Tag: international film

REVIEW: Shoebox

Ella Larsen Leave a comment

7:15pm • Wednesday, Oct. 18, 2023 • State Theater

Shoebox was a thought-provoking film that stood out for its deliberate and introspective approach to storytelling, coupled with cinematography that beautifully captured a city in transition. The story, which took place in Allahabad on the cusp of its renaming, followed Mampu as she watched her father struggle to maintain his deteriorating movie palace in the midst of a health crisis. The narrative drew me slowly and quietly into a world where local politics intersected tragically with personal daily struggles.

One of the standout features of Shoebox was its cinematography. The film took its time, offering long, meditative shots of a city in the midst of transformation. These visuals provided a vivid backdrop to the characters’ lives, showcasing the beauty and decay of the urban landscape. Allahabad itself became a character in the film, reflecting the societal shifts and economic challenges faced by its inhabitants. Each frame was a work of art, and the cinematographer’s mastery was evident in every scene.

For me, the most meaningful aspect of the film was its understated portrayal of Mampu’s struggles to care for her father against a backdrop of corrupt politics. The characters’ daily lives were punctuated by the effects of political decisions made far beyond their reach. The powerlessness of the family was palpable, and their attempts to navigate a system riddled with corruption were both poignant and frustrating. Mampu’s experience reflected that of many who had to choose between protesting the injustices dealt to them and protecting themselves and those they cared for.

One of the most impactful moments in the film occurred during a simple yet profound scene involving a pack of cigarettes. This moment of intimacy between Mampu and her father became a lens through which the family’s dynamics were clarified. It revealed the unspoken connections and tensions that existed within the household, adding depth to their characters and relationships. This subtlety in storytelling was another of the film’s great strengths, showcasing the actors’ ability to convey emotions without the need for grandiose displays of drama.

In conclusion, Shoebox was a mesmerizing and quietly powerful film that invited viewers to contemplate the intersection of personal and political challenges. Its deliberate pacing and exquisite cinematography created a sense of immersion in a world where beauty and decay coexisted. The film’s understated storytelling style allowed the audience to connect deeply with the characters. Shoebox was a masterclass in subtlety and a testament to the impact of quiet moments in cinema. It was a poignant exploration of the human spirit in the face of daunting challenges, leaving a lasting impression long after the credits rolled.

REVIEW: Simona

Ella Larsen Leave a comment

2:40 pm • Saturday, November 5, 2022 • State Theater

Simona was a lovely and in-depth documentary exploring the life of Simona Kossak and the marks she left on family, friends, and the broader Polish environmentalist community. A biologist and environmental activist who spent most of her life secluded in the Białowieża* Forest, one of Europe’s last old-growth wildernesses, Kossak’s story is told through conversations among family members, friends, and former colleagues, accompanied by archival photos taken by her life partner, Lech Wilczek.

I appreciated the candidness with which most of the interviewees discussed Kossak’s life. In particular, the ongoing conversation between Ida Matysek (the film’s main narrator) and her mother, Kossak’s niece, created an overarching narrative for the film that focused more on Kossak’s personal relationships with her family than her scientific career or activism. By balancing this narrative with insights from Kossak’s professional acquaintances and friends, not only did I gain a holistic understanding of how Kossak engaged with the world around her, but I learned about the dark as well as light sides of her history.

One of my favorite themes throughout the film was Kossak’s emotional connection with the animals in her care, which the film often  represented as intensely maternal. I came to understand that history would be remiss to say Kossak had no children–the devotion she demonstrated for the animals she raised was no less than that of a mother for a human child. In one heartbreaking story, Kossak raised a lynx she named Agata, who was killed in an domestic accident when Kossak’s partner, Lech Wilczek, lost his balance and dropped a bundle of firewood on top of her. Kossak canceled all engagements and grieved for months, and the incident also strained her relationship with Wilczek as if they had experienced the loss of a child.

Photo by Lech Wilczek; from Opowieść o Niezwyczajny Życiu Simony Kossak by Anna Kamińska, published by Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow 2015.

I am left with questions about Kossak’s affection for animals as compared with her love for the forest at large. As a biologist, her interest was in animal behavior, and in her activism much of her work dealt with preserving the diversity of animal species existing in the Białowieża Forest. I am curious about whether she was equally devoted to the conservation of plant life in the forest. One of the stories included in the film was about her efforts to save dying chestnut trees around the school where she worked, but the film framed these efforts more based on her partiality to the trees for sentimental reasons than for environmental reasons. Much of my reading on the subject of forestry and conservation lately has dealt with the importance of trees in global ecosystems, and I know research on the social relationships between trees is gaining more traction in the scientific community as of late. I wish I could hear Kossak’s take on these issues, and see how she would engage in activism against the accelerating deforestation of her beloved Białowieża Forest today. If I can ever find English editions, I hope to add her books about the forest and her experiences there to my shelf.

 

*pronounced bee-ah-wo-vee-EDGE-ah

PREVIEW: Czarna owca (Black Sheep)

Ella Larsen Leave a comment

What: a Polish comedy/drama film, brought to Ann Arbor by this weekend’s annual Polish Film Festival

When: Saturday, November 5, 9:00pm

Where: State Theater

Tickets: available on the State Theater website, $9.25 for students

Czarna owca, or Black Sheep, is a Polish drama and comedy about a family falling apart at the seams. Magda and Arek have had a successful marriage of 25 years, and are now living with their adult son, Tomek, and his girlfriend Asia, while taking care of their aging father. However, a series of secrets and revelations soon cause chaos, prompting each character to confront their own closely-held desires and fears, while finding ways to mend the tears ripping apart their family. At least, that’s as much as I could find out from the few online synopses available for this film in English. Much of the plotline remains a mystery to me, and I look forward to discovering this family’s secrets alongside the characters this Saturday night.

