Belated BIFF 2006 Round-up

Well, the time draws nigh when, if I were in Brisbane, I would be getting all excited about another BIFF: Brisbane International Film Festival. Seeing that I won’t have the opportunity to see any BIFF movies this year, I shall mark the occassion and dampen my nostalgia with this extremely belated post.

Let me start with our selection process. You see, BIFF runs for 10 days and shows “more than 200 films” (from BIFF’s promotional). I have been doing this ever since I turned 18 (some of the movies have not been classified by the Office of Film and Literature Classification – Australia’s resident censorial board – and so one must not be of tender years and disposition to watch). My first ever BIFF, I saw five films. Each year, it increased as I got more money. Then, for my 21^st, my delightful family got me a you-can-go-to-every-single-session Gold Pass. Plus they gave me some spending money so that I would remember to eat, too. Most years, I fall sick following BIFF – too many late nights, too little food = immune system kaput.

The very first thing to do is ascertain what you can afford money-wise and time-wise. These days, money is less of an issue and time much more so. Back in the good ol’ university days, it was the other way around. I keep telling myself that I will take my annual leave during BIFF – but it seems like such a waste. I’m just hanging around the city, after all.

Next, you purchase the BIFF programme. Sure, there’s a free one – but it doesn’t tell you anywhere near enough information to ensure a well informed and suitably discriminating choice. I nevertheless pick up a few of these free ones and drop them off to friends and acquaintainces; to encourage them.

Then, you make a list as you read the programme cover to cover. The list should have three symbols (you may chose what symbols you wish, but I prefer the following):-

* – must see

@ – really want to see

~ – want to see

The way I ascertain my must sees / really want to sees and want to sees is a combination of factors: director (very important), whether I predict wider distribution, country of origin, synopsis, reviewer. No one factor takes precedence over another. Although predicted wider distribution will usually rule out a film pretty quickly.

Last, you try to convert your list of movies into a workable timetable. This is the tricky part as you juggle clashes and (sigh) working the 0830 to 1800 grind. In 2006, we had the aid of a spiffy Excel spreadsheet – colour co-ordinated and all.

I have a few film buddies, and they sometimes derail my choices. This is okay – it’s part of the fun. One of the joys of BIFF is being told by a fellow film buff, or even a complete stranger, how great a film was, and when it’s next on. Then the balancing act of whether to remain with the well thought out timetable or throw caution to the wind and exchange tickets. I’ve seen some real gems in the ‘throwing caution to the winds’ fashion.

And then, for about two weeks, you rarely eat at home, you rush from work into the cinema, from one cinema into another and then stagger home, exhausted from the visual and emotional stimulation. Then you wake up and start it all over again. Oh, and you have to drink plenty of coffee and eat lots of chocolate. Sadly, halfway through this year’s BIFF I had to give up coffee. I was a tetchy zombie for a good part of BIFF.

But I suppose you are more interested in the films?

This is a list of my highlights.

I’ll let you google the synopses and give only my impressions. If you saw / will see any of these, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The expected delights:-

- Jan Svankmeyer’s Lunacy

I have loved Jan Svankmeyer ever since I first saw Conspirators of Pleasure. He has such a tactile appreciation of how humans interact. This one showed lots of slabs of steak and sausages rolling about and working their way to empty skulls to flesh them out, as a thematic structure for the madhouse goings-on of the plot.

- The Cave of the Yellow Dog

By the same director who made The Story of the Weeping Camel, this is another vehicle for a nomadic Mongolian family to show off just how incredibly cute their children are. My favourite part is where the young girl – who is effectively the lead – keeps trying to bite the middle of her palm (part of a lesson her mother teaches her). “It seems so close, yet you cannot have it,” Mother says. And Mother is right.

- Everlasting Regret

By Stanley Kwan, he of ‘Lan Yu‘ and ‘Red Rose, White Rose‘ fame. Mesmerisingly shot, stylish and quiet – one gets a keen sense of the main character’s desperation and sheer determination. You could compare it to In the Mood for Love if you were being lazy.

