Talking Jirga with Sam Smith and director Ben Gilmour

Talking Jirga with actor Sam Smith and director Ben Gilmour

Jirga is playing the New Zealand International Film Festival.
At the film's opening in Australia during the Sydney Film Festival, actor Sam Smith and director Ben Gilmour very generously gave of their time to offer some insight into the film, the various problems it faced with filming (after permissions were withdrawn and funding removed, the production had to shoot undercover) and the reason for its redemption arc.

Benjamin Gilmour will present his film in person at its NZIFF screenings.

Tell us a bit about your film
BEN: The film Jirga is about a foreign soldier, an Australian soldier, who goes back to Afghanistan as a tourist – he’s left the army – to track down the family of a civilian that he killed in the heat of battle a few years earlier and to beg their forgiveness. It’s a redemption film. It’s about the ongoing war there that has been… you know, we’re in our 17th year, and the strategy’s not changing, and Afghans are fed up. They’re tired of the war. So it’s addressing those issues; it’s addressing the impact of war on civilians and soldiers and anyone who’s affected by the war. And it’s looking at the real damage that war does across the board and really asks us to be a little bit more careful in sending soldiers thousands of kilometres away to fight on other people’s land against people who are defending their homes.

What was your aim with the redemption arc?
BEN: Well, I’ve always been drawn to the concept of forgiveness and mercy. I think of that – probably my religious upbringing – but I believe there is something in the opposite of revenge that is a key to breaking a cycle of violence and leading to peace. And some of the great pacifists spoke about that. I think Gandhi said ‘An eye for an eye makes both parties blind’ or something along those lines. If tit for tat carries on, then it will lead to the destruction of the planet ultimately. So I think at some point, one party has to stop. People have to stop and evaluate and change the tactic, change the strategy. And so I think redemption is part of that, forgiveness is part of that, and that’s the way we can move towards peace.

We're forever exploring the ramifications of conflict on film, what is it about this role that makes  Jirga different?
BEN: The difference between Jirga and a lot of the war films that are coming out of Hollywood, in my opinion, is that in Jirga, you have a soldier that is going back with humility, that is going back with genuine remorse and is putting himself at the feet of the locals. It’s respectful to Afghans, to Muslims on the ground there. Whereas if you pay closer attention to some of these films from Hollywood like American Sniper, for example, that sniper who was responsible for killing up to 200 Iraqis had no remorse about what he did. He suffered because of the tension and the pressure and the difficulties in integrating back into American life. But it has widely been reported that he had no remorse. And the audience is being asked to feel sorry for the soldier alone while the Muslims have been cast as either pathetic or villainous people that are being fought against. So I think there’s a combination of things, but ultimately… I think in Jirga it’s quite different.
SAM: The thing with Jirga, I suppose, is that you’re looking at both sides of the damage as opposed to taking a side in a film and following that line. You kind of go, well, it’s equal— It’s not necessarily equal. Both people feel, you know… And it’s not like one side is wrong, one side is right, one is black and white. It’s…
BEN: There are no winners, and it has sympathy for all. I mean, we’re not asking the audience to feel sorry for the Western soldier who’s killed a Muslim or an Afghan only. It’s the soldier that becomes that vehicle for us to enter the world of how the Afghans feel about that.

What were the challenges making the film?
SAM: That’s long. Where do you start?
BEN: The challenges in making this film is a very long list of challenges.
SAM: That’s actually a difficult question because there’s so many to choose from, you know? Do you start where the funding falls out or we rewrite it or we get blocked one day because they think that there are IEDs planted in the cave where we’re gonna film. I mean, it goes on, you know.
BEN: From no money to the security element to the lack of security to the language barrier. Trying to work out what’s going on on the set.
SAM: Also the fact that at the end of the day when we come back to check the footage, we had only Ben’s computer and they’d be full of movies or whatever, and we’d try to watch them, cos we could only watch it in four to five second glitches. So we’d be looking at it and going, ‘Oh, I think that’s in focus there.’ That’s how we would check we had the footage.
BEN: Yeah, it wasn’t good reviewing, and backing up. And after a long day of shooting, you’re trying to…
SAM: Well, you deleted- Remember we shot those scenes…?
BEN: Oh, sure. I accidentally deleted all those takes. I am sure.
SAM: I was furious. I’m sure as well.
BEN: Yeah, you performed and then it was gone.
SAM: It was a dark breakfast that morning.
BEN: I know. It was very hard to break that news to you. I’m terribly sorry about that. Look, after a full day’s shoot, you’re there and you’re filming. You’re trying to deal with the footage and you’re tired, and you just wanna go to sleep and you’re trying to make sure that you’re not messing up the transfer of the data and all the footage and managing that. You know, they’ve got people on proper film sets who’s job it is just to do that. Data wrangling.
SAM: We didn’t have a data wrangler.
BEN: We didn’t have a data wrangler and data went missing as a result, which was a shame.