PREVIEW: Simona

Ella Larsen Leave a comment

What: a Polish documentary film brought to Ann Arbor by this weekend’s annual Polish Film Festival

When: Saturday, November 5, 2:40pm

Where: State Theater

Tickets: free with reservation on the State Theater website [click here]

Simona is a documentary about the life of Simona Kossak, a Polish scientist and environmental activist. Based on what little I could discern from Google-translated Polish film reviews, Kossak, who was descended from a long line of famous Polish painters, was rejected by her family and chose to seclude herself in Poland’s primeval Białowieża Forest for the greater part of her life. There, she studied animal behavior and advocated for the preservation of the forest’s natural environment. The film explores Kossak’s eccentric life through the lens of her great niece, Ida Matysek, using photographs taken of Kossak by her life partner, Lech Wilczek. I hope the English subtitles for the film do Kossak’s inspiring story justice, and I look forward to learning about what seems like a magical life spent in one of the world’s oldest–and most threatened–forest environments.

 

REVIEW: Compartment No. 6

Angela Gosselin Leave a comment

Compartment No. 6, a film by Finnish director Juho Kuosmanen was the kind of film that really makes you forget you’re sitting in a theater. The majority of the film consists of two travelers sharing a cabin on a sleeper train, heading from Moscow to Murmansk, Russia. Laura is a Finnish academic coping with the inevitable dissolution of her relationship while Lyokha is a Russian working-class man headed to make some money in the mines at their destination. Laura is conversely headed to see a set of petroglyphs as a historic endeavor, a trip that her sort-of-but-not-quite ex-partner dropped out from.

 

It feels a little tired to follow the arc of “they can’t stand each other” to “they have a snow ball fight, giggling and red-nosed,” but there’s a sense of sincerity to this film that is impossible to shake. This could very well be due to the fact that I’m not familiar with Eastern European culture and the lived realities of these places, but the setting felt as though it was constructed with a careful and affectionate eye.

 

The train as a center of activity and plot development was fantastic. In such a small space there seems to be an entire world constructed, as the two characters venture throughout various locations within the train. This kind of claustrophobia also lends itself to an accelerated intimacy, both in terms of the visual framing of the characters and the actual plot.

 

I’m still trying to decide how I feel about the ending of this film. I suppose I really mean the final act, as I’m wondering if it was entirely necessary. This section leaves the train and thus shifts contexts in a way that, yes, wraps everything up, but doesn’t quite align with the rhythm of the rest of the film. I think I also would have liked more ambiguity to the way their relationship ends, but at the same time I can’t be mad that this part of the movie finished the story off in a satisfying and sweet way.

 

At the end of the day, though, this film consists of every beat you hope to hit when travelling: interesting and frequent new characters, a feeling of imminent change, and an understanding that everything is so bittersweetly temporary. This movie is well worth a watch, and is sure to remain in viewers’ minds as we all wait for our next train to catch.

REVIEW: You Will Die At 20

Emma Pinchak Leave a comment

Recently I’ve been thinking more about mortality; I guess I’m not old, but everything these days feels like a crossroads. They are each so definite, a fixed point in time that demands a decision, either by me or whatever fate or force controls me. For Muzamil, all other paths have been eliminated; it’s just a short, straight path to a certain end. It feels like there are a million hidden stops along the way; they come out of nowhere, they hinder, they allow you to pass. I don’t know what that is, but in the context of You Will Die at 20, I guess it’s the townspeople, everyone preventing Muzamil from living without severe restrictions on where he goes, what he does.

Having only a little time on Earth is supposed to increase the value of life. Knowing that it will end, likely before we want it to (or more precisely, before we’re adequately prepared for it to), should free us from monotony, allow us to respect each day as something special. But thinking about the ending inserts countless checkpoints, countless worries: are you eating healthy, exercising, getting your teeth cleaned regularly, had your flu shot, checking that your car mirrors are positioned correctly, getting your oil changed often, making enough money, making enough money to retire before you die, making enough money in case of an emergency? The stops expand a life, drawing out its borders infinitely. Now it’s too long, too much. Sakina numbers the days in chalk on the walls of a sunlight-slashed room, waiting for her child to die. The main difference in opposing views of mortality is the degree to which one accepts their end, no matter how untimely. There is mourning, and there is apathy. With each there is some ratio of fear to happy passiveness, the very worst kind of Punnett square. There’s not necessarily one option that’s the best, or least likely to ruin the psyche, but when something forces you into extremes, like a sheikh prophesizing your early demise, it can seriously alter your mental state for a startling amount of time.

 

The village, much like its residents, is almost totally austere: rather neutral tones but harsh surfaces, little life able to grow, stark. The amount of calm, steadiness, in the characters and their surroundings was unsettling, but of course that’s where the movie’s power is.Where there are richer colors, the contrast with their surroundings hurts to look at, makes you feel like crying no matter the subject of the scene. Excitement was always paired with doom, at some point down the line; there was always worry behind the beautiful points.

Most of the movie covers Muzamil’s 19th year, his last-ditch efforts at individualism, or just proving he’s alive. Early-onset death throes, the last dregs. If we lived more like that, tried to feel more, all of the time, would we be better or worse? As people, friends. Citizens, leaders. I’ll invite you to watch this movie and try to think about that. You can access it for free until March 17th.

You can find both in-person and at-home showtimes for the Michigan and State theaters here.