Film Festival Coverage Hub - Reviews & Recaps

The Flying Circus – International Competition – SBIFF

In The Flying Circus, four lads from Kosovo receive an invitation from the Albanian National Theatre to put on their latest play for their festival. Problem is, to get there, they need to cross two borders illegally. They have to escape Serbian occupied Kosovo, sneak through Monetenegro, before crossing illegally into Albania.

It’s a funny ‘based on a true story’ escape/road trip film set in a divided Balkans. It manages to convey the seriousness of their journey, but lightened with humour. The only unnecessary addition to the film is the cliched holiday relationship between one of the actors and a woman from Tirana. It just feels too quick, underdeveloped, and unnecessary.

The humour comes from the strange situations and people the four actors stumble into and how they deal with them. For example, there’s the threatening episode when the Kosovars traveling from Kosovo are all threatened by a trio of skinheads in a restaurant. One of the skinheads brings out a gun to which one of the four actors smashes his hands on two glasses (as he saw in a movie earlier). It turns a threatening situation into something absurd to laugh at. In these comedic moments you almost forget that they’re on the run and their lives are under threat.

The Flying Circus also offers a glimpse of life as a Kosovar in the Balkans. At home there are routine ID checks of ethnic Albanians and officials speaking Serbian instead of the local Albanian. This sets up what they’re due to face later on. On the road, they face further checks – made by grumpy officials speaking Serbian, and they’re threatened by a local in Montenegro. All the signs show that the Kosovars are looked down upon both at home and abroad. This doesn’t change when they make it to Albania either, where the officials are corrupt and inept.

Overall, The Flying Journey is a fun journey, on a similar level to Taika Waititi’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople. It’s got funny characters, humor in unlikely situations, and a happy-ish ending.

The Clash – Spain/Latin American Competition – SBIFF

Roberto, an 18 year old boy, joins his father in Montreal to escape the violence in Peru. His father, now Bob Montoya, fled Peru a few years earlier and now lives with his Canadian wife and daughter. The Clash shows both the culture clash for Roberto and the macho clash with his now Canadian father. It plays out a bit like a Martin Rejtman film in which the oddball humour has been switched out for a tense underlying machismo.

The arrival of Roberto is a challenge to Bob’s male pride. We don’t know how much of a success Bob was in Peru, but he’s desperate to present himself as a success story in Canada. Roberto obviously knows where he came from in Peru so Bob wants to show him how far he’s come. Roberto is the medium for Bob to prove himself to people back in Peru.

In order to maintain his image, he tries to sell how great Canada is to his son. He keeps telling him it’s a place where you can be anything, a place where you can make lots of money. He portrays himself as a businessman that is one step away from the next big deal with a nice house and a nice car. However, the house, the car, and his suit are all for show. The nice house and car that he ‘owns’ are really his wife’s and his suit is just a image that covers up the debts he’s incurring.

Like Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite, Bob Montoya resorts to machismo to present himself as a big man. Whilst he’s grateful to have his son with him – as it’s a chance to prove to someone he’s achieved the American dream – he also sees him as a challenge to his masculinity. He’s a new male figure in the house that takes some of his wife’s and mistress’ attention away from him.

Their relationship fits Freud’s Oedipus complex theory. Bob is the father figure that dominates the household. Roberto is the son that reluctantly lives within the rules his father sets. They rarely talk beyond a few awkward words as Roberto lives in silence. Bob asserts his male dominance over Roberto by kissing his wife and his mistress in front of his son. In contrast, Roberto has fantasies of hooking up with his father’s mistress. In a final awkward party, Roberto battles his father for a dance with his mistress. It’s only in the club when he’s drunk that he can overcome his ‘castration anxiety‘. However, his father never allows her to dance with him in order to preserve his position as the alpha male.

The Clash is a brilliantly awkward film about a father and his son battling to prove their masculinity in a place foreign to the both of them.

Outdeh – The Youth of Jamaica (SBIFF)

A lot of places in the world you can’t just do what you want to do. In Jamaica it’s a lot like that. And I use that as a positive motivation to get me to pursue it and achieve it.
Shama

Outdeh follows three young men (Shama, Bakersteez, and Romar) in their quest to try and make something of their lives. They all want to do something new to build a platform for the next generation. Shama is the first professional surfer from the island, Bakersteez is trying to forge a career as a rapper from a country dominated by dancehall stars such as Popcaan, whilst Romar is trying to make it out of one of the islands most notorious ghettoes by playing football. They’re all going for their dreams because no other path has been cleared for them. And they all want to prove that their dreams are achievable.

The first thing that draws you into Outdeh is the idyllic slow motion shots of the island backed by the Jamaican soundtrack. It captures a musical-esque utopia that we are happy to be immersed in. There’s the ocean waves which Shama effortlessly glides through in front of empty Sandy beaches. There’s also shots of Shama carelessly skateboarding through city streets, dancing in front of cars as if he’s invincible. Then there’s shots of Romar playing football with a large group of guys from the neighbourhood. It doesn’t look like he has any worries even though we hear that he has to beg for money to eat from the neighbourhood boss. The evidence of an unhappy life is only spoken about, leaving the slow motion shots to show the utopian side of the idyllic island they live on. It’s a sign of a hopeful, positive future.

You’ll also be drawn in by the laid back characters of Bakersteez and Shama which hide a restless energy. Despite saying he gets nervous before his gigs, Bakersteez always appears completely confident and in control of his life’s direction. Shama is no different. Even though he’s the first professional surfer from Jamaica, he doesn’t even act like it’s a big thing, it’s just something he’s picked up for followed what he loves to do. Like Bakersteez, even though they’re forging new paths for a new generation, he never appears flustered or out of place.

