Trophy: NZIFF Review

Trophy: NZIFF Review

Perhaps the most confrontational, yet sensitively nuanced piece of documentary making, Trophy takes you into the world of big game hunting and the arguments which lie within.

Opening with a father and son climbing into a camouflaged outpost before the son shoots a deer and concluding with the shooting of one of our species' finest, this documentary is provocative in ways you'd expect and disappointing in ways you wouldn't.

Smartly deciding to avoid any sensationalism, filmmakers Shaul Schwarz and Christina Clusiau decide to follow one hunter, Phillip,  who's determined to kill the Big 5 and one South African businessman John Hume whose belief and desire is to legally flood the market with rhino horn to prevent the tide of poachers.

It could be a potent mix, and in parts of Trophy, perceptions and arguments over big game conservatism get a good solid airing, as figures point to the fact that since 1970 the world's lost 60% of its wild animals.

Equally, both Schwarz and Clusiau don't shy away from showing the horrific aftermath of a poacher's rampage - and certainly the sight of a rhino calf crying and running around in the equivalent of Greek mourning after its mother has been killed is nothing short of heart-rending and harrowing

Trophy's strength is how it flips perception of the argument and how you think you know what's going to be said, before actually giving you the other point of view. Even though it falls a little into its own trappings, with Phillip given enough rope to show his ignorance later on and Hume being given the chance to shine.

But it's entirely complex in its handling of the arguments and simply offers up no easy or obvious solutions. It merely showcases and balances the debate as well as juxtaposing the clashes of ideologies against a backdrop of a hunter shooting a restrained animal in the head. This is no easy journey, and it's refusal to adhere to a  no hear no evil, see no evil approach deserves commendation.

In the back of the doco, it perhaps squanders some of the more interesting elements over Hume's crusade and desires coming back to haunt him, but one suspects this was a time constraint and perhaps it's fair to suggest this was the meatier part of the final debate - the cost, both literally and figuratively, to those involved. It's a complex and confronting doco that doesn't squander sensitivity for the salacious by any stretch of imagination.

Ultimately, Trophy is a smartly put together piece on an endlessly difficult subject. It deserves commendation for an unswerving dedication to both sides and be aware, it won't leave you with a feeling of resolution at the end, merely the feeling the debate needs to be had.

It Comes At Night: NZIFF Review

It Comes At Night: NZIFF Review

Cast: Joel Edgerton, Carmen Ejogo, Kelvin Harrison Jr, Christopher Abbott, Riley Keough
Director: Trey Edward Shults

Balancing tension, claustrophobia and paranoia in equal measures, Trey Edward Shults' film It Comes At Night is a chamber piece for the doomsday preppers among you.

Opening with an old man struggling to breathe before he's put in a wheelbarrow and unceremoniously rolled out by gas-masked unknowns, accompanied by a red jerry can and a gun, It Comes At Night goes for the gut-wrenching right away, a veritable sucker punch to the "This could be any of you" ethos that punctuates its survivalist core.

Revealing the gas mask wearers to be a family, headed up by patriarch Paul (Joel Edgerton, bearded and downbeat), It Comes At Night zeroes in on their isolation in a house in the woods. With his wife (Ejogo) and son Travis (Harrison Jr) in tow, Paul's family unit is embedded into this post-apocalyptic world.

But when Christopher Abbot's desperate Will breaks in to their house one night, seemingly searching for supplies for his wife and child, a ticking time bomb of suspicion and mistrust is placed within this tight-knit unit.

And things are further exacerbated when Will brings his brood back to the house....

Less an outright horror, more a creeping insidious terror, It Comes At Night is perhaps more a psychological experience than a full-on fright fest.

It helps that surrendering to Shults' rhythms is the way to settle into this sedately-paced film that lies on soundtrack and palpable tension to ratchet things up. With claustrophobic close-ups and wide shots of corridors and an ominous red door in and out of the house, the dread is easily created early on.

