TIFF - Cave of Forgotten Dreams

Rating: *****

Werner Herzog’s Cave of Forgotten Dreams marks the first time, at least in my mind, that the new 3-D format has made the leap to documentary outside an IMAX screen. I’m not sure if Herzog has grander ambitions with 3-D documentary, but if this is his one, then he couldn’t have chosen a better subject.

The Cave in question is the Chauvet Cave in southern France, home to the oldest collection of prehistoric cave paintings ever discovered. They’re perfectly preserved because the cliff face entrance to the cave collapsed thousands of years ago, creating near perfect hermetic conditions for the paintings to survive. Access is restricted to researchers and scientists, and even they’re only allowed in for a couple of hours a day, a couple of weeks per year. Never one to back away from a challenge, Herzog sought and received special permission from France’s Minister of Culture to film there.

It’s getting so a year can’t go by at the Toronto International Film Festival without there being a Herzog film, not that anyone’s complaining of course. After two dramatic features last year, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans and My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?, Cave of Forgotten Dreams was doubly a treat. Triply if you’re a fan of 3-D. Still I think the film would have been compelling just the same in 2-D, but at least Herzog doesn’t seem like he’s reaching for a gimmick in using it.

What’s great about a Herzog doc is that he’s not hands off like it’s found footage. He explains what he’s doing, who’s with him and how he got there. It’s Herzog, through narration, that explains the tight restrictions for cave access and lays out how he and his three man crew practically guerrilla shot there way through the caves. You’re only allowed to walk on a two-foot wide walkway, you can’t touch the cave walls or really anything in the cave, special clothing must be worn at all times, any lights used have to cold lights, and battery powered, and if that’s not enough, some sections of the cave have near toxic levels of radon and carbon dioxide.

Herzog also spends time engaging with the scientists studying the caves and discussing their findings and how they shed light on what life was like for prehistoric humans in prehistoric France. Along the way, we’re treated to some lovely Herzogisms in his deliberate, German-accented tone, which makes the documentary experience much more personal. That’s what elevates a Herzog doc above the ordinary, that voice and mind, the willingness to go off into the far corner more interested in what’s there than what might be right in front of him.

The reason that 3-D is advantageous here is because of the scenery. The depth perception of the format works as the immediate cave wall, again only illuminated by a couple of cold lights, pops right out in front of the camera with yawning darkness going on behind. There’s also a neat laser map of the whole cave system, which looked like a constellation of stars against the black screen behind it. But the 3-D is an enhancive experience. It will be well worth the extra cash when it comes out in theatres, but I don’t think the overall quality of the movie, or its impact, would be diminished without it.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams is another triumph for Herzog, who actually has a pretty long list of those already. If nothing else, the film offers a look inside a human artefact that you’ll probably never be able to see in real life, like the wreck of the Titanic or a visit to the Antarctic. Still, nobody visualizes like Herzog, and with him at the helm this look at the Chauvet Caves is as much a waking dream, a meditation on times past, as it is their actual exploration. Cave of Forgotten Dreams is a time capsule film about a time capsule, and it’s surely one that can’t be missed.

TIFF - Trigger

Rating: ***1/2

Originally conceived, apparently, as a sequel to Hard Core Logo, Trigger is not Hard Core Logo. It’s by Bruce McDonald, and it’s about musicians, but that’s about all that these two movies have in common. Seemingly modelled off, or inspired by, My Dinner With Andre, Trigger is a kind of Before Sunset with a lot of walking around and talking and waxing poetic about life, love and art.

The film follows two former rockers named Kat (Molly Parker) and Vic (Tracy Wright), who form the titular band. In the prologue we see a rather nasty fight unfold on stage in silent black and white footage, which was, we assume, the duo’s final show together. Flash forward a decade and the two meet up again for dinner in an upscale Toronto restaurant. Vic seems out of place, while Kat slides right in saying that she knows the chef and orders the quail. See where this is going?

