Guilie Castillo-Oriard's Blog, page 2

Neruda: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Neruda, Pablo Larraín was the only director to have two films at the festival: Jackie , and this one. Both extraordinary, as different from each other as oil and water, both clear evidence—maybe even more so taken like this, together—of Larraín's exceptional talent for narrative and conceptualization.

If Larraín's name sounds familiar, it might be because his latest production, Una Mujer Fantástica (2017), won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film at this latest edition of the Academy Awards. Or perhaps you saw No back in 2012, which also starred Mexican actor and activist 
In Neruda, García Bernal plays the bad guy. Well, sort of; he is the main character (arguably—and they do argue this in the film), in the sense that the film depicts his journey from 'bad' guy (the police inspector chasing Neruda, who's become a fugitive in his native Chile after joining the Communist party) to... well, if I tell you that, I'd be spoiling the entire film for you.

Suffice it to say this: Neruda is as far from Il Postino  as one can get. (And, as far as 'poetry' films go, it's an entirely different universe from Paterson .) I don't mean just in the context of filmmaking or cinematography or narrative style—although, yes, there is that. But the Neruda we see in Larraín's production is the politician, the activist, the figurehead for social upheaval, as much as he is The Poet—and in the process of portraying this 'other' side of the man, Larraín's achievement is to give this Poet, a mythical, almost ethereal, creature, a dimension of humanity and reality that makes him—Neruda—all the more indelible as a historical figure. And—perhaps most importantly—translates his poetry into the language it was always meant to speak: the political.

Ang��lica: Reviews from the 2017 Cura��ao Film Festival #ciffr

Ang��lica, , 2016Saturday, April 8th, 2017, 21:45
Another glorious, glorious portrait on race and the roles women play���by pressure, by tradition, by choice. One of the underlying threads of Ang��lica, one which touched me deeply, is the mother-daughter relationship. As with Julieta , this is a troubled relationship, further complicated by racial issues (mom is white, daughter is mixed)���but this racial difference, apparently only a surface one, serves to symbolize a deeper divide, one most appropriately blamed on generational gaps, and���coming full circle���on the ways perception of darker skin has evolved (and has yet to evolve).

I believe this is director & screenwriter Marisol G��mez-Mouakad's formal debut, and, yes, there are some bits of production that could be improved on. The budget clearly didn't cover extensive filming in NYC, so the bits set there may seem somewhat raw and unpolished. Some of the post-production could also do with some work; editing and continuity issues, but mostly minor. It's clear, however, that Ms. G��mez-Mouakad is a talent to be watched in coming years. There are many���many���long-time filmmakers who can't come within ten feet of her sensibility and sheer storytelling power.
Above all, this is a story about finding ourselves���our self, the true one, the one that doesn't hinge on approval from the ones we love, or the ones who profess to love us���and about what it takes to be true to it. It is a film about love, too; the romantic variety, and the familial one. It is a film about dreams, the ones we forget, and the ones that somehow find their way back to us.

Angélica: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #ciffr

Angélica, Another glorious, glorious portrait on race and the roles women play—by pressure, by tradition, by choice. One of the underlying threads of Angélica, one which touched me deeply, is the mother-daughter relationship. As with Julieta , this is a troubled relationship, further complicated by racial issues (mom is white, daughter is mixed)—but this racial difference, apparently only a surface one, serves to symbolize a deeper divide, one most appropriately blamed on generational gaps, and—coming full circle—on the ways perception of darker skin has evolved (and has yet to evolve).

I believe this is director & screenwriter Marisol Gómez-Mouakad's formal debut, and, yes, there are some bits of production that could be improved on. The budget clearly didn't cover extensive filming in NYC, so the bits set there may seem somewhat raw and unpolished. Some of the post-production could also do with some work; editing and continuity issues, but mostly minor. It's clear, however, that Ms. Gómez-Mouakad is a talent to be watched in coming years. There are many—many—long-time filmmakers who can't come within ten feet of her sensibility and sheer storytelling power.
Above all, this is a story about finding ourselves—our self, the true one, the one that doesn't hinge on approval from the ones we love, or the ones who profess to love us—and about what it takes to be true to it. It is a film about love, too; the romantic variety, and the familial one. It is a film about dreams, the ones we forget, and the ones that somehow find their way back to us.

American Honey: Reviews from the 2018 Cura��ao Film Festival #CIFFR

American Honey, , 2016Saturday, April 8th, 2017, 15:45
This one surprised me. As much as my interest was piqued by the trailer and the summary in the festival booklet, I didn't expect it to be quite so powerful. I think I imagined something of a period piece, a bit of The Breakfast Club  meets a millennial's version of Kerouac's On the Road. And... well, yes, it is that. But it's so much more.

