My Little Sister

My Little Sister starts with two protagonists: Lisa and Sven. They’re twins, and evidently very close. Even when they’re shot apart, as in the opening scene, they’re still connected – it’s a shot of Lisa giving blood followed by a shot of Sven sleeping alone in a sanitized hospital room. She’s giving her blood to help him fight cancer.

Over the first half of the movie, the camera follows Lisa and Sven equally. However, the narrative balance between them becomes more lopsided as the film progresses. Coinciding with Sven’s deteriorating health, Lisa takes up more and more screen time. The movie becomes less about how Sven copes with cancer and more about how Lisa deals with it. Whilst it confirms his physical end, her assumption of the film’s focus also represents her inheriting Sven’s spirit. She takes on Sven’s stage presence (he was known for being a charismatic stage actor) and assumes some of his characteristics. She becomes more independent and creative than she appears at the beginning of the film.

One example of Lisa’s change is in her marital relationship. After she takes Sven abroad to her home in Switzerland, she starts questioning her life with her husband Martin. He’s a symbol of the soft patriarchy that has frozen her in a place she doesn’t want to be. She has compromised her creative career to move to a remote Swiss town for his advancement, but got no support in return. Instead of considering a return to Berlin with Lisa, Martin mansplains that living as a housewife abroad is in Lisa’s best interests. Her role for him is to fulfill his ‘happy family’ image at work functions. Lisa’s revolt against his soft patriarchy is triggered by the arrival of Sven. He’s a reminder of her previous ambitions that have been forgotten in her nuclear family life abroad.

There’s no doubt that My Little Sister is a sad family drama. The only respite seems to come from the classical opera music that replaces diegetic sound in and following the most hopeless scenes. However, looking at it positively, we follow a character that inherits the freedom to become a more independent character. So if you can brave a film featuring an intimate relationship with a relative fighting cancer, you’ll be able to appreciate My Little Sister.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Luxor

Hanna starts Luxor looking like the typical ‘gone abroad to find yourself’ young white adult. She’s dressed in loose clothing, feels an other worldly connection to the foreign place, and sleeps around. However, whilst her character never completely loses this image in the film, our interpretation of her changes.

Instead of opening up, she becomes more closed emotionally as the film progresses. It doesn’t feel like we learn more about her. Scene by scene, her face becomes a canvas of lonely stoicism, even after she meets her former lover, Sultan. The only moment she breaks this facade in the first part of the film is when she automatically switches into ‘work-mode’ to help a tourist that faints. Otherwise she’s made a shell around her personality to defend herself against hardships.

Luxor could have slipped into the trap of exoticizing a foreign location from the perspective of an outsider. Whilst it does turn Ancient Egypt into a place for a white person to contemplate (side note: shout out to the British Museum), it feels self aware of what it’s doing. Hanna finds connections on her own organically, and other connections to the land through the eyes of a local Sultan. It also recognizes that tourists do visit Luxor to exoticize ‘the other’ by representing them in the spiritual group of westerners that followed the Grateful Dead, and the obnoxious American tourist from the opening. Again it just about avoids the trap of falling into the problematic ‘white girl finds herself in exotic location’.

Instead it uses the environment, and Hanna’s connection to it, to evoke nostalgia for Hanna’s past life with Sultan. We learn that this isn’t the first time she’s been to Luxor (having been here with Sultan earlier in life). Now she’s older, she has experienced trauma (that is only hinted at in the film), and her mind is in a different place. She’s seeing the same locations, but in a different light. Everything feels familiar, shown in her confident exploration of the place on her own, but it also feels different, as shown in her inquisitive interaction with the ruins. Her new connection to the place suggests that her return may be fated, and that she may have found her home and future.


Head to our AFI Fest Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2020.

Paris, 13th District

If you’re a secret fan of love triangles but actually an art-house film snob, Paris 13th District is for you. You have your art-house credentials, with Jacques Audiard directing and Celine Sciamma writing, as well as a smooth black and white film. But you also have a light, free-flowing script with lots of sex that doesn’t slow down, making it an easy watch for anyone wanting to tune out.

