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...

The Social Network

How many people are pushed into setting up a social networking account? I was, on both occasions, with My Space and facebook. In fact, Twitter was the only one I thought all to myself to set up!

In 2008, I was approached by my friend, Alex Barrett (currently finishing post production on his first feature film Life Just Is) to write a short film together, examining social networking sites in a satirical fashion. The film was entitled 'Paintbrush' the ficticious website which lets you connect. Made entirely of real stills from facebook, the film went onto circle film festivals in various parts of the globe. At the time, I mentioned the idea of a sequel to Alex, which would focus on the issue of death within social networking sites, which Alex didn't really get with at the time.

It wasn't until some months later when Alex read an article about the same subject that 'Paintbrush: The Epitaph' was finally born. Shorter, still made up entirely of stills and about the existence of someone's life online, after they have passed away. The film went on to do better, at bigger festivals, winning an award at LSFF in 2010, it went onto to be screened at Hamburg shorts and Kassel doc fest, with the next screening taking place at the Werkstatt der Jungen Filmszen which I thoroughly look forward to attending.

A few weeks ago I saw 'Catfish' which I was really impressed by, if not wondering a little at how real it actually was. Nevertheless, a great piece of work. When the 'The Social Network' came out in 2010, I was intrigued, if not a bit turned off by it being directed by David Fincher. I know, I know, not a very popular thing to say but my problem with Fincher is that he's full of gimmicks, twists, over-the-top played out drama, too glossy and all in all, just really not as great as other filmmakers today in my opinion. But the social network really interested me, not really in terms of my own existence in making films about the subject of social networking, but on the subject it was tackling about the birth of facebook.

So what was it about Fincher's film that lingered in my mind after watching it. There was no gimmicks, it was full of ambiguity of why Mr Zuckerberg betrayed his friend, no hero is really identified within the film, the film stays clear of Mark's parents, no sympathy is created for any of the characters, there is no speech of how Mark has gained so many friends on-line but in reality he's has no one who cares for him.

'The social network' plays it straight. It gives the saying 'an instant classic' some meaning. An important film about loyalty, loneliness, friends, betrayal, greed and the definition of a decade that brought old friends and strangers, as well as bringing us the relationship status. Where would we be without it?

The School of Sound

You could say that The School of Sound brought me to where I am today...

In 2003 I attended The School of Sound (SOS) festival for the first time but not the last. A four day event consisting of four lectures per day, attended by sound enthusiasts from around the globe.

It's fair to say that if it wasn't for The School of Sound, I wouldn't be studying my MA in screenwriting at London College of communication today. At the last closing reception of SOS 2005, I met a man whom I informed I wanted to be a screenwriter to. I had just recently completed my BA degree in film and video and was ready for the world of rejection, words on paper, sleepless nights full of endless ideas bouncing around and no money in my pockets.

This gentleman informed of six universities within the UK, which all contained MA screenwriting courses, following a syllabus that enables the graduate to gain writing work successfully in the bussiness after gathering the necessary skills from the course. At this point I said to him, 'who are you? You could potentially change my life and my decisions on what I do from now over the next year or years.' This was the point at which he told me that his name was Philip Parker, which still didn’t mean anything to me at that moment, until he informed me that he was a screenwriter and the creator of these six courses.

What can I say about Philip Parker, he had a way with his words because what he said and how he said it, gelled into my brain and didn’t leave me until I finally got onto the MA screenwriting course after five years, four applications and three interviews later. Thank you Philip Parker, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.

My first SOS's, 2003, 2005, both contained the same amount of vast knowledge and were full of immense love for the audio in all it's different forms, amongst a large group of creative, like minded people. I learnt, I met, enjoyed, networked and went away with a sense that this was a festival like no other.

Film festivals is a world I know and understand in many shapes, forms, styles, countries and SOS stands isolated as a unique festival about an art which has always fought to be remembered alongside it's partner, the visual. After the festival of 2005, I knew that I wanted to return and I hoped it would be in 2007, as SOS takes place every two year.

Exchanges of discussions took place between myself and Larry Sider, co-creator alongside his partner Diane Sider over my possible attendance to the festival in 2o07, 2009, the timing sadly never working out. I’m happy to say that I was finally able to return this year, in 2011 and I was pleased to find it hadn't changed. The same quality of lectures, lecturers, people from the world of film, theatre, games, art and music were all there, bringing ideas and wisdom to the world of sound we love and live in.

