In this scene from Gaspar Noe’s film Love, Electra (Aomi Muyock) and her boyfriend Murphy (Karl Glusman) relax in their Paris apartment. New neighbour Omi (Klara Kristin) can be seen through the window.
“Well, that’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back.” It’s not a very original complaint (sorry!) but that’s what I was thinking, long before Love, the latest film from Gaspar Noé, was over. I wasn’t able to appreciate it. And it’s actually two hours and 14 minutes long, strictly speaking.
The film is called Love, but “Clueless Jerk,” might be a more apt title.
The main male character is an American in Paris named Murphy (Karl Glusman). His girlfriend, dark-haired Electra (Aomi Muyock), left him because he got another woman pregnant.
The film opens with Murphy and Electra having sex. Is that Murphy’s dream in the present day, or is that Noé telling us that they used to be a couple? Could be either, I guess. His phone rings and Murphy wakes up. He is in the same room (though it has different decor now) and the woman in the bed beside him is blonde. It’s New Year’s Day and the call is from Electra’s mother. She has not heard from her daughter for two or three months and she’s worried. Does Murphy know where she is?
There’s lots of voice over as we hear Murphy’s thoughts, which are not very interesting and (when it comes to the blonde, the mother of his child), quite rude and crude.
As the story unfolds we see that Murphy behaved very badly on many, many occasions. He wishes he could turn back time, though there’s no indication he would have behaved differently. In his mind, he declares his love for Electra, over and over. I was not convinced. Is he even serious about that, or is it just a story he’s telling himself, now that something bad might have happened to Electra, and she might be permantently out of his reach?
There are so many sex scenes in Love. I hear that you can see that kind of thing on the Internet, at home, for free. No need to go to the cinema! There isnt much laughter between this couple, though. What kind of relationship is that?
Love is in 3D, which added nothing to the experience for me, except for a scene where Murphy blows smoke rings, which was cool for a few seconds.
If you are already a Gaspar Noe fan, Love might be for you, especially since he will be in town to present the film.
LOVE, 134 Min, VOSTF
Written and directed by Gaspar Noé
Cast: Aomi Muyock, Karl Glusman, Klara Kristin, Juan Saavedra
Thursday, Oct. 8, 2015 at 8 p.m.
Concordia University, Alumni Auditorium (H-110), Hall Building, 1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W., Montréal, QC
Montrealers can see the important documentary film about climate change, This Changes Everything, at 7 p.m., on Monday, Oct. 5, 2015, at Concordia University (1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W., Room H-110) thanks to the organization Cinema Politica. Writer Naomi Klein and director Avi Lewis will be there. Suggested donation is $10 – $20. That’s probably all the information many of you will need. For others, I hope the review below will make you want to see it.
It’s all about the story – the story that we’ve been told, the story that we tell ourselves, the story that we believe. That story might be so firmly engrained in us that we never even think about it, or question it.
And that story is, that the Earth is a machine, and that mankind can and should manipulate its levers. The unfortunate results of that thinking can be seen all around us.
Changing the story is the first step toward changing our lives, our future and the life of this planet that we all depend upon.
After some opening shots of hurricanes, parched earth, polar bears and crumbling, tumbling ice bergs, This Changes Everything takes us to the ugly and monstrous tars sands of Fort McMurray, “the largest industrial project on Earth.” Would the citizens of any large city like Calgary, Edmonton, Vancouver, Toronto or Montreal accept such a huge and destructive project if it were in their own backyard? Somehow I doubt it. But the tar sands are far away and the local population is small. Later in the film, such a place is called a “sacrifice zone.”
One worker claims: “If not for the oil sands, there’d be nothing to come here for.” Then the camera shows us some stunning scenery – a majestic river flowing through a pine forest.It might be difficult for the average person to get up there, but many people would enjoy seeing it, or just knowing that such a place exists.
When we’re told that $150 to $200 billion would be invested there over the next decade, I couldn’t help but wonder what could be accomplished if that kind of money was spent on sustainable development instead.
The abuse of the English language and the twisted metaphors used by some of the people in this film – you have to hear them to believe them. I predict gasps, laughter, boos and hisses at various points during the screening of This Changes Everything.
One guy has the nerve to frame the tar sands project this way: “We’re cleaning up one of the largest oil spills on earth.” There are claims that the area will be brought back to its original state 20 years from now. Tailing ponds will be cleaned and, “you’ll be able to drink the water.” I’d really like to believe that, but I just can’t.
