My Garden of Edam

One of these things is not like the other...

     Bonjour, my lovely readers. I hope you have missed me terribly. I hope you have checked this blog every day only to be disappointed to see the same post load time and time again. I hope you will forgive me. Most of all, I hope you are ready for some fresh thoughts and cultural sophistication.

With all that said, it's time to talk about cheese.

Reflections Of An American Cheese-Lover Post-France

     To start things off, I must describe the long history of my love for cheese. Somewhere in my house there is an old home video of me, three years old with a bow on my head, being walked on stage by my mother in a beauty pageant. It was the first time I had ever participated in a pageant and it would be the absolute last time I would ever participate in a pageant. My debut as a star was curtailed, though I am not quite sure if it was my determination to spend the least amount of time on my feet out of all the contestants or my utter lack of interest in leaving the stage, eventually resulting in me being dragged off by my mother, which did me in.

     One part of my chaotic parade that did go reasonably well was the naming off of my favorites by the announcer. My favorite TV show: Sesame Street. My favorite cartoon character: Elmo. My favorite food: cheese. What cheese? Any and all cheeses in every form imaginable to my three-year-old self. Cheese toast. Grilled cheese. Grits with cheese. Cheetos. Cheez-Its (NEVER Cheese Nips). Cheddar cheese. Macaroni and cheese. String cheese. Cheese pizzas. Just plain ol' slices of American cheese fresh in their plastic wrappers.

     As I got older, I discovered more sophisticated ways of integrating cheese into my diet. I figured out I could put cheese on things that previously had none. All of a sudden there were brand new foods. It was like I had a hole in my life that I never knew was there until I was able to remedy it, with cheese. Nachos and cheese. Cheeseburgers. Cheese balls. Cheese fries. Queso dip. Cream cheese on bagels. Cheese on rice. Cheese 'n' Eggs. EZ Cheese and Ritz crackers. Broccoli sure got a whole lot better, and I even had specialty cheese biscuits I demanded whenever Dad made breakfast on weekend mornings.

     A few more years and I still found more cheeses at my fingertips. Cottage cheese. Cheese fondue. Smoked cheese. Swiss cheese. Ricotta cheese. Fresh mozzarella. Brie.  Asiago cheese. Blue Cheese. And so on, and so forth. While I am on the subject, I must interject here my conclusion that Alfredo pasta is just Mac & Cheese for adults.

     You can only imagine the wonder and amazement I experienced when I wandered into the French grocery, called Casino, for the first time on my study abroad trip. There were the stands dedicated to fruit and fish and fresh bread. There were aisles of pastas. There were hundreds of wines to choose from... and then I found the cheese aisle.

     It was all there. All the cheese I had ever desired in my lifetime. Cheddar, Brie, Bleu, Edam, Gorgonzola, Mozzarella, Gruyere, Roquefort, Chevres, Cream Havarti, Feta, Parmesan, Reblochon, Swiss, Lancashire... the mirrors lining the shelves and display cases might as well have been the mirrors of fun houses for young children. In them I saw real cheeses in real cheese wheels. Real cheeses in real cheese boxes. Real cheeses in real pre-shredding shapes and sizes.

     I had to touch them all. I picked up each cheese and smelled it. I held it. I squeezed it and turned it. I would have tasted it had there not been the obligatory plastic wrapping to stop me from entering my very own Garden of Edam.

     Though all I left with was an eighth of a wheel of Brie and a bar of soap, my first trip to the grocery lasted at least a full hour, if not more, with most of my time being spent in the cheese. Of our weekly stipend of 100 euros, I would estimate that ten to twelve percent of it went directly to French cheese each Monday. 

     The trip was always the same too. I would wander the store, teasing myself by not directly darting to the cheese aisle, leaving the best part for last and building the anticipation. I'd browse the breads and maybe check out the cereal selection, all the while creeping closer to my friends Monterey and Jack. Eventually, I'd find myself suddenly surrounded by Colby and Ricotta and I would disappear for a good half hour before emerging victorious with what was sure to be a delicious meal all on its own.