Kate and Voc talk about music, life in L.A. (for Kate), working corporate, their respective substance abuse problems and whether or not they want to swing by this gig recognizing the contributions of women to rock, including Trigger of course. There’s so much to say and so little time, but a lot is shared over the course of the film’s 80 minute running time.

For added poignancy, there’s the fact that Tracy Wright passed away earlier this summer after battling pancreatic cancer. Trigger was rushed into production when Wright was diagnosed, and knowing that I couldn’t help but feel there was an unspoken reference to that in the way that Wright played Vic; whether, like Wright herself, Vic was facing her own mortality. Perhaps, the only reason she’d reconnect with Kate is because she knew it was the last time she’d be able too? There’s something terrible and gracious about that.

But even with such dark thoughts, Trigger is a wonderfully written movie. Parker and Wright also get the chance to rock out in one scene as Trigger reunites on stage for the first time in over 10 years. Weirdly though, the scene at this concert is the only music that sticks out in my mind when thinking about this movie. Perhaps that’s not so weird, it’s been done before. Besides, I don’t think music is the point. Trigger is about the people that matter in our lives and about how infrequently we really share with them the knowledge that they’re that important.

While it was hard not be mesmerized by the actresses and their delivery of a very dialogue heavy script, there seemed like times that the story was trying a bit too hard to create conflict. As well, it seems in the end to run out of steam a little bit, as if everything’s been said and the pen is having trouble finding a way to round everything off. That could be an element of exhaustion though considering that the movie goes from dusk till dawn with Kate and Vic yakking all the way.

Despite that, I found Trigger an enjoyable film; a kind of one act play that’s elegant in its simplicity. The difference being that you’ll either be taken away by the performances or you won’t, though I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be. The two leading ladies are dynamic and energetic, bringing a genuine feeling of tension and history with the way they interact. There are a number of cameos by recognizable Canadian actors like Sarah Polley, Callum Keith Rennie and Wright’s long-time partner Don McKeller and the film gave me two really great lines, one of whish is “Rock ’n’ roll is an odour.” That’s a delightful bit of criticism that I intend to use the next time I write an album review.

But in all seriousness, Trigger is a great tribute to the life and work of Tracy Wright and I appreciate the talent and dedication brought to bear by the other actor and filmmakers in order to giver her this really great send off. Trigger is a tribute to the artists who think they’re forgotten, but really aren’t. Like the young girls with their own band who recognize Vic in line at the Mod Club, there’s always someone new to meet who you’ve inspired. I’m sure the same will be said for Tracy Wright in years to come.

TIFF - Repeaters

Rating: ****

Repeating the same day over and over again is a well tested sci-fi concept in which a character or characters is allowed to do-over the same day again and again to learn about themselves and allow for some personal growth. Naturally in these scenarios, whether it’s the Bill Murray comedy Groundhog Day or the episode of Stargate SG-1 entitled “Window of Opportunity”, there is also opportunity for more selfish and/or reckless acts to be explored without consequence.

The new Canadian film Repeaters covers much of this same ground, but takes it a step further. What if there were a trio of people repeating the same Wednesday over and over again, and while two of the three take the chance for personal growth, the third just dives deeper and deeper into debauchery of his own making? An impressive triad of actors make up this group of formally drug-addicted twentysomethings who, through a freak accident involving a lightening storm, end up going to sleep one night and waking up that same morning.

This day is a special one for our heroes, and not just because of their new found abilities. It’s the first day that they’re allowed out of rehab on a day pass and their councillor (Ben Ratner) wants them to use the freedom to address the human cost, or cause, of their addiction. Dustin Mulligan is Kyle Halstead, who tries to reconcile with his high school aged sister to no success. Amanda Crew is Sonia Logan, who goes to the hospital to visit her dying father but finds that she can’t get past the door. And Richard De Klerk is Michael Weeks, who goes to prison to visit his father only to have the old man get enraged at the sight him.

