The grandest day of the festival, that first Sunday lined up two of my top three films this year, Another Earth and The Troll Hunter. Yet, it was marred by the bitter regrets I entertained in regards to a certain ticket switch. Motivated primarily by intellectual laziness, the swap of my Bleak Night ticket for a A Lonely Place to Die entry left me perplexed about my own resolve. And while the girl at the box office assured me that I would make another film-goer happy, it didn't do much to wash off the feeling of guilt deriving from my betrayal of genre-less cinema. At some point, I did manage to rationalize it all, as I always do, halfheartedly convincing myself that Fantasia was meant for genre films and that I should be more psyched to see a prize-winning action film than a Korean drama. And while A Lonely Place to Die was fairly decent, it could hardly make me forget about the higher dramatic potential of the former film. Luckily for me, the day ended with a bang thanks to a fantastic joke topping a fantastic film. Seeing Norway's Prime Minister inadvertently revealing the existence of trolls was the cherry atop a delicious Scandinavian cake, and it left me laughing for days. That said, the next day's shift was that much lighter, giggling as I was inbetween the cardboard boxes and jumbled waybills of which my life is comprised.
(Irrelevant digression ahead) Those who have read my previous post about Day 1 will notice that I have re-used the same turn of phrase as I did before when mentioning how I manage to rationalize every single heartache I endure. Well, this got me thinking of a girl, whom I haven't thought about for a long time, a girl which might've made my life complete hadn't I been such a spineless jerk. That girl sat close to me in my Film History classes and we used to exchange some words inbetween lectures. I loved her looks, bookish but sexy, and her quirky antics. I remember that she used to draw during class and sometimes she would surprisingly turn around and look at me, as if she was drawing my portrait. At least, that is what my ego has always wanted to believe. At any rate, the end of the semester eventually came to be and I dearly wished to keep contact with her. So I tried to work up the courage to ask her out for a drink. I mean, it's not that hard. All I had to do was to take a casual tone, and mundanely ask if she wanted to do something sometime. A child could've done it. But unfortunately, I didn't have the self-confidence of a child. And so, you a have to picture this: a four-hour class comprised entirely of a arduous mental struggle between courageous resolve and crippling nervousness. "Should I, shouldn't I", I kept thinking as beads of sweat eventually started to form against my temples. The suspense built and built as I tried to devise the best, most enticing proposition I could muster, all the while thinking she would laugh at me and call me pathetic. I glanced sideways with increasing nervousness, both at the ticking clock on the (De Sève) theater wall and at the girl. I barely could hear the lecturer as myriads of questions were vying for the control of my soul. Should I, shouldn't I... Time is running out and I can't make a decision, unable to think of the one perfect approach not to have her make a mockery of me. When finally the bell rang, I ran off, not saying goodbye, not doing squat, but leaving for the familiar comfort of my parents' house.
To this day, I still wonder if I simply imagined a puzzled look on her face, or if it was really there, as a token of her surprise with my dashing retreat. What I do remember vividly is crossing the turnstile in the subway, rationalizing my cowardice by insisting on the many future, and highly hypothetical, romance opportunities I was to have in the remainder of my life. But there was a darker, more lucid part of me which reckoned that I had quite possibly ruined my very last chance at happiness. As time passes, I realize that this dark part of me might've been exactly right and that I may well have screwed up my last chance at happiness. And while I don't know the first thing about the girl's opinion of me, I tend to think for the worst and create an elaborate mythos around her in which I am but a lowly fly. Actually, the most distressing aspect of this story is the fact that I'll never, ever know whether I missed a good chance or not, and forever will feel like a loser for not even trying...
Emotional digressions aside, here is the account of a more joyous time in my life, my four-film adventure on Sunday, July 17th 2011:
(Irrelevant digression ahead) Those who have read my previous post about Day 1 will notice that I have re-used the same turn of phrase as I did before when mentioning how I manage to rationalize every single heartache I endure. Well, this got me thinking of a girl, whom I haven't thought about for a long time, a girl which might've made my life complete hadn't I been such a spineless jerk. That girl sat close to me in my Film History classes and we used to exchange some words inbetween lectures. I loved her looks, bookish but sexy, and her quirky antics. I remember that she used to draw during class and sometimes she would surprisingly turn around and look at me, as if she was drawing my portrait. At least, that is what my ego has always wanted to believe. At any rate, the end of the semester eventually came to be and I dearly wished to keep contact with her. So I tried to work up the courage to ask her out for a drink. I mean, it's not that hard. All I had to do was to take a casual tone, and mundanely ask if she wanted to do something sometime. A child could've done it. But unfortunately, I didn't have the self-confidence of a child. And so, you a have to picture this: a four-hour class comprised entirely of a arduous mental struggle between courageous resolve and crippling nervousness. "Should I, shouldn't I", I kept thinking as beads of sweat eventually started to form against my temples. The suspense built and built as I tried to devise the best, most enticing proposition I could muster, all the while thinking she would laugh at me and call me pathetic. I glanced sideways with increasing nervousness, both at the ticking clock on the (De Sève) theater wall and at the girl. I barely could hear the lecturer as myriads of questions were vying for the control of my soul. Should I, shouldn't I... Time is running out and I can't make a decision, unable to think of the one perfect approach not to have her make a mockery of me. When finally the bell rang, I ran off, not saying goodbye, not doing squat, but leaving for the familiar comfort of my parents' house.