Meanwhile, the Beaver Lake Cree Nation has filed a court case to stop any further exploration, since the oil sands are under their traditional land and the present project has already done so much damage to their lives.
I won’t describe the whole film in detail, but I will say that it visits activists in Montana, New York state, India, Greece, China and Germany. People are standing up, complaining, saying “No!” to rampant development, demanding their rights and a new way of doing things.
While Klein does not present Germany as a perfect place, she produces some impressive statistics (30 per cent of Germany’s electricity comes from renewables, emissions are down, employment is up, etc.) Could Canada do the same? Especially if we can elect a new government in a few weeks?
Speaking of our country, as a Canadian, I’m embarrassed and distressed to see a Canadian mining company throwing its weight around in Greece, eager to get its corporate mitts on the gold there. My apologies to you, people of Halkidiki. And shame on you, mayor of Halkidiki, who dismissed the intimidation and arrests of protestors when he said: “the police don’t knock on doors without a reason; they don’t knock on yours or mine.”
This woman in Halkidiki, Greece, opposes a Canadian gold mine in her area.
This Changes Everything, the film, is a companion piece to Naomi Klein’s book This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate. They were created at the same time, the film is not based on the book.
I think it’s quite wise that the subhead, “Capitalism vs. the Climate” is not attached to the film – why alienate some of your potential audience right off the bat? As far as I can recall, the word “market,” as a synonym for capitalism, is not heard until 27 minutes into the film, and capitalism itself is not mentioned until 45 minutes in, when Greek activist Mary Christianou identifies it as the core problem. She’s initially reluctant to even say so on camera, because: “I don’t know if it helps the struggle.”
In reviewing the book, some writers suggest that “neo-liberalism” is more to blame for many of our present ills than capitalism alone. Abandoning the belief that all the resources of the Earth, the metals, the coal, the gas and the oil must be extracted, and that the Earth itself is just a machine that we can be trusted to run, seem like easier first steps on the path to change.
This screen grab from the documentary film This Changes Everything shows India buried under “Proposed Coal-Fired Power Plants.”
This Changes Everything will be shown on Monday, Oct. 5, 2015, 7 p.m., at
1455 de Maisonneuve West, Room H110, Concordia University, Montreal, QC.
Naomi Klein and Avi Lewis will be there for a Q&A session after the film.
Guy Maddin’s film My Winnipeg includes a weird tale about racehorses who were trapped in a river when they fled a stable fire. The horses remained there, frozen in place, until spring arrived. The frozen horses even became a local tourist attraction!
Montrealers! You can experience the wonderful film My Winnipeg this afternoon, for the first time or as a repeat visit, at the Cinémathèque Québécoise. And I strongly suggest that you do just that!
With My Winnipeg, director Guy Maddin made something that’s both very intriguing and very hard to classify. That’s par for the course with Maddin, though. (The first Maddin film I saw was Tales of the Gimli Hospital. So strange! I did not write about it at the time. Maybe some day.)
My Winnipeg combines elements of history, myth, fantasy, personal memoir and docu-drama. Even with that description, I’m probably leaving many things out, since it’s been a few years since I saw this 2007 film. Watching it was like being a guest in someone else’s fascinating, foggy dream. It was mesmerizing and occasionally hilarious, though Maddins delivery remains deadpan throughout.
Among the things I remember: Maddin talks about insomnia, his childhood home, a large network of secret alleyways that covers the city, without appearing on any maps, the brutally cold winter that saw race horses fleeing a burning barn only to die in the river, where they remained, frozen stiff, until spring came. Walking onto the ice to “visit” the horses became a popular thing to do.
Winnipeg is the capitol of Manitoba; Maddin takes us to the provincial legislature where he talks about Freemasons and examines the alleged symbolism and significance of the building’s architectural elements and the statue of the Golden Boy on the building’s dome.
In scenes set in Maddin’s childhood home (over a beauty parlour) elderly U.S. actress Ann Savage portrays his mother. Many early viewers thought that she WAS his mother. I believe that she won an award or two for her work. (I’ll try to verify that.)
Other things I remember: An old-fashioned looking map (like something from a film or TV show made back in the 1950s) showing Winnipeg as the centre of the world with various lines converging there, a visit with an astronomer, some kind of Nazi parade during World War II (it was part of a civil defence exercise, in case Canada was invaded by Germany).
My Winnipeg is a treat and it’s made by a Canadian, too. What’s not to like?