Shults uses his weary-looking cast to ramp up an atmosphere of unease that's as menacing as it is frustrating, though an over-reliance on differently aspect-ratioed dream sequences involving Travis' night terrors punctuate way too much of this film as it unfolds.

Bleak and desolate it may be, while relying on the hoary trope of the unseen menace within the woods and that's always at arms-length, It Comes At Night uses its sparing sense of fear to reasonably terrifying effect. Dialogue propels great amounts of the implied ambiguity within as the survivalist nightmare reaches to a crescendo.

It's not exactly the kind of film which is going to leave many feeling bright and breezy, though with the reminder of a constant fear from the Doomsday Clock edging ever closer to midnight in these current climes maybe informing the NZIFF's desire to programme this, it does seem scarily prescient.
Abbott and Edgerton make for uneasy bedfellows as Will and Paul, and Travis' mixing of sexual awakening with a creeping sense of voyeurism at the new family (in particular, the wife played by The Girlfriend Experience's Riley Keough) proving to be a heady mix of uncertainty, there's more than enough to creep out those watching.

Fundamentally slow (despite its brevity and 90 minutes run time) and distinctly unsettling, It Comes At Night may prove to be a polarising film festival experience, but its quietly devastating voyage is deep-rooted in singularly human basic instincts - and is all the more terrifying for it.

I Am Not A Witch: NZIFF Review

I Am Not A Witch: NZIFF Review

Muted and yet surprisingly moving in its final moments, debut director Ryungano Nyoni's I Am Not A Witch is the tale of Shula, a girl living in Zambia.

The nine-year old is accused of witchcraft and hauled in front of local authorities, where the policewoman in charge is regaled with tales of her witchiness, including how she hacked off one man's arm with an axe (even though he tells the story with both arms intact.)

As the will of the village is to condemn her as a witch, Shula is sent to be part of the witch's community, an ostracised sect that live with ribbons tied to their backs, and whose freedom is held in check by giant rollers that go wherever they go.

But Shula's "powers" are questioned when she's asked to preside in a trial over a theft, and to identify the thief. Apparently being blessed with the sight, Shula's showered with gifts of gratitude, some of which are taken by her charge, the corrupt government official Mr Banda and the rest which are given to the remaining members of her witch's community.

However, Shula herself begins to resist the idea of being pigeonholed as something she is clearly not....

I Am Not A Witch is mournful and despite offering some obviously comic moments, Nyoni's film has depressing overtones for the world we currently live in. With Trump's America and The Handmaid's Tale clearly ringing in our collective ears, it's hard not to view I Am Not A Witch as some kind of rejoinder to this state of current global affairs. And while Nyoni's view is that the film mocks the Zambian way of life, it's heartbreaking to see the nine-year-old girl caught up in a world which literally shackles the women around it, in an overt form of slavery.

In among all this, Margaret Mulubwa's turn as quiet little Shula makes the film quite poignant and ultimately impressively moving. Whether it's dealing with a tourist who just wants a picture with the witch as she sits dejected in a totem she's been placed in for days or simply watching the village harangue and turn against her early on, Mulubwa's eyes do it all.

And while some of the scenes feel a little stretched and could have been excised, there's no denying the final sequence's power and imagery. Throughout I Am Not A Witch, Nyoni imbues the screen with some powerful shots and some simple images that speak volumes. It's here the power and tragedy of I Am Not A Witch emerges.

Bittersweet, sad and scathing of Zambia, Nyoni's I Am Not A Witch really does have a way of casting a spell on you that you'd perhaps not expect.

Kedi: NZIFF Review

Kedi: NZIFF Review

Cast: Cats, Istanbul vistas, People
Director: Ceyda Torun

It's perhaps no surprise that a documentary about cats is as fluffy as one of the feline's tails.

But it's also perhaps no surprise that this gentle doco is as amiable and as universal as they come.

Against the backdrop of Istanbul's streets, so beautifully captured and brought to life on the big screen, Kedi follows seven different cats with distinct personalities and a grip on the people who inhabit the streets and live their daily humdrum lives.

