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"Boxing Gym" (Frederick Wiseman)
What Frederick Wiseman is doing barely constitutes as documentary filmmaking anymore — there's no talking heads, no narration, all sound is diegetic, and only bare bones context is provided. His camera seems to observe interactions between people instead of instigating them, and while that commitment to realism is an admirable one, it's also inherently flawed: We never can be sure the people on camera would act the same without a camera present. Thankfully, this doesn't lessen the intensity — the near hypnotic power — of watching patrons at Richard Lord's Boxing Gym partake in their physical routines.
Newbies to the gym are instructed to bounce a sledge hammer against a rubber tire (a means of finding a comfortable rhythm), while more accomplished athletes spar with each other inside the ring, and bodies of all builds and experience test their limits and work to surpass them. The pleasures of "Boxing Gym" are almost entirely elemental: repetition becomes ritual, representing human resilience, body and soul. The film's greatest failing is that most are more familiar with the atmosphere of a gym than, say, the interiors of a ballet school, as chronicled in Wiseman's previous film, "La Danse." Thankfully, Wiseman's latest is half the length of that three-hour documentary, but it still doesn't offer much in the way of insight beyond such startling truths as "Hey, just 'cause they all throw punches 'n stuff doesn't mean they're, y'know, actually violent." In other words, if you go to a gym yourself there's really nothing new here. As a friend suggested just before our screening, "It's Wiseman. You know exactly what you're in for." While efficiently engaging and even memorable, it's tough to deny that the film in our head before seeing "Boxing Gym" is nearly identical to the one in there now. [C+]
"Poetry" (Lee Chang-dong)
Following a string of brilliant character studies, Lee Chang-dong takes down the excellence just a touch for his latest. "Poetry" is Lee's second feature since completing his duties as minister of Culture and Tourism in South Korea, and like "Secret Sunshine" before (along with the earlier "Peppermint Candy," and career-peak "Oasis") it's a psychologically rich and probing drama. Under the microscope this time is Mija, played by award-winning actress Yoon Jeong-hee, whom Lee wrote the part for (her first major role since retiring in the mid '90s). She's fantastic, blending compassionate warmth and soulful remorse, helping "Poetry" earn its richly melancholic tone. Mija's a woman on the verge of a communications breakdown: She struggles to recall nouns, then verbs — the onset of Alzheimer's, say the doctors — and is guardian to a rude teenage grandson who refuses her every display of affection and concern. She also takes a poetry class, and when the ugliest of life's misfortunes threatens the simplicity of her existence, Mija looks to her prose as an expression of her innermost feelings.
The vagueness employed here is intentional — no sense in spoiling the power of experiencing "Poetry's" methodical and controlled progression for yourself. What can be said is the central conflict in many ways refracts that of Bong Joon-ho's "Mother" (which likewise played both Cannes and Toronto), subbing out Kurosawa-esque procedural movements for something along the lines of an understated meditation on communal and family relationships, closer in its unhurried style to Ozu or Mikio Naruse. But where "Mother" and "Poetry" really dovetail is in their handling of a late-film moral crisis — instead of descending into vigilantism, as Bong's film does, Lee arrives at something more poignant, an affecting finale which utilizes actual poetry in a better, non-pretentious way than near any film this writer can think of. [B] —Reviews by Sam C. Mac, courtesy of In Review Online
Earlier today we sort of suggested that our TIFF 2010 coverage was over. Oops, we lied....
Tetsuya Nakashima's "Confessions" is a wrongheaded morality-play. It's being billed as a revenge flick, but the cruelty in it stems less from any kind of justified retaliation and more from a deep-seated rottenness the filmmaker seems to feel has reached epidemic levels in today's Japan. It hasn't; Nakashima is just profoundly dumb. From his visual style — a muddle of slow-mo, rapid cutting, and unjustified switch-hitting between regular film stock and grainy super16 — to his histrionic script — needlessly underscored by relentless, self-consciously explanatory narration from each major character — Nakashima never for a moment lets "Confessions" become anything resembling human.