What's the one moment in the film which stands out to you as an actor and as a director that you hope will resonate with others?
BEN: I hope that people who’ve seen Jirga will question the way we send our soldiers into wars and question the way they deal with conflict in their own lives.
SAM: I hadn’t really thought too much into that line. I just hope people enjoy the film.

Breath: NZIFF Review

Breath: NZIFF Review

A typical coming-of-age tale told in a slightly atypical fashion, former The Mentalist actor Simon Baker steps behind (and in front of) the camera for this adaptation of Tim Winton's book.

Centring on two kids, Pikelet and Loonie (Samson Coulter, sensitive and thoughtful and Ben Spence, instinctive and amusing) growing up in Western Australia in the 70s, Baker's Sando serves as mentor to the duo, helping them take in the waves.

But Sando keeps pushing them to go further, despite the condemnation of his other half Eva (Elizabeth Debicki, in waif and distant form) - however, Pikelet's reticence tests the boundaries of friendship with Loonie and his mentorship with Sando, as well as his own family unit.

Breath is an intriguing piece, simultaneously feeling distant in some of its narrative parts and yet frighteningly cohesive in others, and after reflection.

Perhaps consisting of one too many slow mo surfing or at water shots, Breath can be forgiven its indulgence in the waves of the ocean, thanks to some truly impressive water shots by cinematographer Rick Rifici. Pulsing waves are shot from below the surface, each one bubbling by and each showing the tumult in the relationships; the symbolism is not lost.

Elsewhere, some narrative threads feel a little unexplored; a potential school girlfriend for Pikelet is more dalliance and distraction and family tensions are hinted at rather than endorsed further.

But it's herein that lies the rub for Breath. On reflection after the lights have gone up, these relationships are explored in the way a teenager may approach them - distance helps evaluate what's transpired and why it's that way. Certainly, the relationship between Eva and Sando appears an odd one, a couple of lost souls who've found each other and are ebbing in and out like the flow of the ocean - there's much in Winton's prose that hints and there's much in Baker's restrained direction that offers deeper connections when probed.

In the relationship between the sensitive Pikelet and the gregarious Loonie, Coulter and Spence gel well, each pushing and pulling the tensions where necessary; feeling naturalistic in many ways, and evocative in others, this is a relationship that needs no deeper dissection; it breathes on its own and works well because of it.

"I've never seen men do something so beautiful, so pointless and so elegant" intones Pikelet in his later years - but in many ways, he could be hinting at the relationships that come from growing up; in caressing the tensions, and the triumphs of youth and friendships, Breath inhales deeply on its intensity and strips away its own profundity in places.

Breath is at once a complex beast at times, and yet one that feels familiar and simple, elegiacally executed - in many ways, it's one NZIFF film that demands further introspection and re-examination.

Disobedience: NZIFF Review

Disobedience: NZIFF Review

For all the theology opening and the deep soaking of Jewish tradition in Disobedience, it has to be said there's scant depth to what Disobedience unspools in terms of character.

Rachel Weisz is Ronit, the black sheep of the Jewish family whose return is necessitated by the death of her father. But many are unhappy to see her back in England's drab and dreariness including Dovid (Alessandro Nivola) and his new wife Esti (Rachel McAdams).

But Ronit's return rekindles something in Esti - and soon the perils of the outsider are thrust deep within the community, threatening to reignite both old passions and even deeper hatreds.

Drab, dreary backgrounds pepper the dour proceedings to start off with - London's backdrops stultify and threaten to overcome Ronit's natural incandescences, a woman who threw off the shackles of tradition to the disappointment of all around her.

Certainly, the hints are laid early on, in some naturalistic dialogue that drops emotional bombs later on as the intense recoupling rebirths.

Director Sebastien Lelio gives life to the struggles of the outsider, but Disobedience rarely feels more than a chamber piece between Esti and Ronit; and with the third wheel of Dovid thrown in for good measure. It lives and breathes like a play, as it piles up small emotional stakes building them into greater barriers as time goes on.

