(no subject)
Feb. 29th, 2004 12:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jaalaI have seen four feature-length films today. This fact astounds me. But then again, this was my first time volunteering at a film festival and having access to free movies. Films seen today (in the order I saw them): Falling Angels, Love That Boy, Moving Malcolm, and Luck. Yesterday, I saw The Corporation, and The Statement.
Falling Angels is well crafted if somewhat disjointed, beautifully filmed, emotionally affecting, funny and also extremely sad; I lost track of how many times it made me cry. The three young stars are phenomenal. Callum Keith Rennie is perfect, natch, and Miranda Richardson is very good as well. Mark McKinney is unbelievably creepy in his role. Hurray for Ken Whiteley's soundtrack! The producer and two of the starring actresses were there for a Q&A session after the movie but I was called away to usher in the hallway... bugger.
Love That Boy is that rare beast: an enjoyable, non-formulaic, believable, well acted, quirky but not insufferable, modest little romantic comedy. The central character is quite irritating at first but you come to actually care about her. I appreciated seeing a protagonist just as socially inept as me. (Though, unlike me, this is made up for by her overachievement in just about everything else. And she's not shy. And I hope I'm not that annoying.)
I started off finding Moving Malcolm not nearly so hilarious as a women at Falling Angels had described it. By the end of its 83 minutes, I hated it and was sorry I wasted eight dollars. I would have walked out if I wasn't worried about disturbing other patrons. The plot... no wait, there wasn't one. Aside from Malcolm (John Neville), I frankly didn't give a shit about the characters. A lot of jokes fall flat; random pepperings of needless profanity don't make them any funnier (cf. Luck, where a number of profanity-laced moments were funny). Most of what I think was meant to be cute and whimsical came across as stupid, sophomoric, or simply "What the f---?" The disabled sister is meant to be something like Leonardo DiCaprio's character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, I suppose, but she is neither funny or sympathetic. Some of the acting is actually okay (especially Neville's) but it can't make this into a decent movie.
*
Luck, from the director of Joe's So Mean to Josephine, was far and away my favourite movie of the day; it was funny and touching and it has effective cliffhanger plot twists. I appreciated its unabashed Canadian-ness but it's not the usual type of bizarre, extremely dark Canadian film. (Not that I have any objection to those--see Falling Angels above.) My extremely positive reaction to it was almost certainly influenced by my sheer relief at seeing a movie with a sense of coherence immediately after Moving Malcolm. It allowed me to leave the theatre not feeling disgusted. And I admit, with some guilt, that I was enjoying playing my usual Canadian actor spotting game (Look! Guy from Twitch City! Paul O'Sullivan!). All the same, a lot of other audience members--male and female--seemed really into the experience as well. The producer was enthusiastically well received at the Q&A afterwards. Many older audience members commented on the accuracy of its portrayal of Canada in the 1970s (i.e. non-kitschy). The film was even treated (I don't remember the technical term--"washed?") to give it a hint of the appearance of 1970s movies.
Much of the plot concerns gambling, a subject about which I know next to nothing. I liked that I could follow it and found it compelling even though I'm clueless about casino tables, horse betting, odds, or "running a book" (or whatever it was called). I "couldn't bear to watch but couldn't look away" as the central character digs himself further and further into debt. Luke Kirby carries the film well despite his inexperience in that medium. Even though key plot points hinge upon the results of an historic hockey series (Canada vs. USSR 1972) that nearly every Canadian knows the result of, it doesn't make the movie any less interesting.
*
I only saw the first hour of The Corporation because I had to return to my job at the other screen. I quite liked what I saw, that is to say, I was deeply disturbed by what I saw. Comparisons to Bowling For Columbine are apt, though this documentary is more even-handed than Michael Moore tends to be.
I left The Statement thinking, "Well, it wasn't that bad, was it?" (If I'd gone in expecting a masterpiece, I would have been sorely disappointed.) I've read several mediocre to negative reviews but decided to watch it anyway because (a) I got in free, (b) I'd have to stay to clean up afterwards anyway, (c) I get the impression Norman Jewison doesn't generally make awful movies, and (d) Michael Caine is usually good. Once again, I am left to ponder why so many Canadian movies (e.g. Felicia's Journey, The Sweet Hereafter, Emile) have British stars. This one shouldn't really be called a "Canadian film" as it takes place in France, uses mostly British actors (besides William Hutt, as far as I could tell) and has no discernable Canadian content or characters whatsoever aside from one assassin (killed off early), a fake Canadian passport, and one joke. (Brossard, upon receiving the passport: "Quebec? That's Canada. They speak French, right?" Pochon: "Yes, sometimes.") Its thrills and chills work okay, I think, as do Caine's schizophrenic characterization of Pierre Brossard: I could never decide if he was a hateful killer or a pitiable victim.
I had a lot of fun volunteering at the festival. In fact, I wish I'd been signed up for more hours; I found myself answering questions and directing people even when I wasn't "on duty". Dealing directly with patrons (as ticket-taker and usher) but in a moderately low-stress environment increased my confidence level, I think. Give me a specifically defined role and it looks like I can handle anonymous social interaction! I got to interact with several nifty volunteers as well. Keep in mind that these are people volunteering at a Canadian film festival; they're bound to be eccentric.
It was neat to see "behind the scenes": I witnessed both the inside of two projectionist's rooms and the frantic phone calls and running around that took place whenever technical equipment stopped working. Love That Boy was delayed for more than half an hour because the sound for the preceding short wasn't working and special guests from the Toronto International Film Festival were there specially to see it. In an incredible stroke of luck, one audience member happened to be a professional stand-up comic. Sadly, and entirely too predictably, I completely failed to socialize at the schmoozey reception held Saturday afternoon. It's at times like that when I wish I was able to drink alcohol.