Not that all movies have to be realistic, just believable, at least in the context they've established. But the bigger problem is that Nakashima clearly intends "Confessions" to be more than just a depraved cartoon — he might even even look at this nonsense as some kind of insightful commentary on the corruptible nature of violence (like, yikes). Instead, his ludicrous narrative, which begins in a classroom, as children slurp down their afternoon milk and their beautiful young teacher (Takako Matsu) watches vacantly, just ups the crazy quotient moment to moment: Dead kids! Kids killing their moms! Killing their friends! Blowing up schools! Then there's that opening, during which teach informs her misbehaving class that she's injected two of their milk cartons with blood from her dead, HIV-infected husband. Not even Kidding.
All this is accompanied by a long monologue, during which the teacher recites, in excruciating detail, all the events that led up to the death of her toddler daughter, and her subsequent decision to take revenge on the two students who killed her. Said students can only listen in terror, either because, y'know, they may now be HIV-positive, or more likely because her sad, silly tale is also really boring. Though even by this point "Confessions" wasn't totally a lost cause, not until sometime around the seventh or eighth retelling of this same story, from the perspective of the two students themselves, their mothers, a girl from school (for some reason), the teacher again, and probably someone else I'm forgetting. This tedious repetition, coupled with a kind of Chinese Water Torture exercise of using the same three songs on repeat — Radiohead's "Last Flowers," Boris' "Rainbow," and Johann Sebastian Bach's overused "Air, Suite No. 3" — made that 'Exit' sign look oh so desirable.
But this writer didn't really check out until "Confessions" started trying to explain away the truly evil psychology of Child Murderer No. 1 with a mommy-issues device, and subsequently a cruel bit of irony that forces the kid to (Spoiler alert) but not really since the movie suggests it's all a joke) kill his mom. "Confessions" is the kind of dreck that might be easier to swallow if it acknowledged its own exploitation intents, but with every heavy-handed use of slow-mo, and with every cycle through that fucking "Air" song, it becomes more and more clear how seriously Nakashima takes his sadistic character study. And after being put through the ringer for two hours by this self-righteous maniac, I kind of wanted to force feed him some HIV milk myself. [F] Sam C. Mac, courtesy of In Review Online.
This year The Playlist hit TIFF in a big way, seeing over 25 films in 11 days (not counting the few we walked out of) and while we're tired, still chasing up on emails and trying to catch our breath, it was a lot of fun.
The week and a half of the festival is now a blur in the rearview, but in order to reassess and put everything in one place, here are all the reviews of the films we saw at TIFF. Consider it a handy guide to our thoughts on films that will be hitting theaters over the next year. It was a very successful acquisitions year at TIFF and most of these titles will be getting some sort of release.
Thank you Toronto, we'll see you again next year.
The Good
Danny Boyle provides one of the most exhilarating cinematic rides of the year in "127 Hours," finding a deeply humane and affecting heart in the raw and gritty story of Aron Ralston who had to cut off his own arm to save his life when trapped in a canyon.
Ben Affleck's sophomore directorial effort "The Town" is a straight genre film done with a high level of execution. Centered around a gang of criminals trying to outrun their fate, the film is centered around three breathless heist sequences, each more thrilling than the last.
"Easy Money" aka "Snabba Cash" lived up to the buzz the picture received after it debuted at Berlin earlier this year. The film takes "get rich or die trying" to a whole new level.
Narrated by Matt Damon, the actor's voice might be the only soothing element of Charles Ferguson's exhaustively researched and thoroughly infuriating and fascinating documentary on the financial crisis, "Inside Job."
"Black Swan" impressed both of the The Playlist team who caught the film. Darren Aronofsky directs what may be his grandest ballet, in a tale that marks the mental and physical toll of the pursuit of artistic perfection.
We didn't think it would ever happen, but a solid, funny, breezy, female-led comedy has arrived in "Easy A" and it delivers big laughs and a star making turn by Emma Stone.
Will Ferrell makes the strongest case yet as a dramatic actor with the tender and winning "Everything Must Go," in which he plays an alcoholic at the end of his rope.
Fans will breathe a sigh of relief because Matt Reeves' "Let Me In," a remake of the idolized "Let The Right One In" hits all the same notes but with a surprising freshness.
Errol Morris brings his strangest tale yet in "Tabloid," a highly entertaining and riveting tale about Mormons, sex and an ex-beauty queen.