(Disclaimer: In the interest of speed, I have written this post based entirely on my memory of the film – except for the part about when it will be shown, the address of the Cinémathèque Québecoise, etc. After posting I’ll do some research and modify this post if necessary. And I’ll add some quotes from favourable reviews. I know they won’t be hard to find, because I’ve read them before.)
I’m back, with some review snippets. My Winnipeg has 119 reviews on imdb.com, though sadly, many of the links are broken, including the one to the review written by Al Kratina, my blogleague at the Montreal Gazette’s Cine Files. Tsk! Technology is not always our friend.
Esteemed film critic Roger Ebert liked My Winnipeg a lot. Here are some excerpts from his review: “If you love movies in the very sinews of your imagination, you should experience the work of Guy Maddin. . . If you hear of one opening, seize the day. Or search where obscure films can be found. You will be plunged into the mind of a man who thinks in the images of old silent films, disreputable documentaries, movies that never were, from eras beyond comprehension. His imagination frees the lurid possibilities of the banal. He rewrites history; when that fails, he creates it.”
“(1) Shot for shot, Maddin can be as surprising and delightful as any filmmaker has ever been, and (2) he is an acquired taste, but please, sir, may I have some more?”
Mark Kermode of The Observer says: “Fans of early David Lynch will find a kindred spirit in Maddin’s surreal monochrome vision, while his infatuation with the archaic mechanics of early cinema yields peculiarly modern dividends.”
“The narrative tone is sonorously ‘factual’, yet how much of this alternative history should we believe? . . .Is there really a surreptitious taxi trade serving backroads and alleyways that do not appear on any maps, crisscrossing the city over a maze of hidden rivers through which the true blood of the locals flows?”
Kermode’s final verdict? My Winnipeg is “poignant, truthful and hilarious.”
A.O. Scott of the New York Times says: “After seeing “My Winnipeg,” Guy Maddin’s odd and touching tribute to his hometown, I was tempted to do some further research.”
But . . .”Fact-checking “My Winnipeg” would be absurd, since the film, which combines archival documentary images with freshly shot, antique-looking passages, is more concerned with lyrical truth than with literal accuracy. And even though I suspect that some of its more outlandish assertions are at least partly grounded in fact, Mr. Maddin is engaged less in historical inquiry than in hallucinatory autobiography, ruminating on the deep and accidental relationship between a specific place and an individual life.”
As “My Winnipeg” conjures it, the bond between city and filmmaker is ambivalent and reciprocal. Much as he may dream of taking that one-way rail journey to somewhere else, Mr. Maddin can no more spurn Winnipeg than it can disown him.”
“. . . unleashing his eye and imagination on the prosaic, sad reality of an ordinary North American town, he proposes an alternative account that is mysterious, heroic and tragic. His Winnipeg is a place where ghosts commingle with regular citizens and may in fact be the true native spirits.”
See My Winnipeg (2007) 35 mm, directed by Guy Maddin, 80 minutes long, in the original English version, on Saturday, June 13, 2015 at 5 p.m., at the Cinémathèque Québécoise, 335 de Maisonneuve Blvd E., (metro Berri-UQAM)
You can watch a trailer for My Winnipeg on the Cinémathèque’s web site. That trailer is not bad, but the excerpt below, about the secret alleys, will give you a better idea of the mood of the film.
Just a warning about the Cinémathèque’s web site – the page for “Today at the Cinémathèque'” says that the 5 p.m. film is La nuit du rêveur. What? A change in schedule? I feared that I had written this post for nothing. But no, La nuit du rêveur is the French name of the film. This version does not have French subtitles, though. This screenings is part of a series called Les nuits du cinéma, which runs until June 20, 2015.
Tickets at the Cinémathèque Québécoise are $10 for adults, $9 for students and seniors. Admission is FREE for those 16 years old and younger. How great is that?
This Thief of Bagdad image is from the Facebook page created by Le Cinclub de Montral / The Film Society.
Douglas Fairbanks! His name, along with Errol Flynn’s, was once synonymous with swashbuckling adventure and derring do, and for some people, it still is.
See what the fuss was about when Le Cinéclub de Montréal / The Film Society presents The Thief of Bagdad on Saturday, May 30, 2015.
The Thief of Bagdad, which was made in 1924, is a silent film, but that just means that you won’t hear the actors speak. The evening itself will not be silent, far from it. Guillaume Martineau (piano) Joannie Labelle (percussion) and Jean-Sebastien Leblanc (clarinet) will provide lively musical accompaniment. (That’s one more person than the Cinémathèque Québécoise had on hand when it showed the film in 2013.)
