Dennis Broe gives his final report and round-up from Cannes.
This is Bro on the World Film Beat “Breaking Glass” in my final report from Cannes 2017............
Cannes Redux: Top Films Outside the Main Competition
My colleagues have gone home long ago, but I’m still wandering the Croissette here at Cannes, selecting the smaller films that over the next year will be released in fits and starts. What follows is a reckoning of what not to miss, what is eminently missable and some oddities and one-shots in films that are then run in Paris after the festival at the Forum des Images, the Reflet Medici and the Cinemateque.
If it appeared that the traditional arthouse and commercial cinema may be under attack through streaming services like Netflix and through television, this was still at Cannes a healthy outpouring of films that combined a social realism heightened by genre cinema influences either by Hollywood directly (the occasionally Tarentino-esque Bulgarian film Directions and the Martin Scorsese executive produced Italian migrant film A Ciambra) or by global cinema genres (the 70’s spaghetti Western look and feel of the Indonesian Marlina the Murderer in Four Acts).
A dominant pattern then for Cannes political cinema, circa 2017, a pattern that despite Netflix and television still has life in it, is a foundation of Belgium filmmakers the Dardenne Brothers (multiply screened and honored at Cannes with such films as Rosetta, The Promise, and Two Days, One Night) up-close following of down-and-out characters, overlaid with crime and mystery genre elements enhancing the mood. Indeed the Dardennes produced one of the most challenging films of the festival in Loveless, a devastating critique of consumer society in Russia.
Best of the Rest:
Posoki is the Bulgarian word for this film about the breakdown of social relations in Sofia, the capital, in the post-Soviet, post-capitalist era. The directions are the traversing of the capital by cab drivers whose series of mostly nocturnal encounters collectively describe a society in turmoil where fellow-feeling has collapsed. The film begins with a besieged driver, who has just lost his business and is indebted to the banks, dropping off his daughter at her high school and picking up another teen who claims to be going to see her grandmother but who is actually a “working girl” at a luxury hotel, where she makes far more than the cabdriver. He shoos the girl out of the cab and then assaults the banker who has just doubled his debt in what is just the opening gambit of a series of humiliating encounters between bedraggled, worldweary but still basically honest drivers and the customers in the classes above who prey on them. A reversal of how the business is usually perceived, more Daniel Blake in the way that the drivers as everymen and women of a society on the brink are exploited than victimizers themselves, as in Taxi Driver.
Pure Hearts or Cuori Puri.
While the headlines in the Italian Cinema are grabbed by fawning and innocuous directors like Paolo Sorrentino (the Academy Award-winning The Great Beauty and HBO’s The Young Pope), there is in the belly of this cinema a more socially conscious movement which knows that in a society with high unemployment and increasing social tensions crime, as John Huston proclaimed, is just “a left-handed form of human endeavor.”
We’ve seen Gomorrah, the film and television series, and last year’s Cannes entry Fiore or Flower, Romeo in Juliet set in a Milanese prison. This year we have the Martin Scorsese exec-produced A Ciambra directed by Jonas Carpignano who was at Cannes two years ago with Mediterranea, an immigrant film focused on the difficult interaction, once arrived, of sub-Saharan Africans with Italian locals.
More in line with last year’s Fiori is Pure Hearts, Cuori Puri, which opens with its male and female youths pursuing each other in what we learn is one of them trying to catch the shoplifting other but which seems to simply be their passion which in the course of the film will triumph over the mixed backgrounds of working class born-again Catholic, underclass petty criminality, and Roma caught between the two. Another Cannes irruption of a movement worth celebrating.
The rape and murder of an 18-year-old girl on a Wyoming Indian Reservation is the occasion for an examination of the inner lives of those caught on the res, and a socially interesting and relevant indictment of contemporary outside forces which perpetuate that historical misery. The trail of the murder lead expert hunter Jeremy Renner and inexperienced but committed FBI agent Elizabeth Olsen (paired previously as Hawkeye and The Scarlet Witch in The Avengers), apropos of the Pine Ridge protests, to an energy company whose shadowy army of mercenaries impose themselves on the natives. First directing effort by Taylor Sheridan who wrote the script for last year’s Cannes entry Hell and High Water, about righteous bank robbers in the impoverished Texas Panhandle. Concluding sequence of Wind River with two Native American fathers, one in warpaint, attempting to assuage their sorrow and guilt proves this to be more than just a capable crime film though it is certainly that in spades.
The best film of the festival was Patti Cake$, a Jersey musical that celebrates both the resilient spirit of rap and the place of music in sustaining working class cultures within the state’s morass of chemical plants that has all but left them for dead. Danielle MacDonald leads a multi-culti gang of misfits that includes her mother and grandmother as her dreams of music industry stardom are first compared to her stark bartending reality and then in a small way materialize. The film is far from naïve about the tensions at play in a white rapper but ultimately settles for a view of the liberatory quality of the music no matter where or by who it is practiced. The film is also with its soundtrack that includes Springsteen, Heart and Rhythm and Blues, a reminder of the epochs of music that have invigorated and sustained all kinds of working class cultures in Jersey through the ages.
A musical of a different color was Bruno Dumont’s Jeanette: The Childhood of Joan of Arc which features the pre-teen Joan moshing to punk rhythms with a duo of nuns in her sheep fields. The film is at first outrageous especially in that it recasts this legend which is the mainstay of a deep-seated French rightwing. However, as is often true with badboy Dumont, what starts out as rebellious, soon turns in its own way respectful so that all the punk moshing in the end simply reinvigorates with its own highly religious overlay, rather than truly rewrites, the legend of the warrior girl.
Less than meets the eye, although its shot setup is actually quite stunning, is another Netflix entry Bushwick, a supposedly Red State/Blue State fable about an attack on the now hipster community of Bushwick, Brooklyn by extreme Republican outside forces. The film purports to be about liberal, multicultural values threatened by the primitive rest of the country, but actually is a vision of paranoia by its blonde heroine that is closer to an accurate portrait of the mentality of the white settler/artist class that is now colonising Bushwick as the shock troops of gentrification. Stunning long takes in the battlefield scenes cannot save the film from its limited lack of perspective.
Worse yet is the Italian film Dopo La Guerra, After The War, about a former radical in the largely unrecounted civil war in Italy in the 1970s, now in the 1980s exiled in France and about to be repatriated to stand trial for his political crimes. The film is told through the perspective of his teenage daughter who tells him at one point to stop talking about politics and concentrate on her needing blue jeans. There is nothing wrong with a teenage coming of age story but here it is used as a battering ram in a very middle class perspective to pulverise the radical inattentive dad. In the consumerist mind of the film, jeans are more important than politics and they take a back seat to principles. Or you might say in a middle class consumerist culture, blue jeans are all that is left of principles.
An oddity of the festival was the Portuguese Fabrica da nada, The Nothing Factory about a group of workers trying to decide whether to make a stand as their factory is about to be closed. The film is dead-on in its trio of suits who explain to the worker’s why they cannot understand the larger dynamics of factories closing, an opinion which is undercut in the worker’s later pointed discussions about the injustices of capitalist globalization from the point of view of those left behind.
Unfortunately, as is often the case with the New Portuguese Cinema, though the subject matter is devoutly to be wished, the slow, grinding presentation and the lack of movement make this not a triumph but a trying engagement with a committed cinema. Here the form, rather than enhancing or expanding, restrains and dilutes the content.
That concludes Cannes 2017. It’s time for me to leave the Croissette and “Shuffle Off to Buffalo” or at least shuttle back to Paris. This is Bro on the World Film Beat signing off.