Simon’s MIFF ’13 Diary: Day Eight

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Considering yesterday’s drop in quality, my spirits were somewhat low when coming in to MIFF, especially with the wintry chill that ran down everyone’s spine. So I skipped the first two films because I wasn’t really interested, but mostly to see neglected loved ones that this festival seems to be temporarily stealing from me. Thankfully, the first two out of the three that I saw today were spectacular, with the last one being easily removed from my consciousness. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though, here’s what I saw:

Shopping (Dir. Mark Albiston & Louis Sutherland)

I almost didn’t see Shopping, the debut feature film from the collaborative efforts of New Zealand directors Mark Albiston and Louis Sutherland, and post-screening I’m entirely glad that I did. The premise is a familiar one, but like most films that tread proverbial territory, it’s all in the execution of the material as to whether the project will sink or swim. In most cases a familiar narrative transcends it’s echo by coming from a place of personal history, or at least an adaptation of an earnest moment, which seems exactly the case with Shopping. Based upon director Louis Sutherland’s own youthful experiences, the film takes place in 1980 and follows a young man named Willie who gets enticed by a local shoplifting outfit whilst in the midst of a fairly brutal falling out with his father. Willie also lives with his caring yet ineffectual mother and his younger brother Solomon, with whom he shares a protective bond, as Solomon seems unequipped to deal with the trauma that circulates in his home and the town. Willie and Solomon are half-Samoan, and much of the film relies on the undercurrent of tension that floats about the town, occasionally ending in vicious confrontations.

This racial violence gives Shopping a lurking sense of danger, and as Willie slowly falls in with this criminal crowd his presence becomes a locus of turmoil, with some of the members taking issue with him joining their not so merry band of thieves. There are also moments of physical violence that punctuate the experience, from the belt buckle wounds that line Willie’s arm or the knife fights that so immediately erupt at the seedy criminal parties Willie sometimes attends, the violence in Shopping is both extra and intra with each occupying a sense of real menace. Willie is seemingly a good soul, his mother frequently reminding him of his individuality and moral upstanding, but it’s easy to see how such a lifestyle might tempt him so, with the film makers expertly establishing the tension between his fleeing and returning to the nest. Like the flightless magpie that lives in the family’s home or the housefly that Solomon ties to a string, Willie seeks to escape but finds himself tethered to the people that need him most, a conflict that plays out to great dramatic effect. Shopping is one of those great snapshots of youth, a moment of spiritual calamity that sometimes needs a run with the devil to set things straight.

The Crash Reel (Dir. Lucy Walker)

I’d heard that snowboarding films are at the moment utilising some of the most interesting and complex visual wizardry in cinema today, which is why I booked in to see Lucy Walker’s crowd-pleasing film The Crash Reel. What I expected was a series of innovative images of snowboarding tricks set to a propulsive score. What I got however was something far removed from that and in my opinion, far better. The Crash Reel follows snowboarding wunderkind Kevin Pearce, a child prodigy in the field of riding the half pipe, Kevin rose to fame in the mid-2000s as one of the world’s premier snowboarding athletes, rivalled only by fellow double cork aficionado (it’s a snowboarding thing…) Shaun White. Just before the Vancouver Winter Olympics in 2009, Pearce had an earth shattering crash on a practice half pipe and suffered an immense traumatic brain injury (TBI). The film covers his journey from being crowned king of the half pipe, to his injury and then, remarkably, chronicles his recovery period with his family and friends.

This is where to film exceeds it’s simple snowboarding premise, as we are given an insight into this fragile rehabilitation and the impact that it has upon his loved ones. More courageous than Kevin catching 40 feet of air, the Pearce family display some of the most incredible moments in the entire film. They are the epitome of a support unit, and it is heart warming to witness their joy of Kevin’s recovery and their banding together, focusing their collective energies on his healing. It seems that the family have had similar troubles in the past, as Kevin’s older brother David was born with Down syndrome. David’s presence has obviously given the family a tight knit compassion for one another, and their bond is seemingly incommunicable. As Kevin begins on the path to rehabilitation, he begins to exclaim his desire to snowboard again, and after having just witnessed the pain and suffering it inflicted upon his family, the proposition is awkward to say the least. What results though is one of the most considered and responsible modes of dialogue I’ve seen in such a situation, with the family communicating their feelings in an incredibly warm and inviting environment. This gives the film the upper hand in comparison to the many blind sighted sporting films that declare a “love of the sport” above all rationale, something that I personally appreciated. The Crash Reel might not be the adrenaline pumping, half pipe worshipping snowboarding film you wanted, but don’t dismay, the experience of this film is far more exciting than any double McTwist (don’t ask).

Patrick (Dir. Mark Hartley)

Mark Hartley is a local Melbourne film maker whose fantastic Ozploitation documentary Not Quite Hollywood opened the Melbourne International Film Festival back in 2008. His debut narrative feature therefore is most appropriate, as he has decided to remake the Australian cult classic Patrick, originally a 1978 film about a comatose patient in a private hospital who has psychokinetic powers and uses them to entice (and abuse) a young female nurse. Hartley has provided himself with a more than capable cast, ranging from Charles Dance to Rachel Griffiths, who each deliver heightened and somewhat humorous performances. Having not seen the original film, it becomes difficult to contrast the two incarnations, but judged on it’s own terms, Hartley’s obviously affectionate remake fails to get a passing grade. Hartley obviously intended the film to be reminiscent of the schlocky relics of Ozpolitation cinema, a period in Australian film that saw genre film making rise to a prominent status. His Patrick indulges in a dramatic score from veteran composer Pino Donaggio and revels in an abundance of cheap thrills, melodrama and corny effects. Hartley stated before the screening that it had on it a first time narrative film director (himself), writer and cinematographer and unfortunately the film bears witness their premature efforts. The images are oftentimes a combination of ugly, dim lighting and poorly constructed special effects work. It feels like a first time production, and although it potentially may have some charm within that, it’s in-camera gothic properties often clash with it’s shimmering (and often cheap looking) digital special effects work. The pacing and choreography is clunky, and I often found myself slightly put off by the staging of the frames, which carried a graduate film school air about them. It’s difficult to stay mad at the film though as it seems like Hartley and co. have a lot of love to give and their affection for the original film doesn’t go unnoticed. However, the remake of Patrick unfortunately feels a bit comatose itself, and outside of some throwaway moments of humour (most of them unintentional), the film ends up a genre exercise that (slowly) drives off its own cliff, CGI teeth and all.