The forty-first installment of the Hong Kong International Film Festival drew to a close a few nights ago, concluding what is very likely my favorite fortnight of this city's cultural landscape. Filmmakers and cinéastes from every corner of the globe pour into the Pearl of the Orient, bringing with them their passion and their art. For the seventh year in a row, I anxiously studied the festival schedule, marking up the films I definitely wanted to see, and the ones that piqued my interest for further investigation. In the end, I laid out an itinerary to see around twenty, knowing my final tally would be a bit lower, with life getting in the way.
This year's festival began on a disappointing note, but quickly found its footing to take its place among the best years. On Wednesday the 12 of April, my friend Yvonne and I met at the Grand Cinema in Kowloon to see Wiener-Dog, the first of two films I had a ticket for that night. It has escaped my initial perusal of the festival catalog, but on a subsequent review I wound up investigating further. A cast to die for: Ellen Burstyn, Danny DeVito, Greta Gerwig and Julie Deply... A hilarious trailer. It seemed a perfect kickoff for the two week event. Unfortunately, the film itself was a big disappointment, and I was so depressed at its conclusion that I opted to skip the second film I had a ticket for that night and simply rush home to cuddle with Fredric.
Thursday was the eve of the following day's public holiday for Good Friday. I was exhausted and went straight home after work, debating whether or not to even go to the 10pm screening I had a ticket for: Fritz Lang's 1921 Destiny. Of course, I convinced myself to man up and make the short trek from Happy Valley to City Hall in Central. Seeing a 1920s classic restored on the big screen is an event in itself, so although I can't say Destiny has taken its place among any list of all-time favorites, I'm very glad I got a chance to experience it.
But Friday was when my movie-going kicked into high gear. Loving, a dramatization of the 1960s landmark supreme court case Loving v. Virginia, which decided once and for all that interracial marriage was Constitutional. Through powerful performances by Ruth Nega and Joel Edgerton, the story of the Lovings was touchingly brought to life, and the director and his crew did a fantastic job of evoking that era with equal parts nostalgia for the music and fashions of the day yet an honest assessment of the racial undertones that made life so difficult, so unfair, for so many.
My second film of the day was François Ozon's newest psychological drama, Frantz, which was among the films I was so excited to see. He took the skeleton of his story from an old Ernst Lubitsch drama called Broken Lullaby, but, being Ozon, he fleshed it out, added an entirely new second half, and created a thought-provoking epic about love, death, family and friendship. It's the kind of film who's memory lingers long after the screen goes black.
Saturday I caught an amazing British film called Their Finest, which told the story of the government's propaganda film department during WWII and the morale-boosting flicks they created for a war-weary public. The stirring adventure yarn provided a rousing film-within-a-film while the story of the lives of those whose talents went into its creation added a human element. The end result was certainly one of the most touching and entertaining films I caught this year.
The second film of the day was Jim Jarmush's newest personal drama, Paterson, set in my home state of New Jersey. It's a quiet film about a NJ Transit bus driver whose girlfriend dreams of making it big as a country singer or baker while he earns their collective daily bread on the streets of the titular city. His passion is poetry, which he writes in a notebook every spare moment he can find. The film, deceptively simple, traces a week in his life, and while nothing truly momentous occurs, it's a beautiful little tome on one man's innermost thoughts and how he interacts with the world around him.
Of course, Easter Sunday isn't really a day for movie-going, but there was only one screening of Nocturnal Animals at this year's festival, and there was no way I was missing it. From its mesmerizing opening title sequence through the ambiguous, devastating conclusion, I was truly riveted from start to finish. I was in awe of the crop of top-flight performers, many of whom had little more than glorified cameos (Army Hammer, Isla Fisher, Michael Sheen, Laura Linney) while the main cast (Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon and Aaron Taylor-Johnson) knocked my socks off with their dynamite work.
One of the major highlights of each festival installment is the bevvy of "Restored Classics," which this year included Akira Kurasowa's monumental Seven Samurai. Easter Monday, which is a holiday in Hong Kong, was absolutely gorgeous, weather-wise. Still, I opted to shut myself inside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre for nearly four hours to catch it. Seeing the iconic classic for the first time—although I own it on DVD—was nothing short of breathtaking.
Back to work on Tuesday after the four day weekend, I could hardly believe that the festival was entering its second week. My movie for the night was Revenger, for some odd reason the title the HKIFF Society decided to rename Walter Hill's newest venture, The Assignment. Hill explained that his goal was to update the B movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the end result was a wild ride. Sigourney Weaver was unforgettable as a half-crazed surgeon (a la Hannibal Lector) who took her revenge on the hired hit man who murdered her brother by performing an involuntary sex change operation. Michelle Rodriguez was equally memorable as Frank, the hoodlum now coming to terms with his new self while concocting the punishment for the woman who destroyed his world.
I normally plan my "two-movie days" on the weekends or public holidays, but Wednesday, in spite of working a full string of hours at the office, I managed to squeeze a double header into my evening. I caught the Star Ferry again to cross from Central to Tsim Sha Tsui, and I met up with my friends Yvonne and Danijela for the quirky Serbian flick On the Milky Road. Danijela, being Serbian, was both proud and delighted to show off a slice of her country so far away from home, and she kept whispering asides to me throughout the screening.