The sets of The Thief of Bagdad are elaborate and luxurious.
The Thief of Bagdad appears on the “must-see” lists of many critics. The fairy-tale adventure was directed by Raoul Walsh and features sumptuous costumes by Mitchell Leisen, large, lavish sets by William Cameron Menzies, and genies, giant jars, magic baskets, flying carpets and other special effects, along with the proverbial “cast of thousands.” The $2-million budget was quite extraordinary for the time.
“Ah ha! Treasure!” Douglas Fairbanks as the thief, in The Thief of Bagdad, a silent film from 1924.
Douglas Fairbanks plays Ahmed, the thief of the title, who decides to go big and steal a princess, the daughter of the Caliph of Bagdad. But through one thing and another, he ends up in one of those competitions so common in myths, legends and fairy tales where a suitor has to prove his worth by doing, discovering, or defeating, some thing or someone.
Fairbanks is incredibly acrobatic, with lots of leaping, swinging, and climbing; he’s usually smiling, and he’s often shirtless, too. (Fairbanks was also the producer, and one of the screenwriters of The Thief of Bagdad.)
The princess is played by Julanne Johnston, whose name is not well known today. The better known Anna May Wong is listed as the “Mongol slave” of the princess, though she was actually more of a (scantily-clad) spy. In a different era she might have been given bigger and better roles.
Anna May Wong in The Thief of Bagdad.
Here are excerpts from some reviews of The Thief of Bagdad: Kim Newman, Empire Magazine: “Grinning impishly, (Fairbanks) has an energetic magnetism that few stars have since managed to recapture, every set-piece designed to showcase his swashbuckling prowess. Silent cinema at its most magical.”
The New York Times: “. . . Fairbanks. . .essentially invented the American action star, with his combination of easy athleticism, can-do optimism and self-deprecating humour. By the time of “The Thief of Bagdad” he had moved from modern dress to costume roles (“The Mark of Zorro,” “Robin Hood”) and into the particular timelessness of the superstar, standing at the centre of his own universe. . . ”
“The film’s extraordinary production design — located somewhere between the swoony Art Nouveau curves of Aubrey Beardsley and the robust literary illustrations of N. C. Wyeth — is the first major work of William Cameron Menzies, a brilliant jack-of-all-trades who would leave his mark on movies from “Gone With the Wind”. . .to the low-budget nightmare “Invaders from Mars.”
“Using a panoply of optical and mechanical effects Fairbanks leads the viewer through a range of magical worlds. Most memorably there is an undersea kingdom, where the chandeliers. . . are giant jellyfish composed of Venetian glass.”
From an unsigned review in TV Guide: “Forty-year-old Douglas Fairbanks was at his peak when he released the film in 1924. Stripped to the waist virtually throughout, Fairbanks displays the physique of a 20-year-old gymnast and the exuberance of a person even younger. His daringly, beautifully florid performance is grounded less in dramatics than in dance. . .and acrobatics. . . Fairbanks’s kinetic performance is saved from pretentious posturing by his enormous likability, effervescence, and predisposition to self-mockery.” The Thief of Badgad, Saturday, May 30, 2015, at 7:30 p.m. (doors open at 7.)
United Church 4695 de Maisonneuve W. (Vendôme Metro)
Tickets at the door, cash only, are $13, $9 (for students and those 65, and over, with ID).
Or buy your tickets online at lavitrine.com
INFO LINE: 514-738-FILM
The film is approximately two hours long. Coffee, tea, beer, popcorn, and sweet treats will be on sale before the film and at the intermission.
A still life by Tove Jansson, from the documentary film Escape From Moominville.
No need to be a Tove Jansson fan, or to know anything about her to enjoy Escape From Moomin Valley, it’s such a visual pleasure.
Tove Jansson (1914-2001) a member of Finland’s Swedish minority, achieved fame and presumably, fortune, through Moomins, creatures of her own invention who look vaguely like upright hippos. Moomins appeared in children’s books and a long-running comic strip; they are available as figurines, plush toys and printed on assorted bags, mugs, aprons, pencil cases, notebooks, etc. (Local publisher Drawn & Quarterly printed a large volume of her work in 2006.)
Artist and author Tove Jansson as a young adult, from the documentary film Escape From Moominville.
Jansson wrote short stories for adults and plays, as well, but she always considered herself a painter first and foremost. That’s what she wrote on her tax return, according to Escape From Moomin Valley.
Jansson came from an arty family; her father was a sculptor, her mother a graphic artist. She was expected to be an artist and a good one, too.