The quirky joys:-

- Executive Koala

A koala in a business suit, who works for a rabbit (also in a business suit), goes on a killing rampage in Tokyo. The finale battle scene where everyone revives, hugs each other and then fireworks go off is inanely delightful or delightfully inane. I’m not sure which.

- Princess Racoon

By Seijo Suzuki, who also did Pistol Opera, this stylised mythic opera with hip hop, blues ‘n’ roots and a fabulous ultra-pop duet is sheer aural and visual over-stimulation. And the golden frog that says “kerop, kerop” like all Japanese frogs do is hilariously weird.

- Men at Work

A Turkish film about four men who go on a drive somewhere (we never do know where), see a big phallic rock and decide it must be toppled. Their heroic attempts come to naught but they recruit passers-by in their obsessive quest, in the meantime revealing much about themselves. Wonderful dialogue.

The sublime films:-

- Into Great Silence

In 1982, the film-maker approached a monastery in Switzerland – Le Grand Chartreuse-, reputed to be the most ascetic in the world, for permission to film on location. The monastery said they were not ready and that they would call. More than a decade later, they do call the film-maker to say: We are ready now. With very little dialogue and intermingled with three repeating quotes, the audience enters the contemplative life. We watch monks pray, chop wood, have lunch and garden. And we watch them play on the side of the mountain. I used to want to become a hermit. This film only flamed that fire.

- The Play

Women in a village in Turkey decide to put on a play about their lives, and in the meantime explore facets of themselves and gain a heart-warming self confidence. Feminist consciousness raising in a very grass-roots fashion indeed.

- Book of the Dead

By a Japanese animator, this film could not be described as coherent, but was certainly beautifully crafted.

- Bashing

This film opened my eyes to a phenomenon I was unaware of: the approbation received by Japanese who had volunteered in Iran, were kidnapped and then released unharmed. Returning home from this ordeal, a young woman finds herself discriminated against: in her work, on the street, at a convenience store. She is spat upon and alternately lectured and ignored. An interesting exploration of ideas about selfishness and patriotism / parochialism.

- Death of Mr Lazarescu

A Croatian film about a man who is dying and trying to seek help. We are privy to the incomprehensible hospital bureaucracy, and its callousness. Being somewhat familiar with hospitals, it is sad to say that there is little difference between a former Communist country and Australia.

The Disappointments:-

- Terry Gilliam’s Tideland (don’t bother): some fabulously fantastic images. Otherwise a story lacking in something – I think it was heart, but it could also have been convincing plot (even within the surreal realm it established) or characters you cared about.

- Mongolian Ping Pong: could have been charming and just wasn’t.Oh, and it took too long.

And the interminable:-

- The Neighbour no. 13: overwrought and meaningless horror, with an attempt to stuff meaning in.

- Longing: A German movie I can’t for the life of me work out why I chose (director perhaps?); my partner insists that it was my choice and, unfortunately, I am honest enough to admit that it probably was. I have this to say in my notes, made during BIFF: Waste of energy. Should have slept.

- Corpse – in which I did fall asleep. You probably won’t get the opportunity to (it is an Australian surreal film, made in the mid-70s), but if you do, avoid.

Paradise Now

I finally watched this film, over the weekend.

The highest praise I can give to a movie is that it is well made. I remember one of the best ever comments on an essay I wrote was: “well written.” That was all, and I was beaming. Since then, whenever I read a book, or see a movie, that I thought was particularly good, I think: “well written / made”. Not really the most useful review, however. (Not that this post is a review, except in so far as it says: It’s good. I reckon you should watch it, if you have not already.)

This film is about two young men, who are given a suicide bombing mission. The mission does not go to plan. As a result, the audience is presented with an insight into why each of the young men (but one in particular) has decided to accept the mission. It is a tense movie, exploring the issue from a number of angles. The film is set within the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; the young men are Palestinian.