With Torun running a street level rig, the film follows the pussies as they weave their way in and out of people's lives, shopfronts and cajole them to feed them.
There's no ground-breaking reason for Kedi to exist; it's simply a case of documenting life on the streets.

However, what emerges from the cod-philosophising of the nameless faces that extol the virtues of the rampant animals running amok in a friendly way, is a sense of community and a sense of belonging that these critters engender.

Despite the odd hyperbole spun by some of the anthropomorphizing and projecting tendencies of the commenters (one woman draws a long bow between how the female cats stand strong and upright in their dignity, whereas women of their religion are cowed and oppressed and that she "doesn't see elegance in women like that anymore"), what starts to emerge is a city with a tremendous sense of heart above all else.

As is mentioned early on, the cats have been there for thousands of years, and have seen empires grow and fall; they are as timeless in the fabric of the city as those who look after them.
From the baker who has an open tab at the vets to help to the sailor who feels duty bound to hand rear a litter of kittens whose mother has disappeared, this is the milk of human kindness writ large on the screen. Along with furry feline interactions - whether it's cat looking like it's been caught on camera stealing fish or another staring photogenically down the lens, there's something for all animal lovers here, though the more hardened cinema-goer may find parts of their own fur bristling as time goes on.

Slow-mo close-ups will look radiant upon the big screen and the film-makers in their gentle touches do nothing more than desire to elicit a sympathetic "Aww" from those subjected to this endless parade of cute.

Unlike the viciousness of former fest outing White God's canine uprising, Kedi has a soothing tone and deceptively simple ambitions to fulfill which it hits with relative ease throughout; it aims to showcase a city awash in humanity, with a co-existence of cats and their masters, basking in the glow of simpler times.

Kedi may not be cinematic catnip to the likes of Gareth Morgan, but there's a strong case to say that any animal lover or family seeking a gentle outing will be entranced by the warmth of this microcosm of furry life.

The Party: NZIFF Review

The Party: NZIFF Review

Continuing the British desire to only unburden repressed feelings in social gatherings, Sally Potter's The Party builds a fragile house of cards at a soirée, only to consequently scatter the deck without any food being served.

Opening with a 'how did they get here?' moment, the black and white melodrama plays out with some acidic aplomb by the troupe of players.

All gathered to celebrate Kristin Scott Thomas' Janet's ascension to ministry and politics, a group of fractured and apparently fragile friends begin to unravel in only the delicious way the Brits know how.

As the group comes together, Timothy Spall's Bill sits solo in the front room, hunched and haunted on a chair, with a wine glass in one hand, and with a near catatonic look on his face. But as the night goes on, everyone comes under scrutiny in some form or other.

Like a scab being ripped off or an itch incessantly being scratched, The Party's thrills come from the unexpected turn of events and the inevitably entangled revelations.

Perhaps it teeters perilously towards the end with disbelief, but Potter's black and white film crackles with dry acidity and typical scorn throughout, all topped off with a deliciously dark dry tragedy languishing within. It's fraught with spoilers to unveil what transpires within, but needless to say the troupe of players from Spall's distanced Bill, Thomas' haughty and yet easy to humble Janet, Patricia Clarkson's acidic April to Cillian Murphy's on edge Tom, all delivering in spades.

It helps the script is laced with one-liners and withering moments, as the sourness of the situation becomes more evident. In many ways, the film feels like a play with its whirling deliciousness on words and desire to ratchet up the moments to near contrived, but in Potter's hand, the curt run time feels just about right; any more would over-egg this pudding and any further reveals would push this dangerously close to cliche.

The Party's power lies in the picking over of the relationships and the unbinding of those ties; it's thanks to all involved that the polish and sheen comes tumbling from the screen; in black and white and close up, every detail is nuanced; from Spall's heavily white flecked beard to Murphy's drug-induced sweats, Potter's camera captures every subtlety.

This is most definitely one party to RSVP to at the Festival.