The film uses lots of photos, sketches, paintings and extracts read from Jansson’s letters and diaries to fill us in on her family life (she often argued with her father) her friends, her art classes and her travels. She studied in Stockholm and Paris, and visited Dresden, Brittany and Florence. Probably many other places, too. She was a forceful character and her art is wonderful to look at. Her studio is quite impressive, too. You might be jealous!
A still life by Tove Jansson, from the documentary film Escape From Moominville.
Jansson speaks briefly in the film and there are many remarks from her brothers, niece, and childhood friends.
Escape From Moominvalley is being shown as part of a double bill with the 55-minute film J.R.R. Tolkien: des mots, des mondes. A review of that is coming up! There’s a connection, too – while I don’t remember it in Escape From Moominvalley, Jansson illustrated a Swedish edition of The Hobbit.
Sunday, March 29, 2015, 1:30 pm, J.A. de Sève Theatre, McConnell Library Building, Concordia University, 1400 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W.
Escape From Moominvalley
Finland, Denmark, Sweden / 2014 / Color / 58 Min / Finnish S.T. English
A still life by Tove Jansson, from the documentary film Escape From Moominville.
Escape From Moominvalley
Realisation: Charlotte Airas
Script: Charlotte Airas, Kimmo Kohtamäki
Cinematography: Timo Peltonen
Sound: Pietari Koskinen
Editing: Kimmo Kohtamäki
Music: Pessi Levanto
Narration: Ylva Ekblad
Participation(s): Sophia Jansson, Per Olof Jansson, Boel Westin, Erik Kruskopf, Boris Konickoff, Tuula Karjalainen
Producer(s): Kaarle Aho
Production: Making Movies
Distribution: Making Movies
The Festival International du Film sur l’Art, known as FIFA, runs until Sunday, March 29, 2015. Visit the web site www.artfifa.com for more information
Image from the documentary film Donald Duck Ð Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous, which is being shown in Montreal at FIFA, the Festival International du Film sur l’Art.
Ninety minutes devoted to Walt Disney’s film and comic book character Donald Duck? Yessireebob!
In truth, Donald Duck – Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous, is more like two films, awkwardly cobbled together. For about the first 30 minutes, it’s all about The Donald. Apparently, he is really big in Europe. Every week, to this very day, in some European countries, one person in four reads about Donald Duck. Who knew?
Asssorted people from France, Germany and Scandinavia talk about their first encounter with the cranky fowl and what he means to them.
After World War II, Donald Duck was part of an effort to de-Nazify German children. In translating the comics into German Erika Fuchs made them more literary, witty and thoughtful than the originals.
Gottfried Helnwein of Germany is one of the many artists who appears in the documentary film Donald Duck Ð Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous, which is being shown in Montreal at FIFA, the Festival International du Film sur l’Art.
Donald Duck fans (Donaldistes in French, if I heard correctly) have yearly conferences where they present serious papers about him.
Among the statements made by assorted talking heads: Donald Duck is never satisfied, he always wants more. He wants fame and recognition. He is ordinary, naive, but not an idiot. We can all identify with him; he can be a clown, evil or generous. He never wins, but he never gives up. Okay then.
Then, the film turns to winners and losers and success, with segments about the Razzie Awards (it’s a rather long segment), the Funny or Die comedy-video website, life coaches, the tradition of the village idiot, and an excerpt from the German version of the TV show The Office. To be honest, this second part was not that interesting for me.
Donald Duck – always full of big dreams! Image from the documentary film Donald Duck Ð Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous, which is being shown in Montreal at FIFA, the Festival International du Film sur l’Art.
Pet peeve: This film is made for French audience. When anyone is speaking a language other than French, a translator talks on top of them. No subtitles. Two people talking at once. Annoying in the extreme. There should be a law, I say! Donald Duck – Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous (Germany / 2014 / Color / 90 Min / French, English, German with French translation), Friday, March 27, 2015 at 6:30 pm at the Cinematheque Québecoise, 335 de Maisonneuve Blvd. E,
Donald Duck – Le Vilain Petit Canard En Nous
Realisation: Edda Baumann-Von Broen
Script: Edda Baumann-von Broen
Cinematography: Edda Baumann-von Broen
Participation(s): Jean-Pierre Dionnet, Gottfried Helnwein, Øyvind Holen
Producer(s): Hasko Baumann
Production: Avanti Media Plus
Distribution: Avanti Media Plus
The Festival International du Film sur l’Art, known as FIFA, runs until Sunday, March 29, 2015. Visit the web site www.artfifa.com for more information.