__________

     I went to the store the other day with my mother after I returned from France to look for healthy foods to take up residence in our fridge and pantry. The usual dance ensued. Step, two, three. Step, two, three. Hold. Ahh, peanut butter. Waltz and waltz and waltz and turn. Why, tuna, hello! Switch buggies. Do-si-do and a kick and a jump. Chicken breast, how nice to see you. Twirl, twirl and dip... cheese aisle, we meet again.

    Except this time it was different. American slices stacked up to my shoulders greeted me with an awkward familiarity; it was like meeting an old friend from elementary school for the first time in a few years. I glanced around and found one row of Feta and one grouping of miniature cheese boxes containing the blessed Brie. A sea of thin square clones pressed together like sardines met me head on, only differentiated by a slight change in color or branding. There was nothing to feel, nothing to smell, nothing to hold that wasn't layered in stiff packaging.

     I found myself stuck with a question and a dilemma, neither of which I particularly felt like addressing. The question: Have I become a cheese snob? Cheese enthusiast that I have been my entire life, I have never found an aversion to eating whatever cheese is in front of me. Now that I have experienced the life of fine cheese, what do I do with myself? The question leads, then, into the dilemma: Do I buy the cheese available to me or go without it altogether until I can find better cheese? Is all cheese good cheese? Do I make do with what I am given, or do I work to promote a higher value of cheese? Do I dishonor and do cheese a disservice by endorsing Kraft singles with my purchasing power? 

     My temporary solution: Cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is pretty much the same wherever you go. It's always either completely loved or completely hated, and it can't come in anything but a plastic bucket. No one really wants to hold cottage cheese and the smell, I would hazard to say, is always the same. I avoided the decision-making by leaving with a container of it to hold me over until I am forced to return to the grocery and determine a course of action that sets the tone for the rest of my cheese-loving life.

Get Your Ticket Here

          I find the French trains interesting because they can be many things at once. They are versatile and volatile and can just as easily lead you to success as they can to failure. You can take them to the next stop or to the next country if you want. You can pay or not pay according to your level of daring, and sometimes you can even get a discount if the lady at the desk is kind enough to ask your age. The train has many properties and roles, the first among these being a reliable form of transportation, but most of the time, the train also has a mind and personality of its own to figure into the equation of getting you from place to place.

The Bad Date

This train leaves you waiting… waiting… waiting… and wondering whether it is ever going to show. You think, “Maybe, it got held up in traffic,” so you wait around on the platform convincing yourself that it’s going to show up any minute now. Any minute now… You think, “It probably just got a late start,” and so you force yourself to remain rooted to the same spot, afraid that if you move anywhere it will come and you’ll miss it completely as it moves on its way like you never even existed. Most likely, it’s sitting at home in the depot and hasn’t bothered to let you know it cancelled because it figures you’ll just catch the next one that comes along.

The P-P-P-P-P-P-P-Poker Face

This train plays two distinct hands. The first is to intimidate you into folding early. You hop on a train because you are sure it is the right one, but something about the train makes you question its destination. It’s a sign or a vague direction you hear the conductor give another person. All of a sudden you ditch the train only to realize a few minutes later that it most definitely was the one you needed and now you will be waiting forever for another train, especially if it’s in the middle of the day.

The second hand is a result of the train’s impeccably vague instructions. It gives just enough information to convince you that you are going to come out on top. You’ve got the right train going in the right direction to the right destination, and then bam! You’re stuck in the belly of Monte Carlo when you meant to be in St. Rochelle, or the train darts past your stop because you failed to realize it was an express.

The Peeping Tom

          Sometimes the train winds its way around the track at an incredibly slow pace, allowing for it to become your peephole into other people’s daily lives. From your seat, you can watch ladies clad only in their undergarments tending their flowers on their balconies, if only for a few seconds as the train creeps on by. You can watch a team score the winning goal in their soccer match and rush to celebrate by tackling the goalie. You can have small snapshots of intimate moments in people’s lives as you watch an old man sit quietly on a bench sipping his morning cup of coffee or a mother scold her children at the beach. This train helps you to forget that you are going to be late to the showing of that film in the Palais by allowing you to momentarily slip into someone else’s life for a few brief seconds.