Largely restrained, Disobedience benefits from tasteful touches, and passionate clinches - even if occasionally, they feel borderline to voyeuristic, something which in truth is more the fault of an audience investment in the outcasts storyline. The sense of longing, the sense of connection and the sense of duty all swirl in one potent mix, and while Disobedience's palette is one of dour dismal skylines, what bubbles beneath is fiery and difficult to quell.

But Disobedience never fully breaks out to rage against the patriarchal society, the Jewish clasp thrown down upon these women - it's a frustration muted into a quiet scream as events transpire, and while the film is perfectly adequately explored and extolled, it never once finds the emotion to send it soaring high and beyond - despite the threesome offering some truly strong performances.

Jirga: NZIFF Review

Jirga: NZIFF Review

Although it begins with soldiers taking a compound by storm in Afghanistan through the viewing lens of night time vision, Jirga's less a film about soldier bravura and more a film that's about one soldier wrestling with a conscience.

Former Home and Away alumnus Sam Smith plays Mike Wheeler, who, as the film begins, can be seen heading back to Afghanistan with a money belt secreted around his body.

It's no secret to reveal he's off to make amends for what happened in the raid mentioned above, but what Jirga is more interested in doing is a sort of parable about atonement and guilt - the religious allusions of which aren't lost by director Benjamin Gilmour sending his lead shambling through the desert at one point.

But if the path trodden by this clandestine drama (it was shot on the quiet in Afghanistan after permits were denied in Pakistan) is all too familiar in terms of its themes, its quiet splendour is obvious as the journey plays out.

It's sparse in extremis, but Gilmour makes good fist of the landscape, even finding a way to incorporate a pink flamingo pedalo into proceedings that contrasts nicely with the stark arid deserts all around.

"Forgiveness is better than revenge" is uttered at one point in the film, and Smith provides the internal conflict with a human face as the guilt becomes evident. There's a sense here that this is about giving voice to the human side of conflict, and as such, while admirable, aside from how the film is presented and shot, it's not a new conceit.

There are some narrative leaps - Wheeler manages to persuade his apparently violent captors of his benevolent journey when cornered, but Jirga never loses face or furore when the end comes. Granted, its profundity is more of the smaller variety than anything bigger, but that's perhaps Gilmour's intentions.

The power and the rawness of the eventual meeting between Wheeler and the family he's wronged may ache with reality, but by resisting a desire to overplay it, Gilmour and Smith make the film something a little different.

Not entirely successful in its execution (perhaps a sense of the denial of permits and the clandestine nature of filming muted some of the plans) and with very familiar themes, Jirga manages to achieve more than you'd expect with an almost spiritual level of commitment and debate all round.

You Were Never Really Here: NZIFF Review

You Were Never Really Here: NZIFF Review

Director Lynne Ramsay's thriller is bathed in brutality, but also beaten down in humanity.

A hooded, hulking and haunted Joaquin Phoenix is Joe, a hitman former veteran, whose specialty is saving children from sex rings.

Aside from the repugnance of his day job, Joe spends the time outside of the job looking after his mother, who's ailing and in need of care.

But when Joe's called in to a kidnapping of a US senator, what he believes is a cut-and-dry job turns into something a lot more personal - and potentially fatal.

Based on the 2013 Jonathan Ames' novel, Ramsay's sparsity with the camera work and the hallucinatory material within works masterfully for You Were Never Really Here.

It's aided by a sterling turn by Phoenix, whose intensity is suited to the anger contained within Joe as he dispatches his law-breakers with a hammer. But Phoenix also makes a case for real tenderness in terms of his interaction with his mother and also the victims of the child sex rings.

It's these touches which lift You Were Never Really Here out of the darkness that it inhabits.

Ramsay (who did We Need To Talk About Kevin) keeps things taut and interesting throughout - rather than fixating on the violent means of despatching, she angles the camera away from proceedings.

When Joe breaks into a hotel to free his victims, CCTV footage shows the scene but cuts just before the method of murder is revealed; equally a desperate fight on the floor is depicted through a ceiling mirror - it's impressive stuff that's not too showy, but very effective.

It helps with the disorientation too, as You Were Never Really Here has an overall feeling of thrilling wooziness as it plays out.

Greatly enhanced by a turn from Phoenix that keeps you riveted as the conspiracy plays out, You Were Never Really Here is as much of a trip for the audience as it is on screen.

