Weekly round-up

>>Blind mountain climbers, DIY musicians,
a sorcerer monk, a deadly prodigy
and father-son dysfunction

by MALCOLM FRASER
and JEFFREY MALECKI

Blindsight

The newest documentary from Lucy Walker (The Devil’s Playground) tells a quite amazing tale: a group of blind Tibetan kids who undertake to climb Mount Everest. Accompanied by their teacher Sabriye Tenberken, who runs a school for the blind in Lhasa, Erik Weihenmayer, a blind mountain climber who’s reached the top of Everest among other famous peaks, and a team of guides, they set out on the seemingly quixotic quest, the odds against them about as high as their destination.

UPLIFTING: Blindsight

Aside from the novelty, utter uniqueness and inspiring nature of the core concept, the film faces a challenge with its rather basic subject. Walker admirably succeeds in exploring a lot of context in the kids’ stories. There’s the distressing prejudice against the blind in Tibet—the kids get called “morons” on the street, and some of their own parents blithely discuss their shame right in front of their hapless children. Then there’s the project’s internal politics; it soon transpires that some of the guides seem more interested in the glory of the climb than in the kids’ well-being, which leads to some heated debates.

All that said, the film could easily have been trimmed by half an hour (I would have personally started with the repeated close-ups of feet trudging up the mountain), and its structure and tone resemble a CBC news item more than a cinematic documentary. But the individual stories of the young climbers are touching, and there are some stunning images of the Himalayas to boot. (MF)

Le Cèdre penché

The debut feature from local director Rafaël Ouellet, who’s previously helmed a number of music videos and shorts, this drama finds two sisters (Viviane Audet and Marie Neige Chatelain) holed up together in a rural cottage, where they argue, walk around disaffectedly and occasionally strum guitars.

Ouellet was the editor of Denis Côté’s recent Nos vies privées, and at first, this seems to be a similar exercise: a DIY video project where two people hang around in the woods not doing much of anything. Eventually, a plot of sorts emerges: the girls’ mother was a recently deceased country singer, and they’re each trying to kick-start their own musical careers.

The no-budget video aesthetic has been around for a while now, so perhaps we should be used to it, but it’s better suited to some projects than others; a European-style mood piece like this would have been better served by shooting on film.

That said, Ouellet has a good eye and sense of pacing that elevates this beyond the amateurish vibe often conveyed by the rough, unvarnished look of video. He also had the good fortune, or good sense, of casting Audet and Chatelain, who both give compelling performances (and have the musical background to make their characters believable).

The narrative ambiguity, and Ouellet’s obvious fascination with the nuts-and-bolts details of songwriting and recording, may frustrate some viewers. But if you’re a patient viewer, the film’s unique feel and display of fresh talent make it an intriguing curiosity. (MF)

Milarepa

This is Buddhist monk Neten Chokling’s first feature, but his accomplishments allegedly stretch back into previous incarnations, most notably his role in reinvigorating Tibetan Buddhism in the late 19th century with Master Jamyang Khyentse Wangpo. Film is his current preferred medium for spreading the message, and Milarepa is a well-intentioned, though somewhat awkward attempt.

He takes on the legend of the tradition’s most famous yogi, sticking to his storied early life when, at his mother’s behest, he learns sorcery to avenge the squandering of his inheritance by his uncle.

The film’s highlights are the sweeping landscapes, all epic rockscapes and zephyr-swept plains. Himalaya, you are smokin’ hot. This beauty is compounded by the difficulties inherent in filming in rugged and ragged northern India, including topography, politics and possessed cameras. Divinations were preformed for all major decisions of this film, including when both cameras mysteriously malfunctioned in the second week of shooting.

There is thus a nice overall magical tone to the film. However, the scenes of explicit sorcery are sullied by primitive special effects and enter the film too suddenly; they could have been interwoven with more subtlety. And while the acting—from a cast largely comprised of monks—is tasteful and fitting, the narrative frequently clunks along with stilted momentum.

However, it’s hard to fault the film’s overall message of forgiveness, wisdom and compassion, especially given the lamentable political situation in the area, though the film, for better and/or worse, keeps any potential political message off the celluloid. (JM)

Four Minutes

In this German drama, a grumpy, elderly single woman (Monica Bleibtreu) teaches piano at a prison. She takes on a new student, Jenny (Hannah Herzsprung), a former musical prodigy imprisoned for murder, who has a nasty tendency to harm herself and others. As the student and teacher get to know each other, they each slowly emerge from the protective shells they’ve built up, while Bleibtreu fights off memories of long-ago love and betrayal during the Nazi era.

PRISON PIANIST:
Four Minutes

The two leads give very powerful performances, Bleibtreu a model of suppressed emotion and Herzsprung the opposite, a livewire of exploding violence and passion. Their character development makes the film’s theme of the healing, redemptive power of music feel very real, and Judith Kaufmann’s excellent cinematography creates a gripping atmosphere.

On the other hand, the film has a number of flaws for which writer/director Chris Kraus can’t be let off the hook. There are occasional detours into melodrama and cliché, and a number of weak subplots (Bleibtreu’s flashback story is underdeveloped to the point of borderline unnecessary). What’s more, the narrative is marred by a false ending followed by an over-the-top climax that stretches credulity.

Having said all that, it should be noted that the film was a multiple prize-winner in Germany (it won Best Picture and Best Actress for Bleibtreu at the German Film Awards, among others) and on the festival circuit. It does a lot of things right, and many of its missteps are shameless crowd-pleasers, so you may well find that it pleases you. (MF)

When Did You Last See Your Father?

Middlebrow hunk Colin Firth plays a writer struggling to settle his issues with his dying father (Jim Broadbent) in this British drama, based on a memoir by Blake Morrison.

As revealed in flashbacks, while growing up, the angst-ridden Firth never related to his boisterous dad, and always suspected him of having an affair with a family friend. As an adult, Firth sifts through his memories, trying to get up the nerve to confront his father and attain the ever-popular state of closure.

ADULT ANGST: When Did You Last See Your Father?

Director Anand Tucker (Shopgirl, Hilary and Jackie) treads with uncertainty between different emotional tones. Among the strongest scenes are those in which Firth and his mother (Gina McKee) care for the ailing Broadbent, but these unsentimental depictions are at odds with the film’s moments of heartstrings-tugging melodrama. Tucker also infuses a number of shots with fancy framing and mirroring devices à la Douglas Sirk, which look interesting but add little to the story.

Broadbent gives a very strong performance, and there’s a memorable turn from Elaine Cassidy as the family maid and love interest to Firth’s younger self. The main problem with the film is that it’s never really clear why Firth dislikes his father so much; as genially portrayed by Broadbent, he’s never more than amiably frustrating.

Firth, on the other hand, is mopey and uptight, making him less than likeable as a character. Perhaps he’s easier to identify with in the traditional English context of stiff-upper-lip emotional repression, but in our expulsive, confessional culture, it’s hard to relate. (MF)

All films open this
Friday, June 13

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