Indubitably, these are three messed up kids, so naturally their first reaction to these new found powers is to shoplift, break and enter, drink themselves stupid, get high, knock over a liquor store and force the local drug dealer to eat cow piles at gun point. But like they say, it’s all fun and games until Kyle and Sonia use one of their repeats to save a young girl from killing herself, only to have that same girl end up getting raped by Michael. What’s the problem, he says, she won’t remember because today starts all over again. Thus begins Michael’s downward spiral into deeper depravity as Kyle and Sonia wonder if their abilities are meant for something more.

The movie plays out fairly predictably, but there’s unquestionable style in director Carl Bessai’s delivery. Arne Olsen’s script does its job by drawing the characters very well and the actors imbue those roles with a lot of realism and sincerity. The emotional beats are satisfying and not overplayed, and the sci-fi centre never overpowers the human drama. While the key to the trio’s breaking the time loop is fairly implied, Bessai plays things quite nicely with a smart and slightly twisty climax.

Repeaters is high concept fair that’s as familiar and foreboding as the North Vancouver locations used to film it in. A surprising low-key and effective film, Repeaters may be worth checking out again, and at the very least seeing once. It’s a very strong production for a simple and occasionally overdone idea, which shows again that in the right hands old ideas can seem fresh. With terrific acting, a fine script and a sure hand behind the camera (quite literally since Bessai was director of photography and lead camera operator), Repeaters is immensely satisfying, and doesn’t require any do-overs.

TIFF - Black Swan

Rating: ****

If there was a hot ticket at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival it was Black Swan, the new psychological thriller from Darren Aronofsky about a ballerina driven mad by Swan Lake. Well, that’s not a completely accurate or valid description of the plot, but as an elevator pitch it’s not bad, and it probably has your attention if it didn’t already. A compelling and exciting work, Black Swan will definitely make you think about ballet as more than the bear in the little car (Homer Simpson reference. Sorry.)

At the heart of the film is an effective, but not astounding, performance by Natalie Portman as Nina, a ballerina of obvious talent, but is perhaps too controlled to really flourish in a leading role. Nina gets a chance to prove herself when cast in a new version of Swam Lake, but unlike perhaps more blander versions of the ballet, company director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) has taken the step to cast the same dancer as both the White Swan and the Black Swan.

Aronofsky has fun with themes of duplicity, exploring out darker sides, and suffering for our art. But despite that kind of weighty considerations, it seems that Aronofsky is having a good time. At the very least, despite Black Swan’s shadowy sides, Aronofsky seems a little freer, or at the very least he had a little more money and time to play with as compared to his last film, The Wrestler. What’s interesting is that where as The Wrestler featured wonderfully drawn characters in a typical redemption story, Black Swan features typical characters in a thriller that weaves and bobs and keeps you guessing.

Yes friends, Black Swan keeps you guessing. Does Nina have a doppelganger out there? Is the one other ballerina that’s trying to be friendly with her really trying to undermine her? What’s the deal with Nina’s crazy, controlling mother? All interesting questions in what could be described as a “ballet made me crazy” movie. It’s a mystery of the mind, to what degree is Nina crazy or is their really somebody in the company that’s out to get her. It’s like Inception but without all that dream stealing hooey.

Portman does reasonably well as the ballerina in the mouth of madness, although the degree to which you believe her ability as a prima ballerina was a matter of debate for a few aficionados. Basically, Nina just felt a little too bland, and despite that being the pre-eminent trait of the character, it was really hard to get beyond just how really vanilla she was. Mila Kunis, to the contrary, shows a lot of spark as Lily, but again she’s kind of the wild child and there doesn’t seem to be much more going on with her then that. Winona Ryder makes a splash as the deposed prima ballerina, and she is rather brilliant in a Joan Crawford, “no wire hangers” kind of way.