It may be a trip to a seedy underbelly, but thanks to Ramsay and Phoenix, it's a trip that's well worth taking.

Minding The Gap: NZIFF Review

Minding The Gap: NZIFF Review

It's possibly fair to say that Bing Liu's debut documentary film was never planned to be anything more than capturing stolen moments of boys-being-boys, skateboarding and shooting the breeze in small town America.

But what emerges from the film, once it settles from its initial shots of kerb-hopping and open-road boarding and divests into life, is a fascinating, maddening and saddening portrait of what it means to be a boy, and how it is to grow up a man these days.

Thrusting the camera on Zack and Keire, and himself, Bing Liu's film finds a horrific connection that goes deeper than simply half-piping and boarding. Some of it comes from Zack feeling he's been forced into being a man, when his girlfriend becomes pregnant; and some of it comes from when Keire starts to feel lost, looking to his past for answers, and some of it comes from Liu himself looking to his past.

It may sound gimmicky but what occurs organically in this film is a wealth of paradigm shifts, each more subtle than the last, but each with more resounding consequences than are to be expected.

It's also a study of middle American life, of towns abandoned and of prospects unlikely; there's a depressing lyricism to what unfolds as the lads go from initial jackassing around on camera to waxing lyrical about where it went wrong or where it's going. Hope is randomly allocated in Zack and Keire's lives, but there's much to be gained from what seem to outside viewing like small victories for flighty spirits such as Zack.

Keire's trajectory is as interesting as Zack's too, as he faces what it means to be African-American in among his friends - in many ways, this is seismic stuff softly explored on the screen and subtly worth engaging with.

Minding the Gap is not a doco where bombs are dropped, more where hints of minor frustrations and realisations occur - but in their universality, these are compellingly and precisely told for the most part. There's a feeling one conflict is sadly left unexplored, but equally that confrontation is another consequence of friendship and boundaries.

Ultimately, Minding the Gap is a human take on where boys struggle with being men, and where toxic masculinity resides ; poignant, powerful and prescient, it's a documentary that lingers long after.

Pick of the Litter: NZIFF Review

Pick of the Litter: NZIFF Review

So, here it is - this year's Kedi.

Whereas the tale of Turkish kitties was a story of animals, their surroundings and the people that adopt them, Pick Of the Litter is an unashamed piece of furry kryptonite, determined to deliver some close ups of adorable puppies.

Choosing to follow five Labrador puppies as they undergo training for guide dogs for the blind in the USA is not the most taxing of intentions.

However, Dana Nachman and Don Hardy's documentary is unashamed in its desires and is oblivious to the notion of going deeper in this once-over-lightly piece that just about entertains for its 80 minute run time.

Primrose, Poppet, Phil, Potomac and Patriot are all born within the walls of a Guide Dogs building in California and all have the potential to change future owners lives. But not if they fail basic training and their puppy raisers don't meet the mark.

With a couple of the pups passed around different trainers, the interesting parts of the film and the dilemmas which reside within are largely ignored in a brisk and brutally cute piece that's aiming for Hallmark thrills rather than in-depth investigations.

Perhaps the more interesting and knottier elements of the film are dropped in amid the cutesier touches as the dogs are "career changed" (lingo for being moved out of the programme) and disappear from our immediate view.

Questions over the ethics of in-house breeding, what kind of a life that must be, the cost of doing it, both financially and emotionally for the organisation and more specifically the trainers are vaulted over at such speed that it's dizzying.

It's a shame as there are hints of some darkness here that are genuinely worth exploring, and which linger rather than being dug into. Some trainers have the dogs taken from them with a disconnect between the administration and the owners unable to be reconciled; issues over whether there are problems with expectations are hinted at - there's a lot more meat to be explored here, but doesn't get done so.

It's not to say that Pick Of The Litter isn't engaging - certainly, if you're an animal lover, you'll adore it, and you'll end up invested in which of the five pups - if any, given the high rate of failure - make it to the end of the training.

And there's certainly no denying the power of the simplicity of seeing the joy on new owners' faces and prospective lives being changed just by having a dog get through this.

But Pick Of The Litter is very much a once-over-lightly kind of pleasantly presented doco, that lacks deep insight but gives cutesy cuddles - not a bad thing for the winter months, but certainly there's a nagging feeling that a stronger documentary definitely lies within, waiting to be coaxed to the surface.