Then Yvonne and I hopped in a taxi to Olympic, where we had tickets to the sold-out screening of Anton Yelchin's final film, Porto, directed by Gabe Klinger. It was his first narrative feature, having cut his teeth as a film critic and documentarian before trying his hand at a new style. To boot, he appeared both before and after the screening to talk about his inspiration, the film making process and the technical side of production. The film was gorgeous to look at, and rich in detail. A longing romantic drama about a French student and American drifter whose lives intersect in the Portuguese city of its title, Porto—needless to say—was made all the more bittersweet knowing the tragic end its young lead actor came to not long after the production wrapped.
Friday might have been the highlight of the entire festival, not simply because the movie I attended itself was mesmerizing, but because its director appeared pre- and post-screening, speaking for over an hour afterwards and fielding questions from the audience. The film in question: Personal Shopper; its director: the great Olivier Assayas. Starring Kristen Stewart as the assistant of a fashion model who may or may not be receiving messages from beyond the grave, Personal Shopper was gripping, thought-provoking and chilling. It was a throwback to those great old thrillers in the Hitchcockian vein, where excitement and fear are built through suspense and innuendo as opposed to blood, gore and special effects. Sitting in the balcony of the Cultural Centre's Grand Theatre, I loved every minute of it.
Saturday I forwent with movies in favor of a wedding party on Victoria Harbour to celebrate the union of my friends Sven and Vanessa. But it was back to the cinema on Sunday, with a late screening of a Romanian film, Scarred Hearts, in Elements. Filmed in the Academy ratio and mostly comprised of perfectly static shots, Scarred Hearts tells the devastating story of a young writer convalescing from spinal tuberculosis in a seaside sanatorium. He and the other patients try their best to maintain a normal life, in spite of the personal pains and horrors that fill their waking hours. The attention to detail given to the set design and costuming, in addition to the appealing characters, made it a pleasure to watch despite its extreme length.
The festival was entering its final days, and I was both grateful for the films I'd so far experienced and disappointed that I hadn't managed to squeeze in more! So although I was tired after a full Monday in the office, I duly crossed the harbor to catch a screening of Robert Bresson's French classic Pickpocket, which I'd never seen before despite having heard and read so much about it over the years. It was another great opportunity to see one of filmdom's most revered treasures the way it was meant to be seen.
Like that, it was Tuesday, the last day of screenings. I intended to fit in two movies, just as I had intended to do that first night. And just like that night, the first film put me in such a mood that I just wasn't interested in seeing another one afterwards. Fortunately, this time, it was because I had such a feel-good high from movie number one that I simply wanted to wander around the streets of Kowloon savoring the lingering buzz of veritable cinematic euphoria!
The movie was Anne Hui's 2008 homespun drama The Way We Are. Detailing the modest daily lives of a single mom and her young son who befriend an elderly neighbor in Hong Kong's New Territories, the deceptively simple story reveals the importance of family and community. Filled with understated performances focusing on quiet, often wordless personal interaction, The Way We Are ranks among the very best Hong Kong films I've yet seen.
I wandered out of the screening room at the Hong Kong Science Museum and strolled across to the vibrant streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, eyeing the buildings, signs and people with loving attention, trying to pick out the details Ms. Hui had highlighted so poignantly in her magnificent film. I realized in those moments, as I so often do, just how lucky I am to have found myself living for over seven years now in such a special and delightful city. So the 41st Hong Kong International Film Festival ended on the highest of high notes, and I remain absolutely smitten with the place I love to call home.
Saturday I caught an amazing British film called Their Finest, which told the story of the government's propaganda film department during WWII and the morale-boosting flicks they created for a war-weary public. The stirring adventure yarn provided a rousing film-within-a-film while the story of the lives of those whose talents went into its creation added a human element. The end result was certainly one of the most touching and entertaining films I caught this year.
The second film of the day was Jim Jarmush's newest personal drama, Paterson, set in my home state of New Jersey. It's a quiet film about a NJ Transit bus driver whose girlfriend dreams of making it big as a country singer or baker while he earns their collective daily bread on the streets of the titular city. His passion is poetry, which he writes in a notebook every spare moment he can find. The film, deceptively simple, traces a week in his life, and while nothing truly momentous occurs, it's a beautiful little tome on one man's innermost thoughts and how he interacts with the world around him.
Of course, Easter Sunday isn't really a day for movie-going, but there was only one screening of Nocturnal Animals at this year's festival, and there was no way I was missing it. From its mesmerizing opening title sequence through the ambiguous, devastating conclusion, I was truly riveted from start to finish. I was in awe of the crop of top-flight performers, many of whom had little more than glorified cameos (Army Hammer, Isla Fisher, Michael Sheen, Laura Linney) while the main cast (Amy Adams, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michael Shannon and Aaron Taylor-Johnson) knocked my socks off with their dynamite work.