The story though is multilayered and multidimensional, and leaves you guessing over just how crazy Nina is till the bitter end. It certainly left me guessing and I was enthralled with where exactly the end result would lie. Aronofsky isn’t overly pushy, nor does he seem overly concerned with pushing the envelope as he knows that a little does a lot. A little double take here, a quick flash there and your suddenly wondering if whether Nina is seeing her own dark reflection or whether Lily is it’s living embodiment.

Black Swan works hard to develop a tone and style that’s really engrossing. Even the most ardent ballet-hater will have to admit that the film is captivating. Aronofsky really films the dancing in a visceral, almost intrusive way, and shows the power and influence of the dance for all its blood, sweat and tears. The lesson is obvious a statement in suffering for your art or killing yourself for your art, whatever you like, but it’s a potent message just the same.

As he did with making professional wrestling a thing of poetic and tragic beauty, Aronofsky has now turned ballet into an arduous, torturous test of the mind and of the soul. Of course, many have said this for years, but in the case of Black Swan we mean it in the best possible way.

TIFF - A Beginner’s Guide to Endings

Rating: ****

If you calculate the odds of success in regards to your attempted suicide by hanging, then you just might be a degenerate gambler. That’s how A Beginner’s Guide to Endings kicks off as Duke White (played amicably by Harvey Keitel) marches through a Niagara Falls amusement park with one end of rope tied as a noose around his neck, and the other tied to the end of a log. Duke calculates that there’s a 1 in 3 chance that he’ll get a quick and easy death by hanging, but doesn’t allow for the fact that the branch in the chosen tree might snap off and spare him. So, his chances are really 1 in 4, Duke figures.

True, there is a touch of gallows humour in A Beginner’s Guide to Endings, which follows Duke’s five sons as they deal with the immediate aftermath of their father’s death. Or make that supposed death since the body is never recovered. The film reminded my of The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson’s 1999 film about the dysfunctional family of an equally quirky and reckless patriarch played by Gene Hackman. But aside from a thematic commonality and similar senses of humour, Beginner’s Guide is a little more bawdy and ready to rumble than anything by Anderson.

Jason Jones, Scott Caan and Paulo Costanzo play Duke’s three oldest boys, Nuts, Cal and Jacob. Each suffers a particular affliction that stymies their personal development; Nuts is a professional boxer who got his nickname for constantly being hit by his opponents in the pelvic region, Cal is an unrepentant skirt chaser and Jacob is the one kid that got straight A’s and is organized within an inch of his life. Duke leaves a meagre inheritance to them and his two other sons, and in a kind of good news-bad news situation, Duke lets the three older boys that they have an indeterminate time left to live thanks to his signing up the boys for a drug trial 10 years earlier.

It takes a particular kind of mind to make a comedy about a group of adult children cursed to death by their father’s irresponsibility and make it funny. Director Jonathan Sobol shows himself a capable man behind the camera balancing black humour with slapstick and a dry wit.

The actors deserve a lot of the credit too with Jones, Caan and Costanzo having great comedic timing between the three of them. Keitel’s influence is pretty strong even though Duke’s role is more like an embiggened cameo. I’m a fan of Scorsese’s Mean Streets and it’s kind of funny to see a small time hustler like Charlie go to seed as a small time grafter making cash by throwing his son’s fights and signing his kids up to ingest poison one pill at a time.

But out of this bizarre confluence of people and plotlines comes an even odder mix. Beginners Guide has lovely streak of brothers sticking together through think and thin, even if it means helping them do something stupid or doing something stupid for them. Still, you can’t pretend that the humour in the film is neither dark, or biting, or completely hilarious. Even inanimate objects in this movie are given a personality; the family first aid kit is called “Rusty” and there’s a cricket bat called “The Management.” Said bat is wielded by Canadian actor Stephen McHattie who plays an Irish boxing manager named Fitz and is one of a few pretty hilarious smaller roles.