The Square: NZIFF Review

The Square: NZIFF Review

Provocative, confronting, and yet also unexpectedly amusing, the NZIFF's opening night film and the 2017 Palme D'Or winner The Square, from Force Majeure director Ruben Ostlund, is something else.

A satire on social reactions set within an art museum, it follows the museum's director Christian (Claes Bang) as a series of events are set in motion after the theft of his mobile phone. With a new exhibit set to launch, Christian should have his eyes and attention on what's ahead, but is dangerously distracted by the inane.

As events spiral, Ostlund's film teeters dangerously once again on a precipice between commentary on others and our social interactions - and as a result, it offers up some truly astounding moments of awkwardness and the surreal.

There's no denial that the loosest of threads pulls the rest of the film together, and there are moments that make The Square feel like a confrontational series of sketches that very occasionally feel disparate and in danger of breaking off like an iceberg from the main narrative.

It helps little that the film's punishing 140 minute run time becomes a slog in the final hurdle and certainly even though The Square's lost 20 minutes in an edit, a few more cuts could have helped the searing truly soar high above the cinematic stratosphere.

And yet, when Ostlund turns his precise eye to social commentary, there's nothing more piercing.

With Sweden's streets littered with beggars and with cries of Help Me resounding in many of these scenes, there's a humility and an horrific mirror cast upon society and their trivial concerns. The public and the private are meshed and simultaneously ripped apart under his precise directorship.

If Force Majeure's focus was solely on the family and the dynamic post the event, The Square's broader and wider ambitions occasionally threaten to stop it from achieving glory as it loses its edge towards the end.

But on the way in this high wire act, one scene stands alone - a sequence in a high society dinner event for the museum that's terrorised by a performance artist behaving like a gorilla. Simultaneously amusing and utterly terrifying, this moment of Ostlund's film is electrifying. It's here that the societal commentary comes into play and that Ostlund makes you shift uneasily in your seat.

And it's for moments like this, as well as surrealist broad comedy that The Square commands to be seen - it's confrontational, outrageous and it's out of nowhere attitude at times mean it's as unpredictable as it comes. However, in the wash, it may see you asking some serious questions about how we are wanting and examining its commentary on what society reacts to and ignores - it's here The Square's power is compelling.

The Red Turtle: DVD Review

The Red Turtle: DVD Review

Released by Madman Home Ent

Studio Ghibli's latest sees Dutch British director Michael Dudok de Witt taking on the story of a castaway on an island.

As the film begins, in greying waters and stormy seas, the man is tossed asunder, his boat ripped from him. Clutching onto it, he makes it to shore - albeit on a completely deserted island. Woken the next day by a crab running up his leg, the man plots to escape, using bamboo canes to make a raft.

But his attempts are thwarted by something smashing the raft.... with desperation setting in, the castaway tries again; this time, his nemesis is revealed - a red turtle...

Mixing existentialism, some sumptuous hand drawn and painted animation, facials that look similar to Herge's Tintin executions and all scored to a lushly mournful and occasionally soaring soundtrack, the animation The Red Turtle is wordless and will leave you breathless.

While comedy of the occasion is provided by a clutch of crabs scuttling back and forth in the castaway's world, the soar-away visuals of the castaway's plight, his midnight delusions and what happens may have a propensity to hit where it counts - in the heartstrings.

As the survival tale plays out over its 80 minute duration, there's Laurent Perez del Mar's soundtrack to send you into orchestrated orbit as the simple story unfurls.

It's a meditation of existence and of soul-searching as the castaway adapts to the rhythms of the island and the machinations of survival - but some of this may go over younger minds heads even if they are willing to go with the animated flow.

Ultimately though, The Red Turtle is a film that has deeper meaning, and will be a personal tale to each member of the audience.

It's a rumination on our place in the world, and acceptance thereof; all beautifully encapsulated in a Studio Ghibli  hand-drawn co-production that once again hits the heart strings and engages the brain so much - even when it offers so little by way of execution.