Before we get into the more, though, let me just say the 'period piece' bits have huge, huge value. For me, a solid Gen-X member, this film touched on some of the crucial aspects���aspects I had nowhere to even begin to understand���about the generation who graduated high school within the last five years. The sense of entitlement, for instance. Which extends into an appalling lack of respect for any form of authority. Yes, this is nothing new (Kerouac & Co., and every budding generation since), but these 'new' kids seem to be taking it to a whole new level, at least to this jaded 'old woman'. So a lot of the surprise aspect of this film was the insight into these young minds, and the empathy I felt growing as I accepted the invite to walk in their shoes.

And then there's the more. This film could have easily fallen into the Breakfast Club trap���probably would have, if made by a U.S. director, or a male director. Andrea Arnold (UK), however, turned this into not just a statement about the new generation but about the U.S.���and wealth inequality, and the role of women in society, and double standards (not just moral but economic), and capitalism, and how all of this contributes to the erosion of self-esteem.

Wow, huh?

AND THE MUSIC!!!!! The soundtrack of this film is brilliant. Granted, except for a couple of exceptions (Fade Into You, by Mazzy Star, is one of my all-time favorite songs), I knew none of the songs/performers, and, honestly, you probably won't find me listening to many of them by choice (like Kevin Gates, or something���someone?���called E-40, for instance... I'm sure they have their value, but I prefer my poetry delivered by means of less monotony... but I dare you to listen to The Raveonettes' Recharge & Reload, or Steve Earle's Copperhead Road [linked below], and not get road-trip fever). In the context of the film, however, the lineup works beautifully. The cinematography���camera direction, post-production, etc.���is a work of art that would hold its own anywhere-anyhow, but add the soundtrack and... BOOM.

Magic.

American Honey: Reviews from the 2018 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

American Honey, This one surprised me. As much as my interest was piqued by the trailer and the summary in the festival booklet, I didn't expect it to be quite so powerful. I think I imagined something of a period piece, a bit of The Breakfast Club  meets a millennial's version of Kerouac's On the Road. And... well, yes, it is that. But it's so much more.


And then there's the more. This film could have easily fallen into the Breakfast Club trap—probably would have, if made by a U.S. director, or a male director. Andrea Arnold (UK), however, turned this into not just a statement about the new generation but about the U.S.—and wealth inequality, and the role of women in society, and double standards (not just moral but economic), and capitalism, and how all of this contributes to the erosion of self-esteem.

Wow, huh?

AND THE MUSIC!!!!! The soundtrack of this film is brilliant. Granted, except for a couple of exceptions (Fade Into You, by Mazzy Star, is one of my all-time favorite songs), I knew none of the songs/performers, and, honestly, you probably won't find me listening to many of them by choice (like Kevin Gates, or something—someone?—called E-40, for instance... I'm sure they have their value, but I prefer my poetry delivered by means of less monotony... but I dare you to listen to The Raveonettes' Recharge & Reload, or Steve Earle's Copperhead Road [linked below], and not get road-trip fever). In the context of the film, however, the lineup works beautifully. The cinematography—camera direction, post-production, etc.—is a work of art that would hold its own anywhere-anyhow, but add the soundtrack and... BOOM.

Magic.

I Am Not Your Negro: Reviews from the 2018 Cura��ao Film Festival #CIFFR

Everything you've heard about this film is wrong. Okay, not wrong, just not... enough. There are no words to describe the power here, the tragedy, the desperate reaching for hope in the face of all the futility. This is, quite simply, the greatest documentary you will ever see. It will touch you���change you���in ways you didn't even think possible.

Woven from James Baldwin's unfinished novel, Remember This House, given voice in the sober tones of Samuel L. Jackson, and given flesh and blood by director 's extraordinary talent, this is not just an eloquent portrait of Baldwin or of his own story, but of the story of race in the United States���right up to the present day, and beyond.

The story of the Negro in America is the story of America. It is not a pretty story.

Coming on the wake of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, all the focus on racial injustice for decades and centuries���and happening today, still���this couldn't be a more timely film. 
Although Cura��ao is far, far from the racial inequality so prevalent in the U.S., there is still quite a bit of it; in different shapes, in different tones, but still there. (Here.) One of the things that angers me the most is hearing white (or white-ish) people saying, "This whole slavery thing, man���just get over it!" For years I've struggled with a response for that���a response not just appropriate but effective���and I never managed to come up with anything satisfying. Now, finally, I can give them a rather condescending smile and say, "Have you seen I Am Not Your Negro?"

I am not a nigger. I am a man. But if you think I am, it means you need it. And you've got to find out why.

I Am Not Your Negro: Reviews from the 2018 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Everything you've heard about this film is wrong. Okay, not wrong, just not... enough. There are no words to describe the power here, the tragedy, the desperate reaching for hope in the face of all the futility. This is, quite simply, the greatest documentary you will ever see. It will touch you—change you—in ways you didn't even think possible.