I like the myriad ways one can read the title. Paradise Now: could be a statement that where we are at the moment is paradise, or an impatient demand for change, or ironically drawing attention to the poverty and despair of one’s current situation. These meanings come to play in the film; it is what makes the film so very interesting.

The complex reasons for why one of the young men, Said, chooses to partake in the mission are laid out carefully, and subtly. There is talk – Said persuades the mission leader to take him back – but there is also demonstration – Said asks his mother questions about his father. The reasons are so much more than the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. There were some very powerful images: Said, with bomb strapped all around his chest, staring into a bus and deciding whether or not to get on; Said leaning against his mother’s window, watching her prepare food; Said’s friend (I’ve forgotten his name already!) torn between what he believes, and being a good friend.

The film reminded me of the reasons why people choose to do extreme things for a cause, whether removing oppression is possible without violent means, and of my own family’s attitude towards war.

One of the main reasons that Said chooses to participate in the suicide attack is because of his father. Although he has reasons connected with the overarching conflict, his greater concern is his family’s dignity. Said’s friend’s decision is much less complicated, and much more passionately intertwined with the conflict: he is oppressed and he hates his oppressors (that is simplifying it somewhat – after all, there are good reasons for why he hates his oppressors). There is also a young woman – she is the first image of the film that we see – who is the daughter of a martyr and who passionately believes in non-violent means of change. She makes an argument that you may be familiar with: the value of showing to the world the criminality of Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians and the poignancy of being seen as victims, rather than aggressors.

I do not know suficient about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to brave an opinion. But I do understand that there may be reasons worth dying for, even if I do not think I would ever believe in anything enought to die for it.

In university, I demonstrated. When I asked a young woman to join me (in a peaceful Reclaim the Night march), she refused and proffered the following reasons: her parents had emigrated from an Eastern European country to Australia for fear of persecution for their political activity. In Australia, her parents had been persecuted for their past political activity in the Eastern European country. She would not participate in public political demonstrations.

I recall being surprised by this, and (because I am egocentric) relating it to myself: my parents emigrated from Viet Nam because they did not think they could make a life under the incoming communist party. They were not engaged in the political dimensions of the war around them; I always understood their reasons to be very simple. For the entirety of my father’s life in Viet Nam, there was violent conflict – Viet independence from the French, WWII, the American-Viet Nam War, the Viet-Sino War, the Viet-Cambodian War. My father was a nationalist – but he was also very principled and he thought everyone was corrupt. He was quite disengaged from the political aspects of the wars: it did not matter what they were about, they always inhibited his making a life for himself and his family. All my parents wanted was a good and peaceful life in which they and their children could prosper, one they did not think they could have in Viet Nam. It was only when the American-Viet Nam war occurred, and when the Viet Cong won political power that my family felt it was unbearable to continue trying to make a life in Viet Nam.

It is more complicated than I am currently explaining, and probably more complicated than I – or even any of my family members who made the decisions – understand. But the reason my family left Viet Nam was not because they held a political view that communism was wrong.

I believed that my family was pacifist. This was borne out when my maternal grandmother, normally mild-tempered and sweet, threw a riotous tantrum and threatened to cease speaking with her second-youngest son when he indicated that he wanted to join the Australian Defence Forces.

It surprised me then to learn from my father’s reminiscensces that he had wanted to join the South Viet Nam army, before he was married to my mother. Ba told me he thought it was a way to get away from the hard work of farming and fishing. Because Ba is a dutiful son, he asked his mother and father for permission. From what my father has told me about my paternal grandmother (Ah Ma) and from what I know of literary tropes, Ah Ma was a stereotypical dowager empress type: strong-willed and manipulative. Although Ba was not one of Ah Ma’s favourites, she appreciated his hard-work and general aptitude at most of the things he tried his hand at. Ah Ma found a family with a marriageable young woman (my mother!) and married my father off to her. (I will tell that story in better detail another day.) Now, my father could no longer join the army as he had a wife, and would very soon have children, to support.