Caricature of painter Gustave Courbet from the documentary film Les Petits Secrets Des Grands Tableaux – Courbet, L’atelier Du Peintre
French painter Gustave Courbet (1819-1877) was admired by some and mocked by others. He was self taught, which earned him the scorn of academicians. He hobnobbed with the rich and powerful though he sided with workers and disadvantaged.
The 26 minute film takes a quick look at Courbet’s life and works before turning to his large and crowded work with the long name – The Painter’s Studio: A Real Allegory of a Seven Year Phase in my Artistic and Moral Life.
The Painter’s Studio: A Real Allegory of a Seven Year Phase in my Artistic and Moral Life, by Gustave Courbet.
Courbet created it for a salon at the 1855 Paris World Fair (or Exposition Universelle des produits de l’Agriculture, de l’Industrie et des Beaux-Arts de Paris 1855 to give its full name). The jury refused to accept this painting, though eleven of his other works were shown. (These days, the painting hangs in the Musée d’Orsay.)
In examining the many possible reasons for this refusal, the filmmakers tell us about the many styles that appear in the painting – portraits, still life, history painting – and the people in it, who include George Sand, Charles Baudelaire, Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, and the Emperor Napoleon III himself. He had been elected president of France but later staged a coup d’etat and declared himself emperor. In the painting he is portrayed as a hunter wearing tall leather boots. Censorship was so strong at this time that the mere mention of “boots” could result in a prison sentence.
This film is filled with a wealth of detail and historical information.
Les Petits Secrets Des Grands Tableaux – Courbet, L’atelier Du Peintre
France / 2014 / Color / 26 Min / French
Realisation: Clément Cogitore
Script: Thomas Cheysson, Elisabeth Couturier
Editing: Erwann Chabot, Julien Ngo Trong
Music: Roque Rivas
Narration: Clémentine Célarié
Producer(s): Sophie Goupil, Daniel Khamdamov
Production: Les Poissons Volants, ARTE France, Les petits secrets des grands tableaux
Distribution: ARTE France
The Festival International du Film sur l’Art, known as FIFA, runs until Sunday, March 29, 2015. Visit the web site www.artfifa.com for more information.
Crime novelist Ian Rankin looks at the city of Edinburgh.
Popular Scottish crime novelist Ian Rankin shares stories about his early days, (he wrote 16 books before he had a bestseller – such persistence!) talks about his creation police inspector John Rebus and takes us on a tour of “hidden Edinburgh” where there are “always new crime scenes to be discovered.” He says Edinburgh has all of the amenities of a large city while being conveniently compact. And it’s really the main character of his books, more than Rebus himself.
Tiny wooden dolls inisde tiny wooden coffins might be connected to notorious Edinburgh grave robbers and murderers Burke and Hare.
This tour includes a visit to an underground street, several graveyards, the Scottish Parliament, tales of cannibalism and bodysnatchers, the murderers Burke and Hare, the continuing mystery of 17 tiny coffins that date back to the 1830s, and the story of Deacon Brodie, the Edinburgh city councillor and cabinet-maker who was the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. (Stevenson set his story in London, though.) Sherlock Holmes author Arthur Conon Doyle was from Edinburgh, too, and he also set most of his stories in London.
Rankin reveals that in the first few Rebus books he set events in unnamed, fictional streets. Later he decided he might as well use real places, so he had Rebus working in a real police station, drinking in real pubs and living in the neighbourhood Rankin had lived in while attending university.
“That was my bedroom window,” says writer Ian Rankin, pointing at the apartment he lived in during his student days. He decided that his character, police inspector John Rebus, would live across the street.
Actor and historian Colin Brown runs Rebustours.com, which gives tourists a chance to visit the places mentioned in Rankin’s books. He mugs a bit while reading passages from the books. Rankin himself tags along with Brown for a while. Did the tourists even recognize him? I wasn’t certain. But I was sold on the attractions of Ediburgh. I’d be willing to check it out!
Wednesday, March 25, 2015, 6:30 p.m., at Grande Bibliothèque de BAnQ – Auditorium, 475 de Maisonneuve Blvd E.