The Dumpster

            This train acts more like a pool gutter than anything else, collecting all the trash you would rather not see while you’re trying to have a good time. A strand of hair caught in the vent blows in your direction and you to hope to the high heavens that it does not break free and float your way. Adjusting your skirt, you notice an apple core has been smashed between the seats. Leftover capsules from some passenger’s medication taken en route litter the floor and roll between your feet as the train accelerates, and the seat next to you smells faintly of urine. In front of you, there are plastic wrappers trapped in the fold-down table or, if you are lucky, a piece of gum placed haphazardly on the wall so that you have to lean away into the stranger next to you to avoid getting any on your clothes.

            Occasionally you encounter the dumpster divers, who stumble along the cars looking for treasures unbeknownst to you. It is even possible for one of these divers to dive right into your lap, mumbling something in French that you might not even understand if you spoke the language. The best method is to scoot quickly away while they crawl into the next room and startle other passengers.

The Museum

          Although all trains have the potential to become public forums for graffiti artists everywhere, museum status is reserved for a special few. You wait in line to board only to be overwhelmed by the displays that surround you as the doors slide shut. These trains have cartoons, vocabulary lessons, and, of course, obscenities scrawled into every surface the train has to offer. Scratched into windows you can barely look out, you can find initials of lovers from the days of romance when carving your names into public property is a sign of permanent affection. On the ceiling overhead, there could be passages from poets or drawings reminiscent of etchings found in old cave walls. You could walk the train for hours investigating the masterpieces of this modern museum, but as the train pulls into the next stop, you realize you have other places to be and other sights to see.

The James Bond

          Get a window seat and the French train can become your best tool for practicing secret service style surveillance. When the glare gets in the way of your viewing the scenery right out the window, focus your eyes instead on the reflection in the window and use it to spy on the lovebirds a few rows ahead who you are sure are having an intense discussion, or perhaps make out session. If you can smell that the guy a seat behind you has food, but you aren’t sure what, just pretend you are gazing spacily out across the ocean while you take a covert glance in his bag. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you can catch people doing embarrassing things like picking their nose. The train can be your best partner in crime so long as you don’t get caught and make things awkward for everyone involved.

The Rosetta Stone

          Ride it long enough and the French train has the capability to turn into your number one source for foreign language education. On a good day, you can at least hear three separate languages from Cannes to Juan-les-Pins, most likely French, German and Italian. Whether it’s because you are forced to converse when asked about the train (see excuses/conversation starter), or just as a result of sitting around long enough to listen to entire conversations between the passengers around you, both are valid and quick methods to take a crash course in daily vocabulary… or at least train-related vocabulary.

The Runway

          The aisle of the train becomes a runway for each person to do their little turn and show off what they’ve got. All sorts of people ride the train, so no matter what your style, you can be sure to see a few people you might like to try and emulate and at least a dozen others you know for sure you won’t. A few suave French teens will provide the beat for the parade of scarves, dresses, heels, hats and jeans weave their way in and out of the seats while the music blasts from their earbuds, also serving as your update on the hippest music in the French Riviera.

REVIEW: McDonalds? McNot for Altamurans.

Title: Foccacia Blues

Director: Nico Cirasola

Running Time: 90 minutes

Major Actors: Renzo Arbore, Lino Banfi, Dante Marmone,

Nico Cirasola, Michele Placido

McDonalds McDoesn’t Do It For Altamurans

          Who doesn’t enjoy a good rendition of an underdog victory? In Foccacia Blues, Nico Cirasola provides audiences with just such a story centered on a fledgling bakery forced to compete against a newly opened McDonalds only a few doors away in his hometown of Altamura.

           In what Cirasola describes as “[his] docu-comedy,” he provides interview accounts from villagers living in Altamura and combines them with an interwoven subplot that provides an alternative look on the contrasting values of a small Italian town and a giant consumerism culture.