The future looks bright for these three in Outdeh and the youth of Jamaica.

Head to our Santa Barbara International Film Festival Hub for more reviews from the Santa Barbara International Film Festival 2020.

Saudi Runaway – Sundance Film Festival 2020

Despite reforms from MBS, the current ruler of Saudi Arabia, 1,000 women escape Saudi Arabia each year. Saudi Runaway follows Muna, a typical Saudi Arabian woman trying to make herself one of the 1,000 to escape the oppressive patriarchy. All the footage is shot on her phone camera, often in secret from under her hijab, to document a snippet of her life.

Muna gains our trust right from the start by showing us things we shouldn’t see. She takes us into the crowds of the Hajj pilgrimage circling the Kaaba by capturing the crowds from a phone camera hidden under her veil. She also documents her family secretly in prayer and the patriarchal words her family and fiance say without realizing they’re being filmed. From these secretive observational moments we can start to build a picture of the society and family she lives in and its restrictiveness. We can also feel the risk she’s taking in secretively filming her family. She obviously hasn’t told them about the film as all they’re faces are blurred. Because of the risks she takes and secretive shots she has shared with us, she immediately gains out trust and empathy.

The film strengthens our connection with Muna through a series of video diary entries in which she shares experiences from her life and plans her escape. We hear about the patriarchal oppression she faces: how her husband won’t let her drive and how she can’t go to the supermarket or leave the house without a man. We also hear about her slim chance for escape: she cannot leave the country without a man’s permission in Saudi Arabia, so she has to get married before attempting an escape in the UAE whilst she’s on her honeymoon. Amazingly, she captures all of the tension of her ordeal, even taking a minute to document her final thoughts before she attempts her escape.

The only fault I could give this exciting documentary is the touch of melodrama the European director adds to the raw footage from Muna. In some of the tense moments, the soundtrack feels like it’s emphasizing the emotions more than it needs to. It makes the film feel ‘more produced’ and therefore less intimate and trustworthy by taking away from the realness of the first hand footage shot by Muna. The ‘dear Sue’ addresses in Muna’s video diary also make the film feel more like an act, by recognizing the foreign hand in its creation.

Overall, Saudi Runaway is a documentary that any fans of escape documentaries (see Midnight Traveller) or viewers interested at an inside look of Saudi Arabia should watch.

Head to our Sundance Film Festival Hub for more reviews from the Sundance Film Festival 2020.

A Storm Was Coming (Anunciaron Tormenta) – Berlinale 2020

A Storm Was Coming starts with a still shot of the landscape of Equatorial Guinea. Slowly, the landscape becomes more and more overexposed until the shot is completely whitewashed and the landscape has disappeared. This visual example of whitewashing to start A Storm Was Coming is a style that director Jose Fernandez Vasquez uses throughout the film to represent the Spanish Empire’s eradication of the culture of Equatorial Guinea.

The Spanish Empire controlled Equatorial Guinea until 1968. As presented by the Spanish texts from the Francoist era which are read in the film, their rule was benevolent. Colonialism and the power structures it left ensured that an indigenous voice didn’t arise to challenge the Spanish hegemony. This one sided history is represented throughout the film through the scenes of a white man recording Spanish history and the lack of indigenous representation.

Scenes of a white Spanish man in a recording studio reading passages from bibliographies of Spanish colonists make up the bulk of A Storm Was Coming. The passages, which are being recorded in a studio in Madrid, present a one sided view of the history of Equatorial Guinea from the capital of the colonizers. These scenes are visually supported by images of different Spanish missions in Equatorial Guinea appearing out of a blank screen, as if they’re appearing on white photographic paper processed in the photographic darkroom. Their appearance from nothing, perpetuates the controversial colonial viewpoint that colonialism ‘civilized’ their colonies, providing infrastructure, culture, and history. It’s a viewpoint that erases all pre-colonial history, as if nothing of significance existed before the colonists’ arrival. The director combines images of Spanish missions appearing from ‘nothing’ with the reading of Spanish colonial texts to demonstrate the Spanish hegemony of written, aural, and visual Equatoguinean history.

Whilst the voices of Spanish colonists are being preserved, the voices of the colonized have been lost. We hear from a few Bubi people (one of the indigenous groups in Equatorial Guinea), but we never see them on screen. They tell us about Esaasi Eweera, a Bubi leader who tried to resist the Spanish Empire. He’s a heroic leader in their eyes, but his resistance is diminished in Spanish texts. As a result, he has almost disappeared from history, just as the place of his birth has disappeared under overgrown bush. Furthermore, whilst the film spends a lot of time documenting the Spanish voices in Madrid and showing images of Spanish missions, the only pictures of native Equatoguinean people are flashed onto the screen for less than half of a second. Their lack of representation emphasizes how the Spanish rule has lasted visually and aurally, seared onto the minds of the native and Spanish people. In contrast, the Bubi have disappeared from the past and present; they don’t even appear in the film.

Well, at least until the very last scene. To prevent enforcing the Spanish narrative the film reveals, the director, a Spanish filmmaker himself, ends A Storm Was Coming with a face on interview with Bubi scholar Justo Bolekia Boleká. It’s the first time the director shows a native Equatoguinean on screen, giving him more respect than the other characters with a face to face interview. It’s also the first time we hear the Bube language. Ending with Justo Bolekia Boleká and his daughter reciting a Bubi poem in Bube, reveals one thing the Spanish couldn’t eradicate: memory. It’s an ending statement that shows that Bubi culture still survives, despite the Spanish cultural and historical hegemony which still holds power today.

Watched on Festival Scope Pro. This film screened at the Berlinale Forum 2020.