During the American -Viet Nam war, my father’s primary concern was how to keep his growing family fed. He did what he needed to do: during the day, if he was found, he assisted the South Vietnamese army; at night, the Viet Cong. He tells me of occassions where he would build a bridge during the day, and dismantle the same bridge at night. Mostly he spent his time evading either army and working with whomever would take him on.

I have always known that my family are not strongly politically motivated. The paramount value in my family is the continuation and prosperity of the family. When I watch movies like Paradise Now, I am moved to wonder what would motivate me to take extreme action, or even actions that are politically dangerous in a more oppressive political climate than the one in which I grew up (Australia). I am much more politically and ideological interested than my siblings, but I think I would behave more like my father (preserve at all costs) than like Said in Paradise Now.

I have participated in protests and demonstrations: anti-war ones, feminist ones and a few feminist anti-war ones. I recall one particular march from my early university days, protesting the introduction of voluntary student unionism. I did not know anyone else on the march, and I looked different: I wore all black (I almost always wore black, back then. Not goth black, just kind of boring-please-don’t-look-at-me black). I befriended the people nearby me: a young woman in flowy skirt and wild red hair, and a young man in brightly coloured clothes. The march was mostly peaceful but I somehow found myself in a group that was attempting to storm the administration block. When I realised what was occurring, I tried to leave. As the crowd surged forwards, I was edging out and away. People shouted at me, and I shouted back – such articulate things as: No! Stop! Stop it! Let me go! I’m not part of this! The brightly coloured man called me a coward. This hurt, but I kept trying to leave. I did finally extract myself and I ran away from the demonstration and into the safety of the library where I stayed in a quiet corner with my favourite journals until I felt I could emerge. The students ‘occupied’ the admin block for two days, and I think a lot of them found it very exciting. I wondered then how many actually believed taking the admin block would aid their cause, and how many were there because of the momentum and peer pressure.

I am wiser these days when I choose my demonstrations. If they might turn violent, I do not attend. I believe there are other means for me to effect change, and have my voice heard.

I am not suggesting that participating in demonstrations is akin to being a political martyr or a suicide bomber, but it is doing something which may have a detrimental effect on oneself for an ideological cause. My family would never understand if negative consequences were visited upon my head for a political or ideological reason. When Ba and Um gave up so much to ensure my prosperity, how can I do otherwise but ensure that their sacrifice was not in vain?

Ghosts – A film review

This is an excellently made film, telling a very sad story.

I think the IMDB plot precis is quite amusing: “A young Chinese girl is smuggled into the UK so she can support her son and family in China” and it does not, by any stretch of the imagination, capture what the film is actually about.

The film is a fictionalised drama based on actual events that some of the actors, including the lead “young Chinese girl”, experienced. The official website has a better synopsis, but still calls the lead a “young Chinese girl”. I don’t mean to go off topic, but honestly, the lead – Ai Qin – has a young son – aged about 3/4 years (but maybe older as she takes him to school) when she leaves China at the beginning of the movie – and about 5/6 years at the end of the movie. She can’t be a girl. She just can’t. (here I stamp my feet – that’s how good my argument is)

Ghosts is about Chinese illegal immigrants in the UK, brought sharply and shockingly into the news when 23 Chinese illegal immigrants drowned while cockle picking in Morecambe Bay on 5 February 2004.