Without pointing to any lectures specifically, all can be found about the quality of the festival online at http://www.schoolofsound.co.uk/, in the speakers it has had over the years, what the festival's aim is and the books available to purchase. The only part I will mention within the Purcell room is from this year’s festival closing speech from Diane Sider. Before the routine ritual of returning the sound to its silence took place, Diane informed everyone what The School of Sound is actually about. Words that I was truly moved by, I can’t exactly paraphrase the beauty of what she said but it was along these lines.

‘School of sound isn’t actually about films, theatre, art, games, installations, it’s about listening. But are you actually listening or just catching the chatter, whilst thinking about tonight’s dinner. It’s actually a hard thing to do, to listen.’ Diane went onto to talk about freedom of speech and how people around the world are fighting to be listened to.

I sat motionless...left with only the silence.

Best. Trailer. Ever.

Life

Born.

Work.

Live.

Love.

Die.

How much does your life weigh?

'All the things you probably hate about travelling -the recycled air, the artificial lighting, the digital juice dispensers, the cheap sushi- are warm reminders that I'm home.'

In 2009, I sat within an cinema audience for a screening of Jason Reitman's third feature film 'Up in the air', up until this point I had been impressed by 'Thank you for smoking' and had understood and appreciated 'Juno's success but I had no idea that the film I was about to witness, would still have me thinking about it now.

The film was enjoyed by the crowd, laughing in the places where the film wanted you to laugh but what made me feel inferior to the rest was when the film ended and we all applauded, it somehow felt polite as opposed to a general love for what they had just watched. I included a large WHHOOPP which I think the film deserved. I remember someone slightly turning their head, almost as if they were thinking, 'what's wrong with you, you liked that film? I couldn't stop thinking about it...but why?

Was it the false pretences in which the film seemed like it was going to turn out in the end but didn't, this ain't no romantic comedy. Was it the world in which our protagonist was in, a man who fires people for a living, mirroring the current recession of the new millennium? Was it the fact that people fired in the film did actually lose their jobs in real life, the life imitating art factor with Ryan Bingham being played by George Clooney, the sharp comedy of the script, the gentle and subtly played out drama of a man learning the beauty of having a 'co-pilot' in life.

Ryan Bingham is a man who learns that the life he has been rejecting for years is actually much better than the life he has been living confidently in. He continues in his job to no satisfaction, his family regard him as a ghost, the woman he finally falls for, already has been living what he realises he now wants, so what has he got left...?

Ryan brings another future to Natalie Keener with his enthusiastic reference...with the final scene looming, where is our scene informing the audience confidently that Ryan will be okay, smile at a woman on the plane before he starts talking to her, using the Hollywood technique we'll lived with for years, that idea 'that everything will be alright in the end.'

Well...we do get it, Ryan stands with destination endless, acknowledges the audience with a sadness in his face, with a voice-over describing whilst happy families will carry on tonight, the stars will shine before disappearing and the final light of hope...will be his wing-tip flying over. Dead. Silence. The audience is left with clouds...Ryan is alone...

Why did I like this film? The man from the cinema and most of the audience who heard that loud whoop, seems like they thought the same or maybe they were too stunned or taken back by what they had just seen? I love it because I can't believe I see it...

Ryan Bingham learns but he doesn't change...he is the same man at the beginning and the end, only left with more pain...

In a great scene where he learns who he actually is, where he's from, what is at the centre of his life, the pilot asks him whilst they sit side by side on the plane 'where you from?' Ryan replies...

'I'm from here.'

Ryan Bingham: 'How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life... you start with the little things. The shelves, the drawers, the knickknacks, then you start adding larger stuff. Clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, your TV... the backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. You go bigger. Your couch, your car, your home... I want you to stuff it all into that backpack. Now I want you to fill it with people. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the office... and then you move into the people you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your brothers, your sisters, your children, your parents and finally your husband, your wife, your boyfriend, your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack, feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake your relationships are the heaviest components in your life. All those negotiations and arguments and secrets, the compromises. The slower we move the faster we die. Make no mistake, moving is living. Some animals were meant to carry each other to live symbiotically over a lifetime. Star crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not swans. We are sharks.'