afi fest 2022 - FilmRoot

Le Pupille – AFI Fest 2022

Le Pupille brings you into a Catholic Orphanage during Christmas in the height of the Second World War. Despite the frugal times and strict Mother Superior, the girls find joy in a few magical scenes reminiscent of the wonder of early cinema.

In the Catholic Orphanage, objects are a scarcity. Unlike the often stuffy materialism of today’s modern world, the girls in Le Pupille live in large rooms with very few things around them. This partly emphasizes the frugality of the war period, and in turn, distinguishing any warm nostalgia for Italian fascism, but it also sets a blank slate for the rare objects included in the movie to star. The radio and the giant red cake are enhanced by the absence around them, making them seem much more luxurious than they should be.

The frugality in front of the camera is also seen in the film’s production. The director, Alice Rohrwacher, shot Le Pupille completely on film, and therefore all of the special effects are completely VFX free. This gives the film a playful magic that feels like the wonder of the Melies’ silent films. In one scene a baby appears out of thin air (from one shot to the next), whilst a freeze-framed shouting Mother Superior conveys shock from what feels like the kids perspective in another. Unlike the seriousness of modern VFX, that often strives for digital realism, the old school special effects used here add wonder and magic to film. It encourages wonder rather than inhibiting it.

It’s this simplicity both in front of the camera (with the limited objects and distractions) and behind the camera (in the production process) that makes this short Christmas film feel so playful and joyful.

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Joyland – AFI Fest 2022

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.

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Rewind and Play – AFI Fest 2022

Rewind and Play is an incredibly uncomfortable example of how the Black experience has been written out of history. Alain Gomis digs up the outtakes from an interview Thelonious Monk did with French state television in 1969. It reveals that behind what perhaps appeared to be a simple profile of a Jazz musician, is a heavily edited, whitewashed version of one of the genres largest names. His talent and experience is deliberately reduced to a few stereotypical nuggets to fit a white European audience.

Initially, you might think that Thelonious Monk is just shy, from the short answers he gives to the interviewers questions. For example, he barely responds to the interviewer when asked about his first experience in Paris. However, as the film progresses, it becomes clear why Monk isn’t responding. He’s actually already answered the question multiple times – telling the interviewer that he faced discrimination despite being the top billing at the Paris Jazz Festival in 1954, but the French interviewer doesn’t want to hear it. He dismisses his experience of racism as ‘not nice,’ ‘derogatory’ words and keeps asking the same question to get Monk to lie.

He gives short answers as he’s not allowed to say anything else. His life and music are defined by his race, but he’s prohibited from mentioning it. In order to enforce the ‘color-blindness’ of France, the interviewer and state TV have written Monk’s life instead of allowing him to tell it. As they edit out everything he says, the interviewer ends up telling the French TV audience Monk’s life instead. Monk’s experiences have been turned into cookie cutter pieces of his life to be digested by a middle-class white audience.

The short answers, just like the shots of Monk leaving the stage after his piano pieces, also convey his justified frustration. Unfittingly for the celebrity he is, Monk is captured like an animal at the zoo, turning him into a token of fluke Black genius rather than celebrating his genius completely. He’s lit up with a ton of lights, causing him to sweat profusely, and then the camera zooms in for extreme close ups as if analyzing his anatomy to try and find something to prove his inferiority. He’s the celebrity, but he’s never offered a drink or anything to make him more comfortable. Instead, it’s the white interviewer in the position of power, leering at him whilst leaning over the piano and mandating how to respond to his questions and what to play. French TV want to take his music and separate it from his life. There’s no respect for him as a person.

Alain Gomis manages to brilliantly bring out the awful experience Monk faced in Europe through the outtakes of this French interview. He reveals that there is often much more value in the outtakes than the actual chosen footage. By highlighting this injustice, Gomis forces viewers to question all portrayals of Black celebrities and experiences by the media.

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No Bears – AFI Fest 2022

Despite a 20 year ban on making or directing movies imposed on him in 2010, Jafar Panahi continues to make films. No Bears is the fifth feature film Panahi has made since the ban, and is probably his most political. The not one, but two films in No Bears are an attack on the hypocrisies of censorship and freedom of movement.

Now that Panahi has proved the house arrest and ban on film-making cannot stop him from making films, he’s been encouraged to make something even more inflammatory – an almost direct critique of the government and of laws against the freedom of movement. In No Bears, Panahi deliberately flaunts all of the rules that have been imposed on him. Firstly, he’s directing one film, and starring in another, breaking his filmmaking ban once again. Secondly, he shows he can make films from wherever he wants – he’s relaxing in a rural village near the border and directing his film crew in another country, as well as making a film in the village where he is staying. Thirdly, he’s creating new filmmakers – both in his cameraman shooting his film in Turkey and in the people he hands off his camera to in the village. Lastly, he also shows he can go wherever he wants. He goes right up to the Turkish border as if it’s nothing. All of these things deliberately flaunt his power in spite of the government’s restrictions on him. He proves that they’ll never silence him from making films, whether that’s in Iran or outside it, with him behind the camera or having inspired someone else.

On top of this, Panahi also sets up two films within No Bears to criticize the government and the culture is has fostered. One is a film within a film, following the story of a couple in Turkey that have finally found fake passports on the black market to leave the country. This narrative highlights the discrimination in freedom of movement – granted to certain people because of birth lottery, and hidden from others. The other follows Panahi himself, as he works on this film from a rural Iranian village along the Turkish border. The longer he stays, the more entangled he becomes in the backward customs of the town. This narrative serves as an analogy for the hypocrisies of the Iranian government and censorship committees. Just as they imposed filmmaking bans on him instead of looking to solve the problems he highlights in his films, the villagers choose to make him a scapegoat for their own feuds.

For a film that holds no punches in attacking censorship and freedom of movement, Panahi’s latest is a joy to watch. It’s filled with a dry humor that pokes fun of the establishment whilst retaining a serious message. Just as much as this, No Bears is also a testament to the filmmaking drive of Jafar Panahi. No matter how many restrictions are imposed against him, he’s continued to make films and inspire others. We hope he, and the Iranian filmmakers imprisoned with him earlier this year will be released and the filmmaking bans rescinded.

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Geographies of Solitude – AFI Fest 2022

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.

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