From: Angola, Africa Watch: Trailer, IMDb Next: The Magic Gloves, The River, The Burial of KojoContinue reading “Air Conditioner – A Laid Back Mystery Tour of Luanda”
From: Montenegro, Europe Watch: Trailer, IMDb Next: Underground, The Flying Circus, Cosy DensContinue reading “The Black Pin – Gentrification in a Small Montenegrin Village”
From: Papua New Guinea, Australasia Watch: Watch on YouTube, IMDb Next: Cuestion de Fe, Akasha, Tanna
In the opening of Tinpis Run, Papa meets Naaki. Papa is driving one of his regular taxi routes across the highlands when he almost falls asleep at the wheel and crashes his car. Naaki pulls him out of the car and rushes him to hospital, saving him from certain death. In thanks, Papa promises Naaki his daughter’s hand in marriage (she refuses). However, despite his daughter’s refusal, Naaki convinces Papa to buy a new vehicle and get back in the taxi business to cement their new bond of friendship. Together, they drive around the country going along with whatever life throws at them, whether that’s gambling losses that force them to bond with local politician/criminals, highway robberies, and tribal warfare. Whatever misfortunes hit them, they’re treated with deadpan comedy instead of concern, much like the slapstick adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.
Papa and Naaki’s unlikely friendship was the first thing that reminded me of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Papa is an old highland chief making a living through his taxi business whilst Naaki is a regular guy from the city. Whilst Papa still identifies with traditional PNG life, such as tribal rivalries and giving away his daughter’s hand in marriage, Naaki rejects them. He prefers the simple manly pleasures of life such as womanizing and life by the beach. Papa’s fervor for traditionalism matches Don Quixote’s dreams of being a chivalrous knight. Naaki, like Sancho Panza, is happy to go along with Papa just to get closer to his daughter and to make a living.
Under the comedy, there’s a critique of the lasting effects of colonialism. In the early scenes of the movie, when Papa is looking for a new truck to restart his taxi business with Naaki, he finds a beat-up truck being sold by a white man. Papa, old enough to remember the neocolonialist rule of the country under Australia, calls the white man ‘master’ and doesn’t question his extortionate price. His unquestioned trust of the white man shows the lasting effect of colonialism’s promotion of white superiority.
But it’s not just the white man that tries to exploit the indigenous PNG citizens. We see a PNG citizen from the mainland trying to exploit PNG citizens on the islands (as well as Papa and Naaki). He tricks Papa and Naaki into taking their car on one of his boats to a nearby island to promote his campaign in the local elections. He uses their car as a symbol of the ‘civilization’ and technology he will bring to the island if the islanders vote for him. Just as the white man used his white status to rip off Papa, this PNG citizen uses his status as a city dweller to trick the islanders. It marks that the cycles of exploitation founded in colonialism didn’t end with independence.
If you’d like to watch another light road trip adventure, head to Bolivia to watch Cuestion de Fe. There’s also Ghana’s Bigman Wahala if you want a big more laugh out loud humor.
Or if you’re looking for another film featuring characters letting life lead them where it wills, check out Sudanese film aKasha or Portugal/Cape Verde’s Djon Africa.
Lastly, for more films featuring tropical island life, go watch Jamaica’s Outdeh, and Hawaii’s August at Akiko’s. Whilst it’s not an island, Suriname’s Wan Pipel also has that same laid back tropical island feel too, and is a great film from a country without much of a film industry.
Dogs are everywhere. Before the pandemic, ownership seemed to be rising. Everyone either had a dog or knew someone who did, whether it was a neighbor or a colleague who brought their dog into work. Now, with everyone stuck at home, they’ve become even more popular as companions for those living alone and friends for kids. They’re also still the small talk champions (perhaps even more so than babies). Nothing else can get a stranger talking to you better. It’s within this context that The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be Quiet kicks off.
Sebastian’s troubles start when he bumps into a neighbor in the courtyard outside his house, who starts complaining about the noises his dog makes. In what’s quite a funny scene, in an awkward way, Sebastian stands there, under his umbrella in the rain, nodding along to his neighbors monologue. Other neighbors turn up and add to his neighbors complaints and crowding the small courtyard. Right after that scene, Sebastian has a similarly awkward chat with his boss at work. They also don’t want his dog around, and like his neighbors, awkwardly avoid telling him directly.
Solving his troubles at home and work in one, Sebastian moves to the country for a happy life with his dog. But, things don’t end there, as the chain of events started by his less than silent dog keeps progressing. Amongst other things, we’re taken through Sebastian’s different jobs, a clandestine cooperative, and a sudden pandemic. It’s an oddball journey. However, despite how strange the events are to us, Sebastian goes along with them as if they’re completely normal. It’s like he’s resigned himself to the path his dog has placed him on.
His stoic face throughout all these surprises is what makes this film so quietly funny. In a way his role isn’t too dissimilar from the great silent movie comics like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. Whilst he doesn’t perform any stunts like them, the comedy of the film is created around his non-reaction to the things happening around him. Like Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, Sebastian is the comedic fall guy for the movie. His misfortune and his acceptance of it exists for everyone to laugh at.
So, if you’re looking for another quietly funny Argentinian satire along the lines of Martin Rejtman (see The Magic Gloves) check out The Day the Dog Wouldn’t be Quiet.
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