Ian Rankin – My Edinburgh, Austria / 2013 / Color / 44 Min / English
Realisation: Günter Schilhan
Script: Günter Schilhan
Cinematography: Erhard Seidl
Sound: Albrecht Klinger
Editing: Günter Schilhan, Raimund Sivetz
Music: Franz Sommer
Narration: August Schmölzer, Stefan Suske, Günter Schilhan
Participation(s): Ian Rankin
Producer(s): Rosemarie Prasek
Production: ORF, 3sat
Distribution: 3sat
This entrance to the Louvre Museum in Paris was named after Jacques Jaujard, the man who saved the museum’s art from destruction during World War II.
The Man Who Saved the Louvre is the intriguing story of Jacques Jaujard. In the late 1930s, with war in Europe looking more and more likely, Jaujard, director of the French National Museums, drew up an elaborate evacuation plan, to keep the country’s cultural heritage safe from bombs and Nazi art collectors, from Hitler on down. This was his own idea, no one asked him to do it.
Near the end of August 1939, 4,000 works of art were packed into crates, ready to be sent to châteaux in the countryside. Art from the Louvre included the Mona Lisa and the sculptures the Winged Victory of Samothrace and the Venus de Milo.
During World War II the art treasures of the Louvre were dispersed to a number of chateaux for safekeeping.
While many paintings were removed from their frames and rolled up, others were too delicate for that treatment. Géricault’s huge Raft of the Medusa was loaded onto an open truck, protected only by a tarpaulin. The painting was so large (five metres high, seven metres wide) that it knocked down power lines.
Museum staff members looked after the art works in their temporary homes throughout the war. They protected them from heat, cold and humidity, practiced fire drills every day, and wrote LOUVRE in big letters on the lawns of the châteaux to alert any Allied bombers to the treasures. Some items were moved as many as five times before the war was over.
Warnings were placed on the ground to alert Allied bombers to the presence of art treasures.
Intrigue and a love interest is provided by one of Jaujard’s contacts in the French Resistance. The agent with the codename “Mozart,” turns out to be a glamourous former actress.
The film uses photos, archival footage, Jaujard’s notebooks and testimony from witnesses to tell the story. An animated version of Jaujard makes the occasional appearance as well.
The Man Who Saved the Louvre is presented in a more engaging way than another FIFA selection about art during World War II, the Austrian film Hitler’s Mountain Of Stolen Art. That film, which will also be shown on Wednesday, March 25 (at 6:30 p.m.) looks at a treasure trove of stolen art that was stashed in a salt mine in Altaussee, Austria.
Once he realized that he was losing the war, Hitler gave orders to blow up the mine and the art with it. His order was not carried out, and the filmmakers look at a number of candidates in an effort to figure out try to find out who saved the art. The film just seems to go around in circles and has far too many interviews where the translation is spoken and not given via subtitles.
The Man Who Saved the Louvre
France / 2014 / Color, B & W / 60 min / English with French subtitles, part of a double bill with:
Grandeur des petits musées
France / 2014 / Color / 47 min, / in French
Wednesday, March 25, 2015, at 4 p.m., at the Maxwell Cummings Auditorium, Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, 1379 Sherbrooke St. W.
The Festival International du Film sur l’Art, known as FIFA, runs until Sunday, March 29, 2015. Visit the web site www.artfifa.com for more information.
Image from the Russian documentary film Children 404
Countries are often called Motherland or Fatherland. How sad is it when a country can’t love and accept all of her children equally? How sad is it when flesh-and-blood parents turn their backs on their own children and say things like: “You are not normal, you are sick, why did I ever give birth to you?” Or worse yet: “You are a son of Satan!”
The documentary film Children 404 presents compelling evidence that homophobia is rampant in Russia, and that a law passed in 2013 has encouraged anti-gay vigilantes while also keeping many already wary and isolated teens in the closet.
This law bans propaganda about “non-traditional sexual relationships,” aimed at minors. In effect, that means that it’s illegal to offer support to gay teens – to tell them that they are normal, that they are not freaks of nature, and that they are “not the only one” – that there are many other people around the world just like them.
The film is named for the web site Children 404 (Deti-404 in Russian) which serves as an online meeting place for teens who might not have anywhere else to go. It was created by journalist Elena Kilmova; after she wrote an article about LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender) youth, she received email from a teen who had been suicidal until she read the article.
The name is inspired by “Error 404, page not found” a message that often comes up on the Internet. Klimova chose it because Russian society is seemingly telling gay teens that they don’t even exist. It gives then a chance to say “We are here!”
More than 22,000 joined the group; 1,364 shared their stories.The film features excerpts from the messages posted on the site. Many are heart-rending, filled with sadness and despair. One mocks the idea that anyone would possibly “choose” to be gay. “Hey kids, be gays! Everyone hates us, humiliates us, beats us up – this is so cool!”