Woven from James Baldwin's unfinished novel, Remember This House, given voice in the sober tones of Samuel L. Jackson, and given flesh and blood by director

The story of the Negro in America is the story of America. It is not a pretty story.

Coming on the wake of the #BlackLivesMatter movement, all the focus on racial injustice for decades and centuries—and happening today, still—this couldn't be a more timely film. 
Although Curaçao is far, far from the racial inequality so prevalent in the U.S., there is still quite a bit of it; in different shapes, in different tones, but still there. (Here.) One of the things that angers me the most is hearing white (or white-ish) people saying, "This whole slavery thing, man—just get over it!" For years I've struggled with a response for that—a response not just appropriate but effective—and I never managed to come up with anything satisfying. Now, finally, I can give them a rather condescending smile and say, "Have you seen I Am Not Your Negro?"

I am not a nigger. I am a man. But if you think I am, it means you need it. And you've got to find out why.

Elle (Paul Verhoeven): Reviews from the Curaçao Film Festival 2017 #CIFFR

Elle,
Oh, how I hated this one. I should have known; Mr. Verhoeven and I rarely see eye to misogynous, chauvinistic eye. This film is, quite bluntly, about a woman who gets raped and enjoys it. Yes: enjoys it. The rape, in fact, turns her on so much that she deliberately goes after the rapist—not to exact vengeance, mind you (or castrate him, or cut his throat in the middle of the night), but to get raped again. And again.

And the idiot the director has the balls to call it a film about female empowerment. I suppose that, in Mr. Verhoeven's world, the only power women need to aspire to is that of loving their abusers.

The female lead, Isabelle Huppert, won Best Actress at the Golden Globes last year. And well deserved. She managed to translate into reality the twisted, masturbatory fantasies inside the cesspool that must be Verhoeven's head.

Unless you're looking to be profoundly disgusted—as if the world weren't offering enough of that already—do yourself a favor and skip this one.

Paterson: Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

Paterson, This was one of the films presented under the 'Poetry in Motion' theme (along with Neruda , Il Postino  [presented together, which made a lovely pair], and a documentary, Astrid H. Roemer—The World Has Lost Face [which we missed]). Adam Driver, known to more mainstream fans as patricidal Kylo Ren of the latest Star Wars trilogy, gives an outstanding performance here (and so regained the respect of the not-so-mainstream fans) as a bus driver who possesses, rather unexpectedly, the heart and mind of a poet. The beauty here is in how—much like Paterson author William Carlos William himself—this driver/poet finds not just inspiration but reason for awe and wonder in the everyday happenings of his life: in tiny, unplanned variations in his routine, in the passengers he drives and the conversations he overhears, in his quirky wife's black-and-white obsession, in his rather reluctant walks with the most personable bulldog ever. In the mundane, in short. And because we watch him do this, remark and marvel and try to capture these mundane things, we are infected by it. One walks out of this film with eyes and ears and all senses re-attuned to find beauty in the world.

Of course this resonated with me doubly... The Miracle of Small Things  is, after all, a similar (if different in style, and much less competent) attempt to reveal and highlight the beauty in the details. So perhaps I'm a little biased. But it did win 7 out of 34 nominations.

The film surprised me in one way: I didn't expect the humor. Poetry is notoriously perceived as sober, even solemn—unless one is introduced early to Shel Silverstein. I expected... well, not laughs. But laughs there are, and plenty of them. It's a meditation, certainly; one packaged not in a jagged pill but rather a smooth, even refreshing, drink.

It's a film about joy, and joy permeats every aspect of it. Poet fan or not, one leaves the theater feeling uplifted in tangible ways.

El Vigilante (The Night Guard): Reviews from the 2017 Curaçao Film Festival #CIFFR

El Vigilante, Diego Ros, 2016Friday, April 7th, 2017, 13:30
This was one of the three Mexican films in the festival. I loved it, but several other people I spoke to (including Cor, my partner) found it a bit confusing. I hadn't realized it until they mentioned it: this film is uniquely Mexican in the sense that it portrays our idiosyncracy beautifully—our weird sense of loyalty, our mistrust of authority, our ties to family, our deference to employers—to the point where the plot hinges on it. So, if you're not Mexican, you'll probably walk away scratching your head a bit. But why didn't he just tell the truth from the beginning? Would've solved everything.

That said, as a thriller it has some very powerful moments. The cinematography is masterful, Buñuel-esque, using the construction site, the setting of the story, to full advantage. The acting, even from minor or incidental characters, is natural and fully believable. The film, director Diego Ros's debut, won Best Film in the Los Angeles Film Festival last year, as well as Best Film and Best Actor in the Morelia festival in 2016, so I'm evidently not alone in praising it.

If you like thrillers, especially of the psychological kind, you may want to give this one a try.

(Sorry about the trailer; couldn't find one with English subtitles. But you can perhaps gain a bit of insight of what I meant about the cinematography.)