Further among those is the wicked J. K. Simmons as Duke’s brother, who is also a preacher and the lone voice of reason in the family. At Duke’s funeral, he dryly reads Lynyrd Skynyrd lyrics in lieu of a Bible verse because he doubts that Duke, though a man of faith, never actually read The Bible. Tricia Helfer sheds the steely glow of her Battlestar Galactica Cylon to play Miranda, the object of Cal’s affection despite her rather dubious record of three marriages and three dead husbands. Helfer fits right in with the (mostly) boys club, along with a brief appearance by Wendy Crewson as the boys’ kind hearted mother.

Ultimately though, Beginner’s Guide is a rare kind of comedy that’s about death but makes you forget about dying. I won’t say it’s life affirming, but there’s definitely heart underneath the laughs. The grand finale relies a little too much on coincidence and chance with a certain lost cadaver being used as a kind of deus ex machina, but otherwise, I left the theatre satisfied. No one will accuse the film of being sentimental, but A Beginner’s Guide to Endings is unique Canadian in the mixing of warmth and darkness. A black comedy with a chewy centre and a slightly bitter candy coating. And that was a compliment.

TIFF - Amazon Falls

Rating: **

Once in a great while, the festival notion of taking great films that may be otherwise overlooked and giving them the spotlight let’s you down. Amazon Falls is one of those films. An occasionally hackneyed series of clichés about show business, Amazon Falls was not an easy film to watch. Its plot is predictable, the dialogue stilted, the tone a little false if not farcical, and the only thing that keeps it descending completely into camp is the acting. The players are admirably dedicated to the parts, but one wishes that there was something more to challenge them.

Tell me if this sounds familiar: Jana (April Telek) is an aspiring actress about to celebrate birthday number 40 and she’s always one part away from “making it.” She works as a hostess in a bar where getting tips means letting rich, old and ugly-looking producers pinch you in the butt. “I feel like I need a shower,” says Li (Anna Mae Routledge), a young ingénue that Jana’s taken under her wing, after one particular horrid shift. Jana’s boyfriend Aron (Zak Santiago) is a musician with a coke habit and a bad attitude, which Jana naturally writes off as endearing because, yes Virginia, he’s young and hot and she’s a day away from 40.

The plot follows Jana as she gets exponentially more desperate as she tries to prove that – I don’t know – she didn’t waste her life? That a woman can still make it in Hollywood after 40? Maybe both? Perhaps if we had seen a little bit more of Jana the person, or if she had got the chance to express what it is that she really wants, we could have understood and cut back on the typical “Hollywood movie” stuff like the actress’ mental breakdown scene. I’ve seen Sunset Boulevard too.

Although to be fair, Jana’s breakdown scene was one of the better pieces of acting in this film, if not the best piece of acting. Beautifully understated by Telek and thankfully void of histrionics, all of Jana’s disappointment, frustration and hopelessness is perfectly palpable. I almost feel that this is the film that writer/director Katrin Bowen set out to make, but somewhere that feeling got lost and what we were left with is Bizarro Entourage coming this fall to Showcase.

But as I said, the actors I did enjoy. Telek does a really good job of conveying the struggles of actresses to fit a type, at least in form if not in overall substance. Routledge could have played Li cheaply, but like Telek, I found something deeper going on behind the material. Tom Braidwood, know to X-Files fans the world over as Lone Gunman Melvin Frohike, was a treat as the sleazy owner of the bar Jana works at, but the ace card goes to Braidwood’s fellow X-Files alum William B. Davis. Davis, well know as the conspiracy series’ nefarious Cancer Man, gets to creep it up as the producer of Jana’s first, most successful film.

Secondary to the main plot about Jana try to get a career-altering role in what’s described as a “big” and “gritty” indie feature, is the fact the she’s being pursued by Davis’ producer for a role in his ambiguously described “next project.” This after him not being heard from for years, so Jana’s hesitant. In the end, with all options exhausted, Jana shows up at the bar in a dressed that could be described as vaguely Marilyn Monroe-esque, and agrees to “go with” the producer. They get into his limo and seemingly drive off into the night.