Few teens dare to tell their parents about their orientation, for fear of being thrown out of the house. The father who accepts his daughter and is proud that she is different is a rare exception.
A Guardian article about Error 404 quotes a “16-year-old from a small town ‘which isn’t even on the map’.” He says “Our school is considered progressive, but it is quite normal for teachers to say that homosexuals will burn in hell.”
Another Guardian article from 2013 says that “an MP in the Siberian region of Zabaikalsk called for a law allowing gays to be publicly flogged by Cossacks.”
Elena Klimova was 25 when the film was made. She doesn’t look much older than a teenager herself, which is remarkable considering the stress she must have been under for years. She reveals that she and her partner lost their jobs because of their orientation. They were both told to resign. Almost all the same-sex couples she knows want to leave Russia, but she does not want to go. She looks forward to a future when the present-day situation will be described as the “stone age,” and she hopes that it won’t take decades to arrive.
Klimova has been taken to court twice over the web site, in the most recent case, she was fined 50,000 rubles, approximately $740 U.S. An online notice from Amnesty International, dated March 18, 2015, says the the “Prosecutor’s Office in one of St Petersburg’s districts had submitted a request to have the Children 404 group. . .closed down.” Readers are urged to support Klimova by writing to Russian officials in protest.
Elena Klimova, founder of the Russian web site Children 404, which gives gay teens a place to express themselves and seek advice and support.
Forty-five members of Error 404 participated in the filmmaking, with some sharing footage shot on their cellphones. But an articulate young man named Pasha receives the most screen time. When he visits his former school, the presence of a cameraman doesn’t stop students from yelling insults and throwing things at him. What do they do when they aren’t being recorded?
Pasha says that one of his teachers had said that gay people “should be burned and banished,” and that the school social worker and psychologist told him he was the one with a problem, because he couldn’t accept homophobes. “If you find love for them, they will find love for you,” they said. As if.
Rather than follow their surreal advice, Pasha’s solution is to move to Canada, home of his idol, Justin Bieber(!) He says “I am convinced that after seven years I will have a family, small kids and a house.” He also says that he plans to study journalism and possibly enter politics. He’s obviously a strong, smart and very determined guy, though I wonder if he has checked the price of Toronto real estate lately, or the sorry employment prospects for journalists in North America. All the same, I wish him the very best in his life here.
I have a suggestion, too. There’s a scene at a memorial to Lenin where Pasha sings a slightly fractured version of O, Canada. It sounds like he’s singing “We stand on guard for free.” Once he learns all the words, why not invite him to sing the anthem at some public event?
Pasha Romanov visits a friend before leaving Russia for Canada, in a scene from the Russian documentary Children 404. (Romanov now calls himself Justin, in honour of Justin Bieber.)
The web site Queer Russia says that vigilantes and policemen with machine guns tried to disrupt the premiere of Children 404 in Moscow last year. Police “checked the IDs of the audience, looking for minors and writing down passport data of some people.”
I’ve been asked to include this information: “Cinema Politica is presenting the Quebec premiere screening of CHILDREN 404 on Monday, March 23, 2015. Directors Askold Kurov and Pavel Loparev will be in attendance all the way from Russia for a Q&A after the screening! The event is co-presented with Radical Queer Semaine, Concordia Documentary Centre, Simone de Beauvoir Institute, and Queer Concordia. More information can be found about Children 404 here:
While I wasn’t asked to share this info, I am happy to tell you that Cinema Politica was instrumental in getting the film made. The CP web site says “Cinema Politica co-founders Svetla Turnin and Ezra Winton, along with CP Board Member and Concordia University Research Chair in Sexual Representation and in Documentary Thomas Waugh and his colleague Ryan Conrad, launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise essential funds for this project. We eventually surpassed our goal and were able to raise $11,575 U.S. towards the making of CHILDREN 404!” The film’s credits says that all the money usedto make it came from crowdfunding. You might notice that some names appear several times, too. CHILDREN 404
Directed by Askold Kurov and Pavel Loparev / Russia / 2014 / 70 ‘ / Russian / English subtitles
Monday, March 23, 2015, 7 p.m.
Concordia University, 1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd., W., Room H-110
Montreal, Quebec
Canada
Directors Askold Kurov and Pavel Loparev will be there. (I predict that the first question they’re asked will be “What can we do to help?”)
Suggested admission is $5 to $10.
Mostlymovies.ca 