To this day, I still wonder if I simply imagined a puzzled look on her face, or if it was really there, as a token of her surprise with my dashing retreat. What I do remember vividly is crossing the turnstile in the subway, rationalizing my cowardice by insisting on the many future, and highly hypothetical, romance opportunities I was to have in the remainder of my life. But there was a darker, more lucid part of me which reckoned that I had quite possibly ruined my very last chance at happiness. As time passes, I realize that this dark part of me might've been exactly right and that I may well have screwed up my last chance at happiness. And while I don't know the first thing about the girl's opinion of me, I tend to think for the worst and create an elaborate mythos around her in which I am but a lowly fly. Actually, the most distressing aspect of this story is the fact that I'll never, ever know whether I missed a good chance or not, and forever will feel like a loser for not even trying...
Emotional digressions aside, here is the account of a more joyous time in my life, my four-film adventure on Sunday, July 17th 2011:
FILMS SEEN
Ip Man: The Legend is Born
In this pointless reboot of the series, we witness the upbringing of legendary Wing Chun master, and Bruce Lee mentor, Ip Man. It's a shame that the producers of this third Ip Man film felt they had to depart from the episodic nature of the first two chapters, choosing instead to take an entirely formulaic approach to the biographical material at hand, showing us many irrelevant details of Man's life in the process.. Blessed with the great production values customary in such period pieces, the film does boast some well-choreographed action sequences, which are still a far cry from those in the previous Ip Man films. Add to that a sappy romance between Man and an obsessive noblewoman (whose father is played by a typically extravagant Lam Suet) and a very unsatisfying twist ending and you've got an underwhelming new entry in a stellar saga, one which will certainly have a harder time piercing the North American market. Seeing how Chinese actors are commissioned to play Japanese characters, one furthermore finds that Hong Kong's sense of realism is just as skin deep as Hollywood's. In the end, despite all its flaws, the film manages a thumbs up for being just entertaining enough.
THUMBS UP
Another Earth
A minuscule budget doesn't prevent this subtle, engrossing sci-fi film from soaring up high. Read full review here.
ENTHUSIASTIC THUMBS UP
A Lonely Place to Die
While I was promised exhilarating action sequences from this prize-winning British effort, those are kept mostly for the final few scenes in which several parties, each with its own shadowy agenda, collide into an orgy of exciting gunfights and primordial brawls for survival. The first part, while a little less exciting, does feature breathtaking photography of the gorgeous Scottish highlands, framed by a volatile, daredevil camera who closely follows as the characters rush through the jagged landscape. Unfortunately, it is really hard to buy the premise, which involves a pair of high-flying international kidnappers with a really over-complex M.O. Snatching rich kids from unsuspecting households the world over, they then proceed to entrap their prizes in buried boxes, one of which is unsuspectingly unearthed by the protagonists, who are soon entangled in an intrigue much bigger than themselves. This is all well and good, a little implausible perhaps, but acceptable as fiction. That is until the bullets start flying, all over the screen but in the large human targets. At some point, even I, who has to ability to suspend his disbelief indefinitely, was getting tired of seeing the two villainous sharp-shooters armed missing their targets over and over again so as to allow them to escape using a linear escape route. Not only are these endless shooting bits implausible, but they make for a somewhat tedious game of cat-and-mouse that lasts for the better part of the film. Fortunately, it all wraps up nicely with the appearance of a heavily-armed group of mercenaries hellbent on recapturing the captive girl liberated by the mountaineering protagonists. As the many characters in the narrative congregate in a festive little village, so too does the film find renewed vigor and an undeniable sense of purpose. So be sure to stick around for the tension-filled finale. As a parting note, I must add that Melissa George is quite sexy in her mountain-climbing attire, making for one visually-enticing heroine.
THUMBS UP
The Troll Hunter
This hilarious, cleverly crafted mockumentary manages to blend CGI animation with live-action cinematography almost seamlessly. The result is a surprisingly realistic fairy tale with razor-sharp wits that joyously pokes fun at incompetent authorities, conspiracy theorists and everyone who takes life too seriously. A prime example of Scandinavian genius at work.
ENTHUSIASTIC THUMBS UP