Falling Angels is well crafted if somewhat disjointed, beautifully filmed, emotionally affecting, funny and also extremely sad; I lost track of how many times it made me cry. The three young stars are phenomenal. Callum Keith Rennie is perfect, natch, and Miranda Richardson is very good as well. Mark McKinney is unbelievably creepy in his role. Hurray for Ken Whiteley's soundtrack! The producer and two of the starring actresses were there for a Q&A session after the movie but I was called away to usher in the hallway... bugger.
Love That Boy is that rare beast: an enjoyable, non-formulaic, believable, well acted, quirky but not insufferable, modest little romantic comedy. The central character is quite irritating at first but you come to actually care about her. I appreciated seeing a protagonist just as socially inept as me. (Though, unlike me, this is made up for by her overachievement in just about everything else. And she's not shy. And I hope I'm not that annoying.)
I started off finding Moving Malcolm not nearly so hilarious as a women at Falling Angels had described it. By the end of its 83 minutes, I hated it and was sorry I wasted eight dollars. I would have walked out if I wasn't worried about disturbing other patrons. The plot... no wait, there wasn't one. Aside from Malcolm (John Neville), I frankly didn't give a shit about the characters. A lot of jokes fall flat; random pepperings of needless profanity don't make them any funnier (cf. Luck, where a number of profanity-laced moments were funny). Most of what I think was meant to be cute and whimsical came across as stupid, sophomoric, or simply "What the f---?" The disabled sister is meant to be something like Leonardo DiCaprio's character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, I suppose, but she is neither funny or sympathetic. Some of the acting is actually okay (especially Neville's) but it can't make this into a decent movie.
*
Luck, from the director of Joe's So Mean to Josephine, was far and away my favourite movie of the day; it was funny and touching and it has effective cliffhanger plot twists. I appreciated its unabashed Canadian-ness but it's not the usual type of bizarre, extremely dark Canadian film. (Not that I have any objection to those--see Falling Angels above.) My extremely positive reaction to it was almost certainly influenced by my sheer relief at seeing a movie with a sense of coherence immediately after Moving Malcolm. It allowed me to leave the theatre not feeling disgusted. And I admit, with some guilt, that I was enjoying playing my usual Canadian actor spotting game (Look! Guy from Twitch City! Paul O'Sullivan!). All the same, a lot of other audience members--male and female--seemed really into the experience as well. The producer was enthusiastically well received at the Q&A afterwards. Many older audience members commented on the accuracy of its portrayal of Canada in the 1970s (i.e. non-kitschy). The film was even treated (I don't remember the technical term--"washed?") to give it a hint of the appearance of 1970s movies.
Much of the plot concerns gambling, a subject about which I know next to nothing. I liked that I could follow it and found it compelling even though I'm clueless about casino tables, horse betting, odds, or "running a book" (or whatever it was called). I "couldn't bear to watch but couldn't look away" as the central character digs himself further and further into debt. Luke Kirby carries the film well despite his inexperience in that medium. Even though key plot points hinge upon the results of an historic hockey series (Canada vs. USSR 1972) that nearly every Canadian knows the result of, it doesn't make the movie any less interesting.
*
I only saw the first hour of The Corporation because I had to return to my job at the other screen. I quite liked what I saw, that is to say, I was deeply disturbed by what I saw. Comparisons to Bowling For Columbine are apt, though this documentary is more even-handed than Michael Moore tends to be.
I left The Statement thinking, "Well, it wasn't that bad, was it?" (If I'd gone in expecting a masterpiece, I would have been sorely disappointed.) I've read several mediocre to negative reviews but decided to watch it anyway because (a) I got in free, (b) I'd have to stay to clean up afterwards anyway, (c) I get the impression Norman Jewison doesn't generally make awful movies, and (d) Michael Caine is usually good. Once again, I am left to ponder why so many Canadian movies (e.g. Felicia's Journey, The Sweet Hereafter, Emile) have British stars. This one shouldn't really be called a "Canadian film" as it takes place in France, uses mostly British actors (besides William Hutt, as far as I could tell) and has no discernable Canadian content or characters whatsoever aside from one assassin (killed off early), a fake Canadian passport, and one joke. (Brossard, upon receiving the passport: "Quebec? That's Canada. They speak French, right?" Pochon: "Yes, sometimes.") Its thrills and chills work okay, I think, as do Caine's schizophrenic characterization of Pierre Brossard: I could never decide if he was a hateful killer or a pitiable victim.
I had a lot of fun volunteering at the festival. In fact, I wish I'd been signed up for more hours; I found myself answering questions and directing people even when I wasn't "on duty". Dealing directly with patrons (as ticket-taker and usher) but in a moderately low-stress environment increased my confidence level, I think. Give me a specifically defined role and it looks like I can handle anonymous social interaction! I got to interact with several nifty volunteers as well. Keep in mind that these are people volunteering at a Canadian film festival; they're bound to be eccentric.
It was neat to see "behind the scenes": I witnessed both the inside of two projectionist's rooms and the frantic phone calls and running around that took place whenever technical equipment stopped working. Love That Boy was delayed for more than half an hour because the sound for the preceding short wasn't working and special guests from the Toronto International Film Festival were there specially to see it. In an incredible stroke of luck, one audience member happened to be a professional stand-up comic. Sadly, and entirely too predictably, I completely failed to socialize at the schmoozey reception held Saturday afternoon. It's at times like that when I wish I was able to drink alcohol.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-29 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-29 11:44 am (UTC)Sorry I made you feel old.
P.S.
Date: 2004-02-29 11:52 am (UTC)