The film opens with a van full of Chinese people, driving across a grey beach, they pick cockles and the water swirls around them until all are stranded atop the van, dark waves menancingly rocking the van side to side. A shivering few use a mobile phone to call their family, and the “young Chinese girl” sings a song to her son, which segues us to the beginning of the story. We follow Ai Qin from her negotiation of her fare and passage in China, through her six month smuggled transit to UK and then in her housing and factory and farming jobs with a fake work permit, culminating in her work cockle-picking and its fatal consequences. These Chinese immigrants have indebted themselves to their smugglers, and must work to pay back their debt, send money home and cover the cost – usually exhorbitant – of their accommodation. At the end of the film, we are told that many of the families of the Morecambe Bay victims are still repaying their debts, and there is a fund that one can donate to, to assist the repayment.

There are a lot of illegal immigrants in the UK. At the moment, there seem to be a lot of concern about Polish immigrants. The newspapers reported recently that there were probably twice as many Polish immigrants in the UK than the authorities were aware of.

The use of the term “illegal immigrant” is interesting of itself. The people depicted in Ghosts are not, to my mind, illegal immigrants. They are trafficked persons. They have been misled, misinformed and are treated as no more than commodities; this is neatly symbolised by their passage inside the hull of a shipping container. They are exploited by the persons who have brought them to the UK, and by the persons who ‘look after’ them in the UK. I was very impressed with Nick Bloomfield’s representation of Mr Lin – the head of the Chinese workers that the lead character is placed with. He is exploiter – but he, too, has his own difficulties in the UK. He swaggers when we see him first, but his eyes cloud over and his shoulders droop as he struggles to find work for himself and his fellow immigrants.

The film touches upon a number of issues, which provides a real-ness to the experience of Ai Qin. There is racism, of course, but there are also moments of fun and camaraderie: although I am not so persuaded that a day apple-picking is actually fun. Racism is depicted in many forms: from the mundanity of Ai Qin’s fake work permit bearing the picture of a another Chinese woman, to the neighbours who spit on the ground as the Chinese immigrants walk past, to the group of English cockle-pickers who assault the Chinese immigrants for picking in “their spot”. The film title is also apt – and with myriad interpretations: coould it refer to what the Chinese immigrants themselves call white English people, or does it refer to their unseen status as illegal immigrants?

Underlining Ai Qin’s precarious position is the constant threat / offer of prostitution. There is another woman in the illegal immigrant household: she is Mr Lin’s lover and she does not like manual work. She may also be the lover of the white English landlord, who comes by in a doof-doof car, with swinging gold chains to collect the rent (in cash of course). She giggles and pouts, in a cheong sam, on his lap at a party. You wonder who is exploiting whom in this interchange, and how neither of them will budge any stereotypes about the other.

There is also the very interesting depiction of the inhumanity behind factory processed meat: Ai Qin works in Sainsbury’s packing duck and maybe chicken too. Ai Qin is not involved at the killing stage, but even the treatment of the duck meat is disturbing. It is strange to use the term ‘inhumane’ because the animal is not, obviously, a human and yet it is inhumane treatment. The duck meat is no more than a commodity, and it is mass produced. I am not articulating myself very well here, about this. I have long been concerned about the mass production of meat, the way the end product is so divorced from its living reality. The mass production of food leads to inhumane conditions for the humans involved in the production, and for the animals, too. This is another blog post, however.

Not long after I saw this movie, I read an article in the newspaper about Vietnamese illegal immigrants who worked inside homes owned by Vietnamese gangs looking after crops of cannabis.

Two things leapt out at me when reading this article. The first was the awareness that the poor illegal immigrant (probably trafficked person) left to mind the crop would be the one who took any punishment meted out. The second was this paragraph:

The police have become so concerned about the criminal gang connection that they have warned landlords and letting agencies of the dangers of renting property to apparently innocent Vietnamese people.

In fairness to the article, the following paragraph warns about potential breach of anti-racism laws. But that’s a bit scare-mongering, isn’t it? Yes – there are Viet gangs in London (and probably elsewhere) producing drugs. But you know, some of those apparently innocent Vietnamese people are innocent Vietnamese people. And some of those apparently guilty Vietnamese people, like the people the subject of Ghosts are not as culpable in their own misfortune as they would appear.