Immerse yourself in the patriarchy embedded in a traditional family in Lahore, Pakistan with Joyland. Don’t let the upbeat title mislead you. Whilst there are some warm moments in Haider’s queer coming of age story, his awakening is framed as a privilege of his gender. The women are all victims of the patriarchy whether they’re within the family house or outside it.
Despite being confined to a wheelchair, the grandfather is still the head of the household consisting of his two sons and their wives, as well as his eldest son’s many children. Haider, the youngest son, holds the focus of the first half of the film as he transitions from a house husband supporting his wife, to a husband seeing other women and turning his wife into a house-wife. The focus on Haider is representative of the patriarchal society he exists within. The audience initially sympathizes with him because he’s looked down on by the men of his family for his assumption of traditionally female role. Because of this set up, his queer coming of age is celebrated as it feels like he’s finally able to come out of his shell. The focus on his budding romance with his boss are some of the happiest moments of the film. However, in the second half of the film, his queer coming of age is framed as his male privilege.
Whilst Haider is out finding himself, his wife, Mumtaz, has been forced by Haider’s family to resign from her dream job and assume the domestic responsibilities expected of a wife. Simultaneously her narrative is overshadowed by Haider’s. Her screen time slowly diminishes as Haider’s grows. Even her star entrepreneurial scene from the start of the movie – in which she uses phone flash-lights to complete her job during a blackout – is hijacked by her husband when he pulls the same trick for his crush later in the film. Mumtaz’s repression by the patriarchy is represented in the empathy and upbeat scenes that are given to her husband, at the expense of hers.
Joyland is a technically faultless film – something you’d expect from a Cannes winner – and captures the dynamics of the patriarchy in Pakistan perfectly. However, whilst its Queer Palm win promises a progressive or unique portrayal of Queerness, Joyland doesn’t really stretch any boundaries here. Haider’s relationship with Biba, the only queer relationship in the film, is sacrificed for a melodramatic finale. Her role, whilst played brilliantly, mostly exists to be the exotic temptress for Haider’s macho-turn.
Geographies of Solitude has many impressive shots of Nova Scotia’s Sable Island, a remote island almost 200 miles off the Canadian coast in the Atlantic Ocean. It starts with one of the most memorable shots, a night sky with more stars than you’ve likely ever seen in the sky before. The sheer number of stars makes the shot appear like an impressionistic painting, and the light is so bright, you even get to see a very clear silhouette of a person walking across the horizon. It’s an almost ASMR-type experience watching the opening with its complimentary ambient soundscape. It feels like you could watch the whole film without dialogue as the images and sound lull you into a trance, that it’s a surprise when there’s speech and we’re introduced to Zoe.
Zoe has been living on the island for over 40 years, mostly alone. We follow her as she explores the 12 square mile island every day to log any changes in the environment. She carries a kit with sampling pots and a notepad to capture anything new and log anything different she might see. Some days she might find a dead bird and on others she might encounter a new insect she hasn’t seen before, however, most days are repetitive logging exercises that track very small changes on the island. Despite the beautiful remote location, Zoe’s existence feels very monotonous and lonely.
The filmmaker, Jacquelyn Mills, takes the filmmaking to similarly exhaustive levels. Almost everything is shot using 16mm film, some of which is processed with a variety of experimental methods such as with peat, yarrow, and seaweed. Mills also pushes the soundtrack to the extreme with insect inspired melodies – literally music created to the steps of the local bugs. Both fit the subject of the documentary, as the experimental filmmaking matches Zoe’s own scientific experiments. However, the experimenting feels too exhaustive. There’s so much experimenting, it feels like the point of the experiments in the first place has been forgotten.
There’s a moment near the end of Geographies of Solitude in which Zoe questions the meaning of her own life. Her answer is a little melancholic as she seems to express doubt about her choice to live on the island for 40 years. She wonders if she’s stretched her life too long on the island and spent too much time away from everything else. The film feels a bit similar. The filmmakers have gone to extraordinary levels to make something unique – soaking film in peat and making music from bugs, but like Zoe’s endless logging, what is the point. Despite the beautiful location and beautiful shots, Geographies of Solitude is imbued with a melancholy for the futility of it all.
In Before, Now & Then, Nana finds security in a second marriage to a wealthy old man, having lost her family to the war in West Java. However, she cannot escape the dreams and trauma of her past, or the expectations of her new family and becomes a ghostly figure until she meets one of her husband’s mistresses. Together they can escape and find their own freedom.
Stylistically, Before, Now & Then feels heavily influenced by Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love. Whilst the colors are more muted, the dreamy pacing and slowed down scenes between Nana and her second husband feel just like the slow romantic scenes between the two protagonists in In the Mood for Love. These scenes in both films are designed to convey uncertainty. In In the Mood for Love the uncertainty is romantic – we don’t know if the two characters will keep seeing each other. In Before, Now & Then, the uncertainty is melancholic. Similarly, we don’t know if the two characters will be together for much longer, however given that the two characters have been together for a while, it feels as if their relationship is dying instead of burning brightly.
The uncertainty of Nana’s relationship is symbolic of the state of the country. Just like the current Indonesian regime, she knows what she’s getting from her stable marriage to an older husband. Whilst it has confined her mostly to the house – and the back of the house at that, as she rarely shows her face publicly – she knows that she will be taken care of. However, there is no love in their relationship. The new freedom she gains with her husband’s mistress, in contrast, is exciting. It fills her with hope that things could be different and more free.
Whilst we have the hindsight to know that the political change happening in the background of Before, Now & Then wasn’t a positive one, the film captures the uncertainty of the times well with it’s dreaminess.