           While at times a bit indulgent, the spirit present from the first moment we are introduced to the characters of Foccacia Blues makes it difficult to walk away from this charming tale of a small town bakery’s victory over the oppressive franchise of McDonalds.

          After an awkward and unnecessary promotional intro for the film that tells us how much we should want to see the film we are already filling the theater seats to see, Cirasola brings us to a map of Italy where we see a toy car, bright blue, chugging along through the countryside roads. The map then becomes the vibrant countryside itself, taking us into the heart of Altamura, where the story truly begins, and allowing us an exquisite look at what makes Altamura worth defying big corporations in the first place.

          We know what we are fighting for as soon as the dynamo cooking duo, Lino Banfi and Dante Marmone, start the wordplay about each other’s prospective hometowns while preparing the ingredients to make, you guessed it, foccacia bread on their television show. Each of the interviewees brims with personality. From the mother-daughter pair who runs the bakery downtown to the group of elderly men just looking for a cool place to sit during the hot summer afternoons, each person imbues the film with their own distinct identity and heritage. We begin to understand exactly why a McDonalds would not survive in such a close-knit town.

          The story that unfolds is not as much of a tirade against the oppressive force of consumerist business practice, but a humorous and calm defense for the existence of Altamura’s village culture, as well as an explanation of how they managed to crowd out the most widespread fast-food chain in the world simply by continuing to live and interact the way they had done for centuries before it showed up on their doorstep.

          One butcher gives a humorous account of passing by the McDonalds and seeing a new sign out advertising their “100% ground beef.” He recounts his surprise of how ignorant the business owners must have been to place that sign in the window, because, he states, “Everyone in town knows that’s the worst cut of meat.” By the end of the day it was gone.

          Interludes with Renzo, the small-town fruit stand hero and driver of the bright blue truck at the beginning of the film, provide a comedic parallel to the central message of Foccacia Blues. As he struggles against the flash and flair of Manuel, a city slicker passing through town who knows nothing about the intricacies and values of small town customs, to keep the attention of his long time love interest, we become more entangled in the web of Italian life and are given a behind-the-scenes taste of the vibrancy of the village.

         The culmination of all that is true and masterful about Foccacia Blues occurs when Renzo, harried from a day of chance encounters with Manuel, comes home to find the tomatoes he carefully laid out to sundry have been blocked by a giant shadow in the shape of an “M,” which he looks up and discovers is the sign from the newly erected McDonalds. We feel Renzo’s pain and frustration in his waste of an entire day’s work and simultaneously understand the resulting interruption of the McDonalds in the lives of the all the people inhabiting Altamura.

          The only thing missing from Foccacia Blues is an account from the franchise owners of the failed McDonalds. Presumably because this film was made as an afterthought following the failed business venture, Cirasola failed to include interviews from the perspective of people trying to acclimate their enterprise to a culture so vastly different from their own.

          Foccacia Blues, though it occasionally verges on open patriotism that, while important and interesting to Italians, may become wearisome and redundant to those not a part of the small village itself, overall becomes a heartwarming documentary perspective on the success of a people who did nothing other than to continue deferring to a preference for their own culture. Cirasola manages such a perfect encapsulation of the spirit and heart of Altamura through his story that makes it difficult not to root for this tiny town’s film, Foccacia Blues, to come out on top.

ANTE Season 1, Espisode 2

America's Next Top Embarrassment

Season 1, Episode 2

SETTING: A stand selling everything from sandwiches to Croque Monsoir outside the Palais.

A girl stands towards the back of a crowd of people all rushing to fill their order. She fights her way to the front to order.

CAITLYN: Bon-jour! Je voudrais.. une crepe avec nutella, emporter, sil-vous-plait.

STAND OPERATOR: Oui, 4 euros.

Caitlyn fumbles through her bag to find enough coins to cover the cost of her meal. She grabs a handful of money and reaches past the head of a large man in order to hand over the change. The stand operator takes the money and begins to calculate out how much change to give. He pauses, picks up one of the coins, and takes a closer look at it.

STAND OPERATOR: Qu'est-que c'est?