Nicole Kidman launched herself in the Oscar race with a powerful turn in John Cameron Mitchell's tale of the lasting wound of grief, "Rabbit Hole."
Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams shine in the documentary-like tale of a relationship in tragic free-fall in "Blue Valentine."
Though Kelly Reichardt's latest, "Meek's Cutoff" slightly split The Playlist team, we can definitely agree it's worth your time, boasting gorgeous Academy-ratio cinematography, solid performances and an observational tone.
Gareth Edwards' alien invasion road movie "Monsters" is a clever take on the already over-saturated genre.
John Sayles independent film (natch) "Amigo" succeeds in drawing parallels between current American policy and past history without belaboring the point.
Spanish film "Guest" is a fascinating, humanist documentary snapshot created on his tour of the festival circuit.
"The Four Times" is a playful parable about an elderly man in a small Italian village who is inching closer to the grave.
"Blame" is a taut, workmanlike thriller that marks the arrival of Australian director Michael Henry. Hollywood will be calling.
The Wavelengths program impressed with its run of avant-garde, outsider works.
The Sorta Good
Coming into TIFF riding a wave of strong buzz, Mark Romanek's "Never Let Me Go" failed to stir our hearts, though it did look absolutely great.
Woody Allen turns in his annual film with "You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger" a charming if overly familiar effort that isn't without a few sour notes.
Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden go mainstream with their psych room dramedy "It's Kind Of A Funny Story" and it doesn't quite work, resembling a pastiche of other "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest"-inspired films.
Though the Wes Anderson derivativeness turned us off, Max Winkler's debut feature "Ceremony" does feature strong performances — particularly from Michael Angarano and Jake Johnson — as well as a handful of strong scenes that make the writer/director one to watch.
Werner Herzog's first foray into 3D filmmaking "Cave Of Forgotten Dreams" is another familiar if unremarkable documentary from the director.
The Ugly
"Buried" arrives with a high concept premise but can't get out of the box (ha ha). Shoehorning in a cheap message about the Iraq war, Ryan Reynolds spirited performance can't save a weak script and one-trick directing.
Feeling like a History Channel movie-of-the-week, Robert Redford's "The Conspirator" buries an interesting story about the conspiracy to assassinate Abraham Lincoln with a tedious political screed.
Clint Eastwood's treatise on death, "Hereafter," can't survive an inept screenplay, poor dialogue and a distancing narrative.
Keanu Reeves' latest "Henry's Crime" is a crime film/rom-com that doesn't have the juice to sustain its running time and confirms the actor should stick to films that can work with his limited range.
A complete and total misfire, Dustin Lance Black delivers an outright bomb with his tonally strange, everything-and-the-kitchen-sink satire/drama/camp film "What's Wrong With Viriginia."
Described as "Saved By The Bell" meets "Lost Highway" while on Ecstasy, "Kaboom" finds Gregg Araki still trying to make a film within the same ballpark of quality as "Mysterious Skin."
Mickey Rourke and Megan Fox fall flat on their faces in Mitch Glazer's embarrassing "Passion Play."
"Boxing Gym" (Frederick Wiseman)
Newbies to the gym are instructed to bounce a sledge hammer against a rubber tire (a means of finding a comfortable rhythm), while more accomplished athletes spar with each other inside the ring, and bodies of all builds and experience test their limits and work to surpass them. The pleasures of "Boxing Gym" are almost entirely elemental: repetition becomes ritual, representing human resilience, body and soul. The film's greatest failing is that most are more familiar with the atmosphere of a gym than, say, the interiors of a ballet school, as chronicled in Wiseman's previous film, "La Danse." Thankfully, Wiseman's latest is half the length of that three-hour documentary, but it still doesn't offer much in the way of insight beyond such startling truths as "Hey, just 'cause they all throw punches 'n stuff doesn't mean they're, y'know, actually violent." In other words, if you go to a gym yourself there's really nothing new here. As a friend suggested just before our screening, "It's Wiseman. You know exactly what you're in for." While efficiently engaging and even memorable, it's tough to deny that the film in our head before seeing "Boxing Gym" is nearly identical to the one in there now. [C+]
"Poetry" (Lee Chang-dong)