Los Angeles has a lot of film festivals. Most have a focus: PAFF focuses on Pan African films, Outfest focuses on LGBTQ+ films, and LA Shorts Fest focuses on short films. AFI Fest stands out as the city’s biggest general film festival. Like a TIFF, Berlinale, or London Film Festival, AFI Fest screens exemplary movies from around the world in addition to showcase galas and premieres. AFI Fest 2020 was no exception.
However, 2020 has not been a normal year and because of it, AFI Fest’s 2020 edition was not a normal festival. Instead of taking place in Hollywood, AFI Fest 2020, like many other 2020 film festivals, took place virtually online with the TV and computer screens replacing the big screen. So whilst we can’t give you an overview of the audiences and location like we’ve previously done for the Santa Barbara International Film Festival and Pan African Film Festival, we can give you an overview of the experience and the films from AFI Fest 2020.
The Experience
One immediate plus of the virtual film festival format was that there was no waiting. Instead of queuing up before each screening and running between theaters to cram in as much as possible, all you had to do was click a few buttons from your couch. You could have watched 5 films a day and still have had enough time to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, before an early night. The only gripe I had was that the staggered release of the movies over the course of the festival, which meant you still had to create a film schedule to make sure you didn’t miss anything. AFI Fest 2020 could have fully embraced the virtual format by making everything available throughout the festival to fully cater to the audience. That being said, although it was shame these films couldn’t be seen on the big screen, the overall transition to virtual worked perfectly.
The Films
AFI Fest 2020 championed its diversity from the first press release. Of the 124 films included in the festval, 53% were directed by women, 39% by BIPOC, and 17% by LGBTQ+. There was a decent representation of most of the world too. The Americas and Europe were strongly represented, and there was also a good representation from Asia. However, like SBIFF 2020, AFI Fest 2020 contained little from Africa and Australasia, with just 2 feature films and 1 short from Sub-Saharan Africa, and none from Australasia outside of Australia and New Zealand. It’s not that these parts of the world aren’t making films, as the Pan African Film Festival demonstrated. It’s that they’re often overlooked.
The quality of the films at AFI Fest 2020 was high. There weren’t too many premieres, but there were a lot of great films picked from the year’s biggest festivals. I can happily say that all of the 17 films I saw were worth a watch. Here’s how they stacked up.
After seeing Mohammad Rasoulof’s A Man of Integrityfor the first time earlier this year and seeing him win the Golden Bear, I had high expectations for There is No Evil. Safe to say my expectations weren’t disappointed.
The Runner Up: 2
In a very close second is the immaculate Nasir. It’s a humble day in the life story that is beautifully written, shot, and acted.
The Multiple Perspectives: 3-8
All of these films are very good. 5 out of the 6 follow multiple protagonists to give the movies a more rounded perspective. The only one that doesn’t is The Intruder and it’s much more intriguing and uncertain as a result. I Carry You With Me, Farewell Amor, and Eyimofe are all relationship dramas that center on visa and immigration issues. My Little Sister and Downstream to Kinshasa both focus on grief and trauma – the former a family drama, the latter a protest documentary.
The Originals: 9-10
Both these films are framed around unique concepts which provide a lot of room for analysis. Tragic Jungle uses a Mayan myth whilst Apples uses an epidemic of memory loss.
The Foreigner’s Transformation: 11-12
Should the Wind Dropand Luxor are two warm films that I really liked. Whilst the foreigner’s transformation isn’t my favorite topic, they both worked very well. They both create location well too with one representing Nagorno-Karabakh and the other the ancient Egyptian city of Luxor.
The Artistic: 13-14
Notturno and Piedra Sola are amazingly shot. Between them they probably contain the best images of all the films I saw. The only problem was that these incredible images didn’t necessarily translate into a complete story.
The Rest: 15-17
Rival and She Paradise were both good movies. Rival was just a bit too bleak for me, and She Paradise didn’t hit the expectations I had from the short. New Order also opened well before descending into nihilistic chaos. I’m sure it will have it’s fans just like Todd Phillip’s Joker.
Conclusion
As Los Angeles’ premiere film festival, AFI Fest is unmissable if you’re a film fan living in the city. Whilst other festivals in the city choose a focus, AFI fest screens everything. This means you’ll get to see the best films from around the world, hand selected from the festival circuit. Every film offers something that makes it worth taking the time to watch.
The Sole family have farmed fields in the small municipality of Alcarras in Catalonia for generations. However, the wealthy landowner that owns the property has found more profitable ways to use his land, which doesn’t involve farming or what the Sole family wants. He’s looking to destroy the orchards that provide the Sole family’s livelihood to install more profitable solar panels.
What Alcarras does brilliantly is tell a very specific local story in order to highlight how capitalism is affecting not just the Sole family, but the local community and many other people around the globe. It’s set completely in one small municipality in Spain centered one family, all played by non-actors from similar backgrounds to the family on screen, living on one farm. Through the film’s run-time, we get to intimately know each member of the Sole family to understand their life on the farm as well as how they are each affected by the threatening eviction. We see why they love the freedom and independence of farming their own land as well as how they’re pulled apart by an uncertain future. Whilst a multi-family or multi-country film might fail to generate sympathy for it’s characters because of it’s broad scope, Alcarras, in spending time with one family in one region, gives the audience more time and closeness to sympathize with not just them, but everyone affected by capitalism around the world.
The hidden message in Alcarras is that the Sole family’s experience is not isolated to Alcarras, nor Spain. The few short scenes showing the community’s labor strikes, which Quimet and his son join, show that the Sole family’s experiences are not isolated. The priority of progress and profit over personal and community happiness is destroying families across the world.
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