One of the major highlights of each festival installment is the bevvy of "Restored Classics," which this year included Akira Kurasowa's monumental Seven Samurai. Easter Monday, which is a holiday in Hong Kong, was absolutely gorgeous, weather-wise. Still, I opted to shut myself inside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre for nearly four hours to catch it. Seeing the iconic classic for the first time—although I own it on DVD—was nothing short of breathtaking.
Back to work on Tuesday after the four day weekend, I could hardly believe that the festival was entering its second week. My movie for the night was Revenger, for some odd reason the title the HKIFF Society decided to rename Walter Hill's newest venture, The Assignment. Hill explained that his goal was to update the B movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and the end result was a wild ride. Sigourney Weaver was unforgettable as a half-crazed surgeon (a la Hannibal Lector) who took her revenge on the hired hit man who murdered her brother by performing an involuntary sex change operation. Michelle Rodriguez was equally memorable as Frank, the hoodlum now coming to terms with his new self while concocting the punishment for the woman who destroyed his world.
Taken from the Star Ferry, on my way over to catch Revenger
I normally plan my "two-movie days" on the weekends or public holidays, but Wednesday, in spite of working a full string of hours at the office, I managed to squeeze a double header into my evening. I caught the Star Ferry again to cross from Central to Tsim Sha Tsui, and I met up with my friends Yvonne and Danijela for the quirky Serbian flick On the Milky Road. Danijela, being Serbian, was both proud and delighted to show off a slice of her country so far away from home, and she kept whispering asides to me throughout the screening.
Description of On the Milky Road, posted in the lobby of the Cultural Centre
Then Yvonne and I hopped in a taxi to Olympic, where we had tickets to the sold-out screening of Anton Yelchin's final film, Porto, directed by Gabe Klinger. It was his first narrative feature, having cut his teeth as a film critic and documentarian before trying his hand at a new style. To boot, he appeared both before and after the screening to talk about his inspiration, the film making process and the technical side of production. The film was gorgeous to look at, and rich in detail. A longing romantic drama about a French student and American drifter whose lives intersect in the Portuguese city of its title, Porto—needless to say—was made all the more bittersweet knowing the tragic end its young lead actor came to not long after the production wrapped.
Friday might have been the highlight of the entire festival, not simply because the movie I attended itself was mesmerizing, but because its director appeared pre- and post-screening, speaking for over an hour afterwards and fielding questions from the audience. The film in question: Personal Shopper; its director: the great Olivier Assayas. Starring Kristen Stewart as the assistant of a fashion model who may or may not be receiving messages from beyond the grave, Personal Shopper was gripping, thought-provoking and chilling. It was a throwback to those great old thrillers in the Hitchcockian vein, where excitement and fear are built through suspense and innuendo as opposed to blood, gore and special effects. Sitting in the balcony of the Cultural Centre's Grand Theatre, I loved every minute of it.
Olivier Assayas!
Saturday I forwent with movies in favor of a wedding party on Victoria Harbour to celebrate the union of my friends Sven and Vanessa. But it was back to the cinema on Sunday, with a late screening of a Romanian film, Scarred Hearts, in Elements. Filmed in the Academy ratio and mostly comprised of perfectly static shots, Scarred Hearts tells the devastating story of a young writer convalescing from spinal tuberculosis in a seaside sanatorium. He and the other patients try their best to maintain a normal life, in spite of the personal pains and horrors that fill their waking hours. The attention to detail given to the set design and costuming, in addition to the appealing characters, made it a pleasure to watch despite its extreme length.
The festival was entering its final days, and I was both grateful for the films I'd so far experienced and disappointed that I hadn't managed to squeeze in more! So although I was tired after a full Monday in the office, I duly crossed the harbor to catch a screening of Robert Bresson's French classic Pickpocket, which I'd never seen before despite having heard and read so much about it over the years. It was another great opportunity to see one of filmdom's most revered treasures the way it was meant to be seen.
Like that, it was Tuesday, the last day of screenings. I intended to fit in two movies, just as I had intended to do that first night. And just like that night, the first film put me in such a mood that I just wasn't interested in seeing another one afterwards. Fortunately, this time, it was because I had such a feel-good high from movie number one that I simply wanted to wander around the streets of Kowloon savoring the lingering buzz of veritable cinematic euphoria!
The movie was Anne Hui's 2008 homespun drama The Way We Are. Detailing the modest daily lives of a single mom and her young son who befriend an elderly neighbor in Hong Kong's New Territories, the deceptively simple story reveals the importance of family and community. Filled with understated performances focusing on quiet, often wordless personal interaction, The Way We Are ranks among the very best Hong Kong films I've yet seen.
I wandered out of the screening room at the Hong Kong Science Museum and strolled across to the vibrant streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, eyeing the buildings, signs and people with loving attention, trying to pick out the details Ms. Hui had highlighted so poignantly in her magnificent film. I realized in those moments, as I so often do, just how lucky I am to have found myself living for over seven years now in such a special and delightful city. So the 41st Hong Kong International Film Festival ended on the highest of high notes, and I remain absolutely smitten with the place I love to call home.
See you next year!
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