Okay, so did I read this right? Because throughout the whole thing I thought something was off about the Davis character, but I thought it was residual creepiness from Cancer Man, but in the end I wondered if I read it right in the first place. Was he the Angel of Death taking Jana away or was he just a creep that she’s willing to be exploited by if it means more movie roles, making any death metaphors more career, soul-crushingly oriented?

I don’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that a unique opportunity to make meaningful commentary on celebrity, sexism or artistic integrity in the film business was squandered pretty thoroughly. There was promise here, but I’m not sure what happened, and the result we get is somewhat less than satisfying. Is Hollywood, a soul-crushing grindhouse of lucky chances and rampant unfairness? Sure, but I knew that already thanks. What else have you got?

TIFF - Modra

Rating: ****

Modra is a film that proves once again that you can do big things on a small budget. Ingrid Veninger has made an utterly charming movie that’s funny, beautiful and touching using a kind of cinéma vérité, a couple of very young, inexperienced actors upon which the whole film hinges, and the beautiful backdrop of the titular city.

Modra follows two Toronto teens as they take a week during their summer vacation to go on a trip to Modra, which is a small town in Slovakia. Lina (Hallie Switzer) has family there, and was originally supposed to go with her boyfriend until an ill-timed break-up scuttled those plans. Enter Leca (Alexander Gammal), who randomly calls up Lina for a date to the movies, or something, but ends up making the trek to Modra with her. If this were a Julia Roberts movie you’d probably know where things go from here. Fortunately though, it’s not.

Lina and Leca are wonderfully played because they talk, act and think like real teenagers. Unsure just what exactly Lina’s intentions are, Leca’s reaction to other guys giving Lina attention is to retreat. Lina meanwhile is unsure what to make of Leca’s obvious affection and confusing distance, although over the week they’re in Modra together she begins really caring for him.

Such awkwardness is typical of teenage romance, although it is rarely portrayed on screen in such a way. I enjoyed how Switzer and Gammal were unpolished and seemingly unpractised in their performances. There’s a great line in the beginning were Leca calls Lina and when she explains to him that she’s going to Slovakia, Leca’s reaction is to say, “Cool, they have a good hockey team.” Something about that line just encapsulates the tone of the film: real teens, real reactions. You can practically hear in Leca’s voice how suave he thinks he is when he drops that little piece of Slovak trivia.

The film itself is rather impressively crafted by the sheer fact of how simply it rolls by. There’s no camera trickery, weird angles, or really anything that seems to indicate that something more than natural light was used. It’s part of a whole naturalistic vibe to the film that seems as though sometimes that someone was following these kids along and making a documentary about them. The musical selection, including some local flavour from Bukasovy Masiv of the real life Modra, adds to the genuine essence of the film.

The bottom line is that Modra is just a really cute little movie. It’s immensely satisfying even though the most you can say that happened is that two kids have a nice vacation in the Slovakian countryside. Of course, the film works quite brilliantly as a travelogue for small town Slovakia as well, but really this movie is all about the quiet, sometimes, awkward, sometimes awe-inspiring nature of discovery. Whether that’s discoveries of the heart or discoveries of a previously unknown culture, Modra delivers it all with perfect candour.

It’s quirky, it’s funny, it’s a little inspirational, but most importantly of all, it’s utterly human. Big props once again go to Hallie Switzer and Alexander Gammal for just being so authentic. Whether it was purposefully, or it just came naturally due to lack of experience, these kids were the heart and soul of the movie and brought the story to life. It’s just one of those movies that makes you feel good after seeing it, and that’s even harder to come by then capturing something that resembles reality on the big screen. So on that account, I guess Modra’s doubly a miracle.