Dispatches from the 2018 Melbourne International Film Festival Part I
With a mentality in fragments and wracked by existential aftershocks, I begin a journey to rediscover life’s value and meaning through film
Film often expresses the swirl of clashing feelings and state of minds that shore up within me better than I can do myself. Often I recede to rudimentary terms to articulate it to others or to myself. And because those foundations are made of sand, the search for meaning in what I do and who I am feels to me a futile effort. I have found myself suspended, unable to crack the numbness that dominates my being. Going to the movies at least offers me the chance to recover that sense of life’s value and humanity.
Festival films tend move in a different gear. The pace can cause restlessness within me, a feeling that I cannot grasp the nuances and resonance of the film. Most often a second viewing would be useful in helping to deepen the experience and the insight to attune my sensibilities to the film.
Leave No Trace — dir. by Debra Granik
From the site: Will (Ben Foster, last seen at MIFF in Hell or High Water, our 2016 closing night film) and his 13-year-old daughter Tom live an idyllic, off-the-grid life deep in the forests of Oregon. It’s not the most typical family set-up, but Will is tormented by the horrors he endured in Iraq and the quietness of the woods is the only thing that stills them. But when their home is discovered, the pair are forced to return to mainstream society, where they’ll have to adapt and learn to rely on the kindness of strangers.
I was fretful, waiting for a response to a message I sent. No one sat next to me at least, and it was warm. I found myself drawn into Leave No Trace , unwillingly at first. A world being created, stoked amid the gathering storm. Things happened. I strain not to use what I had before. Painful memories, the bond of father and daughter without the sheen. It felt true, remarkable in it’s low-key tone. Yet I could not move further into it. I was waiting, for what I do not know. Debra Granik was there in person, I felt a surge of excitement. The chance maybe to talk to her, converse in a meaningful way that wasn’t just some rudimentary film school chit-chat that I presume was undertaken by others.
Frame of mind is important. I could see what the film was providing. The real, the ethereal. A tale of survival, of trauma, of nature’s vastness and our place within it. There’s connection weaving through it, and yet I cannot find my place in it. A gap remains between me and the film. I know there’s an experience of humanistic and heartfelt emotion emanating from Leave No Trace but I can’t seem to grasp it.
Where it moved within reach was that feeling the central characters had of loss and wandering, but that was only my perspective. The daughter, it was all she knew, it was her life. She found places that were her home, adaptable and strong. The father could not escape what he had gone through, it forever haunted him. Desire to continue, don’t stop. Be ahead. The journey won’t find a destination. I thought about how I’ve never been outdoors camping, never started a fire, or slept under the stars. Never rested near a stream or foraged food. Never felt capable. It weighed down upon me, close to breaking point. Let it all out.
An off kilter fairy tale. Paths unseen, beauty without a frame. The wild stretched beyond the horizon, the comforting arms of nature. Inner peace will be elusive. I do not know if the film spoke to me, or I merely gave it a crude translation. I wish I wrote something like that. Relevant, haunting, tender. With rabbits.
Burning — dir. by Lee Chang-dong
From the site: Loosely based on the 1992 Murakami story, Lee’s (Poetry, MIFF 2010; Oasis, MIFF 2002) much-anticipated new work evolves from a meet-cute between delivery man Jongu and old friend Haemi, who disappears to Africa only to return with Ben, a rich, enigmatic playboy with a dark and strange hobby.
The cells in our bodies regenerate and are replaced over the years so that the ones that made up who we are when are born are barely a memory when we’re a tentative adult. Same but different. It remains imperceptible to us, we don’t feel the changes happening at that level of existence but it continues to flow. Independent of us.
What Burning offered with it’s final shot was transformation. A totally different beast. Only shocking in retrospect. A cold tingle that creeps through the veins of the perplexing and challenging narrative. It’s a beautifully constructed piece of abstract metamorphosis that elicits admiration and respect more than resonance. A patience tester that really stretches the meaning of slow burn. The embers are miniscule and most of it turns into smoke, vanishing into the thin air.
The characters remain distant, even as their rawness exudes from the screen. Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in) is a young man who is sort of a writer and loaded with plenty of uncertainty after graduating university and he reconnects with a girl he grew up with, Hai-mi (Jean-Jong-seo) who travels to Africa whereupon she returns home with a mysterious man named Ben (Steven Yeun). It’s stately pace feels like a well constructed rendition of a dream that flutters on the boundaries of a nightmare.
An unusual rhythm or an obtuse presence. A story that floats through several stages of change. Film’s elasticity in full effect, boldness in experimentation. I admire that. Again though, the restlessness. It tagged onto me. I was lost in the film, and yet distracted at the same time. Why? Why were they doing what they were doing? Why did Jong-su just let it unfold like it did? It felt infuriating to watch them act so…powerless. Hai-mi seems like she’s ready to crack. Presented as a toy, for amusement to others well endowed. Dimensions creasing out but never completely. The feeling was strange, untethered and it just sat there.
First Reformed — dir. by Paul Schrader
From the site: In a remote part of upstate New York, Ernst Toller (Hawke), a reverend haunted by the death of his son, becomes inescapably drawn into the lives of new parishioners Michael (Phillip Ettinger) and Mary (Amanda Seyfried). The young couple’s marriage is being wrenched apart by Michael’s fixation on the coming environmental apocalypse and when Ernst realises the true depth of Michael’s fervour, he is set on a path he never expected.
How can one afford to feel in a time like this? Where all the dials are turned up beyond 11 and sensibilities alternate violently over an abyss that used to be a middle ground. To let yourself be exposed to the cacophonous noise of the world where everyone is desperate to stand out and be heard. The confluence of emotions being twisted into something that can be framed in an Instagram post. This anger festers under the shadow and all it needs is a little push for it to explode into the light. Directionless, powerful and yet still trapped in the narrow view of an individual who is nothing but a speck against the great indifference of the world.
I was unsettled by what I had seen. For I saw much of my sorrow and hopeless frustration in Pastor Toller’s existential struggle. I did not know what to feel. It was confusing and drifting. Words fail me for I fear there is a truth in it that I could not crystallize. I did not want to make it clear. That there is nothing here for me to hold onto. And yet paradoxically it instilled a hazy tinge of…well not joy but appreciation that such a story could be constructed so beautifully in the face of the consuming void.
Ambiguous ending. Yawning despair. The bitter cold. The brutal dread of reality. A man of conflicted faith caught in a hurricane of apocalyptic turmoil. Holding on to the remnants of hope. The pain emanating. Reflecting my own. The impotent rage. The railing against the cosmic enemy. The human cost. That epiphany of just how hopeless this might all be. The transient and abhorrent nature of extremism. Push and pull. How far before one cracks. I ramble on. I could refine things but there’s already too much curating going on the world.
It lingers with me. I do not feel better yet I cannot stop thinking about it. There’s so much that just worked that I find myself considering if there is a better film I have seen this year. But what would the point of that be right? I went further into the maw but how far dare I go with it, before I’m unable to return. The…ending baffles me. Circling around Toller and Mary, holding, holding hold-
There is no release. But it is enthralling. Maybe darkness can be frustrated into oblivion.