Paris 13th District isn’t deep. There doesn’t appear to be any hidden subtext to either of the character’s narratives. Some of the scenes even feel a little contrived, particularly the scene in a university lecture hall in which all of the students start watching videos of a chat room girl and making fun of Nora for looking just like her. In an otherwise relatable film of 20-30 somethings, this scene stands out – making you think that the writers might actually be a bit out of touch with the young adult’s reality. But luckily the depth isn’t needed thanks to the lightness of the film. It flows so smoothly that you won’t have time to think about why it was made.

The lightness comes from a range of things. Firstly, there’s the clean simplicity of the black and white film that takes away any noise. This is supported by the simple soundtrack with synth bursts that cleanly separate the breaks between each narrative. Secondly, there’s the free characters. Even though each one has their own problems – Emilie has family drama, Nora is bullied, and Camille has his own grief – they never feel serious. Instead they appear free to do anything they like – each one quickly changes their career as if it were starting a new day. Camillie suddenly becomes a real-estate agent after dropping out of his masters, Nora starts her law degree in her 30’s before dropping out to rejoin a career in sales, and Emilie doesn’t even feel burdened to work. Their free-flowing careers comes across as a bit of a jab at millennials from the older screenwriters of the film. All of them are played as fragile characters that change their mind and lack commitment. However, it does make the film feel lighter – they all live in a city in which their troubles don’t feel that serious and in which they can change their direction in an instant.

So if you’re looking for a light relationship drama with art-house credentials, Paris 13th District is worth a watch. Whilst it’s arguably a bit out of touch, it is an easy watch for anyone looking for a break from the more challenging film festival fare.


Head to our AFI Fest 2021 Hub for more reviews and short films from AFI Fest 2021.

Tug of War

In colonial Zanzibar, a young revolutionary and runaway wife from different parts of the city meet. As their romance grows, so does their revolutionary fervor in this adaptation of Shafi Adam Shafi’s novel.

It’s rare that you see Tanzanian films on the international film festival circuit, especially those that are directed by Tanzanians. The industry in the East African country is dominated by Swahiliwood’s low budget, rapidly made ‘Bongo films,’ which, like the majority of African cinema industries are largely ignored by Western film festivals. So it’s nice to see a Tanzanian representative on the international film festival circuit in Tug of War, even if it isn’t your typical Tanzanian film. Unlike ‘Bongo films,’ Tug of War‘s production quality matches the criteria for Western film festivals, with beautiful cinematography inspired by Wong Kar Wai, good production design, and great acting. It perfectly fits the Western expectations of ‘good’ international cinema.

The warmly patient pace of Tug of War defines the films tone, characters, and relationships. It’s created through the slow motion shots and orange tinted film that the director, Amil Shivji, uses throughout the film, just as Wong Kar Wai did in In the Mood for Love. The slow motion highlights some of the defining moments in the character’s relationships. This is clearest in the shot of Denge and Yasmin’s first glance of each other. Stretching out this fleeting glance captures the longing in that brief look, symbolically starting the embers that starts their romance. These slow motion moments also signify their enlightenment. One shot shows Yasmin pushing against the flow of a moving crowd. At regular speed, the shot might be forgettable, but in slow motion it becomes symbolic of her going against the grain of her family’s expectations and grabbing her own independence. Lastly the slow motion also emphasizes the link between their budding romance and new-found independence with the anti-colonial revolution that stands against both. This is captured in the slow motion scene of red pamphlets falling between them like wedding confetti (as in the image above).

For a beautifully shot, anti-colonial Tanzanian film inspired by Wong Kar Wai’s In the Mood for Love, watch Tug of War. It features sumptuously warm cinematography, a slow burning romance, and a fight for independence. This interracial, extra-marital love is anti-colonial. Viva la revolución.


Check back to our Pan African Film Festival 2022 page for more reviews coming out of the 30th edition of the festival.