discovering more about their strange world in much the same way their creator is finding out about them.
A little math will tell you that a ten-minute short with 52 shots has them each running ten or twelve seconds, so Paradis is seldom letting the grass grow under his feet; he's making a fast-paced cartoon that could suffer for not having any one moment given more attention than others but never actually does as he jumps from one idea to the next without ever forgetting where he left off or what he did before. The presumably after-the-fact music by Alexander Hohaus ties everything together and the simple but surreal design ties everything together: The greens that dominate tend to be vibrant rather than sickly, and the impossibly wide eyes give the impression of there being more to see.
It's not quite as straight-ahead as its characters are after an enormously powerful energy drink, but it certainly drives them forward and never actually feels like the unconventional production it's eventually revealed to be in the credits.
Watch at the director's website
Freaks
* * * (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Auditorium des Diplômés de la SGWU (Fantasia International Film Festival, DCP)
As much as I do like previews even beyond the way that they give one a heads-up that certain movies even exist, there's a real delight to be found in going into certain movies cold. The one for Freaks, for instance, probably needs to show as much as it does in order to draw its potential audience in, especially in an environment when similar-sounding but much larger things have huge studios behind them to suck up all of the oxygen in the room, but I'm glad I didn't see it until after I saw the movie. I kind of figured it eventually had to go a certain way, but it was thrilling to never be sure which way the movie would jump.
It centers on Chloe (Lexy Kolker), eight years old and living with her father (Emile Hirsch) in what are clearly not the best conditions - squatting in a run-down house, windows covered in newspaper, eating canned goods and being vigilant about outsiders. He drills her on a cover story and doesn't let her watch TV, but she's a clever and curious girl, and has started sneaking out during the rare hours when he lets himself sleep. That's how she meets "Mr. Snowcone" (Bruce Dern), who seems to have positioned his ice-cream truck on this quiet corner just to find her.
The nifty trick here is that filmmakers Zach Lipovsky & Adam B. Stein don't create an idyllic or "normal" setting that they can later reveal as hiding something darker, but instead decide to set off alarm bells from the very start, and then make the audience a little more nervous or queasy with every new piece of information: None of this seems healthy and even once new information starts coming out, there's still a lot of question as to whether it's necessarily unhealthy or compounded bad decisions. They create more uncertainty by telling the story from the point of view of an eight-year-old girl, keeping details out of sight and maybe part of an active imagination. Eventually, it's all out, and audiences will have seen a fair amount of what the filmmakers do before, but the details can still be surprising, and it's built to make knowing who to trust difficult all the way through. It's a layer cake of not being quite sure how to feel next.
Full review at EFilmCritic
American Fighter
* * ½ (out of four)
Seen 28 July 2019 in Salle J.A. DeSève (Fantasia International Film Festival: Action!, DCP)
American Wrestler is, I'm told, a more or less autobiographical story of an immigrant who came to America in the 1970s and integrated through sports, but this sequel isn't what happened next. It's what could have happened, if things had gone a bit differently, and for all that this particular alternate history is capably produced and enjoyable enough if you go for this particular genre, I kind of wonder why you'd stay so close to such a standard template if free to make up a whole new set of circumstances.
It picks up the story of Ali "Al" Jahani (George Kosturos) some time after the first film, now a freshman at Northeastern California University, looking to prove himself on a new wrestling team. He's got more to worry about than most of his teammates; though he has spent the last few years in California with his Uncle Hafez, his parents were just leaving Iran when they were taken off the plane and his father shot. A guy Hafez knows says he can get his ailing mother to America, but it will cost $30,000, an amount that seems impossible for them to raise. Ali's teammate Ryan (Bryan Craig) may know a way, though - there's a guy, McClellen (Tommy Flanagan) who runs underground fight clubs, and though this is the sort of thing that gets you booted off the team if anyone finds out and even cutman Duke (Sean Patrick Flannery) says not to trust the guy, what other options are there?
There is, I suppose, some impressive craft in how everything fits together smoothly enough to have come out of a particularly well-calibrated machine: Yes, there's a super-likable roommate who has an uncle who is just the right amount of shady to be running underground fighting matches, employing a cut-man who is just the right amount of disillusioned but sympathetic, but director Shaun Paul Piccinino and co-writer Carl Morris are good at presenting this sequence as the natural order of things rather than something that should shock viewers who have, more than likely, been watching movies like this since its early-1980s setting. The betrayal comes at the exact moment you expect, and that's the point at which things get a little more strained, as school almost vanishes and the scale of McClellen's operation becomes fuzzier. There are girlfriends who serve little purpose other than making sure one doesn't read too much into how readily Ali's friend is putting his body and place at school on the line for him and some of the most polite and downright apologetic coyotes you'll ever meet.
Full review on EFilmCritic
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