Sátántangó

Film. Bela Tarr. 1994.

In a small dilapidated village in 1980's Hungary, life has come to a virtual standstill.

7 hours. 12 minutes.

Not a minute too long.

A masterpiece.

This is not a film

I remember the first Jafar Panahi film I saw, 'the white balloon', a story about a seven year old girl who wants to buy a goldfish, set against the corruption within the city of Tehran on new year’s eve. I was thrown by back by it’s simplicity whilst capturing the essense of a city. The film has since been a massive influence in the stories I strive to tell today.

Panahi would go onto tackle issues concerning the struggle of women in modern day Iran in films such as 'Offside' and 'the Circle' and how social unbalance can lead a person to crime in 'Crimson gold', making Panahi one of the most contemporary and important filmmakers of the last decade.

On the 20 December 2010, after being prosecuted for “assembly and colluding with the intention to commit crimes against the country’s national security and propaganda against the Islamic Republic,” Jafar Panahi was handed a six-year jail sentence and a 20-year ban on making or directing any movies, writing screenplays, giving any form of interview with Iranian or foreign media as well as leaving the country. And so with this, his latest work is ‘an effort’ as the credits read to express himself the only way he currently can.

And what an incredible effort it is. Shot with a PD-150 digital video camera and a smart phone, the result is a very textured and layered documentary about so many things, numerous viewings are required to enhance the audience’s mind further. Jafar Panahi and Mojbata Mirtahmasb explore the mind of not only a filmmaker, but of human beings.The two friends banter back and forth, even hilariously arguing at times about who's really directing the film. Panahi performs and reads a script he wanted to make before he was sentenced within his living room concerning a woman’s wanting to take up an art course at university, much to the dislike of her family. The passion to pursue the performance until the end falters unfortunately as Panahi wishes he could just make a film.

Whilst the subject matter of 'This Is Not a Film' may seem depressing, in fact, it captures more warmth and beauty within life's details more than any other film I can think of in terms of it's circumstances. The film itself is not an attack on what has happened to Panahi, it's more an observational piece of a man's final hours before the new year arrives. Whilst we watch Panahi eat breakfast, he questions whether if this is pretentious film making before they find subjects to bring into the documentary.

A neighbour calls around to ask Panahi to look after their dog. After he is pushed into taking on the responsibility and the dog won't stop barking, he quickly tells the neighbour he has changed his mind. We don't see the neighbour but yearn to behind an open door as the camera hides from the neighbour and watches on as Panahi converses. One of the greatest stars of the film is Panahi's lizard which roams about the room, at points over Panahi's chest and shoulder.

In one of the funniest and warmest scenes I have ever seen in cinema, is when Panahi follows a fill in custodian for the building out of his flat. Panahi rides down the elevator with the young man as he reveals he was in the building the night the police raided Panahi’s apartment and arrested him. We yearn to hear more of the custodian's story as he is constantly interrupted by stops to collect the trash. The pauses seem to last forever. The conversation flows effortlessly and with so much joy, humour and surprise in this small journey which ends with this final long take in the elevator and into a fiery darkness. At last venturing outdoors, Panahi comes across the streets of fire, celebrations and yelling, a haunting final image and hopefully not the last image he will ever film.

Considering the deeply saddening circumstances of 'This Is Not a Film', the film is in fact an act of celebration and defiance, something akin to a miracle.

'Our problems are also all of our assets. Understanding this promising paradox helped us not to lose hope, and to be able to go on since we believe wherever in the world that we live, we are going to face problems, big or small. But it is our duty not to be defeated and to find solutions …The reality of being alive and the dream of keeping cinema alive motivated us to go through the existing limitations in Iranian cinema.' - Jafar Panahi

Air at the imperial war museum

http://thedfg.org/news/details/1093/london-recut-film-screens-as-part-of-imperial-war-museum-film-festival

When I had the opportunity to see Sofia's Coppola's new film 'Somewhere' in 2010, being the last film at that particular film festival, I was more than skeptical and not so excited as I was not a fan of her commercial hit 'Lost in translation.'

From the opening credits, I was surprised and fascinated, as a sportcar drove fast around a desolated racing circuit in the desert. The camera observes this statically on a tripod. The car eventually stops. Johnny Marco, Stephen Dorff emerges and stands nonchalantly.

Through the film's 98 minutes, we are delivered scenes in much a similar style. The camera shows, rather than tells, as Johnny smokes in his hotel room, watches girls pole dance in his room, breathes underneath a mould casting of his head, sits outside a restaurant before a random text comes through on his phone such as 'Why are you such an arsehole?' A text never explained, never acted on, never brought up again. A moment in the film, nothing more, nothing less, reflecting Johnny and who he is.

Instead, 'Somewhere' focuses on an aimless actor, whilst he spends time with his 11 year old daugther Chloe through moments. In a scene, when Johnny watches Chloe ice skate, the camera simply cuts from his POV back to his profile over a few minutes before she finishes and he claps. Or to take another scene, where Johnny lies on his bed being entertained by a pole dancing duet, the camera simply follows the same aesthetic.

Whilst all this may seem devoid of any meaning or substance, Coppola's virtuosity is in keeping empathy for characters without pouring out mushy sentiment. Johnny Marco as a character goes along a journey and he changes in the end but the film's brilliance is in not speaking to the audience with a hollywood language. The story subtly guides you along a more comfortable, more moody and a search for the essential in quiet scenes.

I was astonished to read the screenplay recently, which begins with the opening scene taking up less than a quarter of the page. In screenwriting language, a page equals one minute in screen time and in the film, this scene takes up nearly three minutes. In fact, the entire script is full of short scenes which are blown up in the film, constrasted in it's 98 minutes duration, to it's 44 page screenplay.

The winner of the Golden Lion at Venice in 2010, the year Quentin Tarantino was head of the jury, 'Somewhere' is something to remember. Like 'Lost in translation', it follows a relationship between a woman and an actor, but in this case, it's a father and daughter and a far better film overall, less potentious and arrogant but some people may think it's the other way around.

The story of film: an odyssey

'At the end of the 1800's, a new artform flickered into life, it looked like our dreams...' During the course of fifteen weeks, we were hugged by cinema through an odyssey of passion and innovation, based on Mark Cousins book, of the same name in this epic documentary.

I remember when I first heard about the idea, how large scale it was, how exciting and refreshing this was to visualise. During the course of 900 mins, we are taken around the globe and introduced to an array of film languages.

Whilst people may say, it didn't cover everything, how could it? Yes, there is a number of films, directors we could all name that didn't make an appearance or got mentioned but like any great film, we are told what the film-maker chooses to tell us, it's their story. I'm sure there is alot on the SOF editing floor, which may make it to the DVD, like the lost gem deleted from City lights, as shown in episode 2.

Starting with people leaving a factory and ending with dreams within dreams, Mark gave us what he called 'a taste of each film', avoiding his own presence on screen, using only his voice as a classic storyteller. So where did this innovation mainly start from? The camera, the cut, the sound, the future of how the medium could be challenged within a social and political world and survive, became the active question.

The story of film is less about learning about cinema but more about celebrating it as an artform and how film-makers have used it to speak to the individuals of the world.

The most incredible aspect of the documentary for me, was in the end where I learnt something quite important. Whilst a particular film may not interest me, I should however take a moment and think, what are they doing differently, what's new about their approach to the story?

The epilogue of the story of film is hauntingly disturbing, beautifully moving and poignant to an artfom that has changed all our lives.

It's sad that the story of film is over but the story of film itself is not yet finished...