Caitlyn is staring off into the distance imagining the deliciousness of a Nutella crepe in her belly.

STAND OPERATOR: Excuse-moi, mademoiselle, mais... qu'est-que c'est?

Caitlyn looks up.

CAITLYN: Oh, me? Sorry, what? Uh... quoi?

The stand operator holds the coin back out to her.

STAND OPERATOR: This. This. What is this?

Caitlyn looks at the coin, confused. It then dawns on her that the change she brought to Cannes from the last time she traveled abroad must have included a Chuck-E-Cheese token. Her cheeks redden.

CAITLYN: uhhh... Chuck-E-Cheese? Oh God. It's Chuck-E-Cheese. I... just... I'll just take that back.

Caitlyn grabs the Chuck-E-Cheese token from the stand operator and replaces it with a one euro coin.

STAND OPERATOR: Merci...

Post Festival Depression

Au revoir, Cannes Film Festival.

*SIGH*

 Things I Will Miss About The Cannes Film Festival (in no particular order):
1. Getting to flash my market badge at the guards and not be denied access to anywhere. Unless it was closed. But that doesn't actually count because everyone got denied.
2. Getting to flaunt my market badge to people with paltry cinephile badges.
3. Reading subtitles to an incredible number of foreign films.
4. Being encouraged to watch as many films in a day as possible. I think five was the max number I reached. That does not include short films.
5. Meeting people from all over the world who are all interested in film. Producers, writers, directors, actors and actresses, cameramen, celebrities, critics, interns, students, film enthusiasts... I met some of every kind.
6. Walking past all the yachts docked in the harbor and strolling along the beach before rushing in to catch the next showing of a film.
7. The superior seats in all the theaters in Cannes. There were some with leather upholstery, y'all. Leather. Genuine Leather. The rest of them were fuzzy and comfy and fit your body perfectly. They had little head rests and ample arm rests. That is luxury, my friends.
8. The opening theme of all the competition films at Cannes which always sounded a little like it was from Beauty and the Beast to me.
9. Being in a theater with the people who made the film you are watching and applauding them after it's finished showing.
10. Having the opportunity to watch films from all over the world. The saddest thing is knowing that some of the best films I have ever seen will never reach the United States market. Woo-hoo, Hollywood.
11. Did I already mention the availability of foreign films?
12. Oh yeah, and foreign films.

REVIEW: 2B or not 2B

Title: 2B

Director: Richard Kroehling

Running Time: 132 minutes

Major Actors: James Remar, Kevin Corrigan, Jane Kim,

Florencia Lozano, John Christian Plummer

2B or not 2B

I think everyone who watches 2B should experience the film the way I experienced it at the Cannes Film Festival, sleep deprived and with nothing better on any of the screens around. Here’s how to do it…

**How To Prepare To View 2B**

Step One: Eat a decent meal and use the bathroom. Any distraction at all gives you a reason to get up from your seat, and once you get up you are not coming back. Trust me.

Step Two-A: Bring a friend. Having someone to commiserate with increases the interest in the film and also the hilarity. Trading zingers keeps you alert and ready for when the nipple caps come up or for when they rip a line straight off George Carlin.

-or-

Step Two-B: Don’t bring a friend. You’ll be embarrassed enough that you sat and watched the whole film. If no one is around, you don’t have to remember it at all.

It never happened.

Step Three: Watch it late at night when there’s nothing better to do except maybe sleep. Viewing the film when slightly tired also helps make it funnier rather than sadder. Lines like, “Can I ask you a question?” and “Do you have a cunt?” are more acceptable when you’re too tired to care as much about the cinematic value of the film. I said more acceptable.

**Now, What to Expect…**

            If you were hoping to view a futuristic film about the rise of transbemans who will eventually replace the human race because they are better suited for a world of technology and don’t have any of the human follies, such as greed, hatred, or envy, the film will meet your expectations to some degree.

            If you were hoping to view an insightful or interesting film about the rise of transbemans who will eventually replace the human race, you will be a little more disappointed and possibly baffled by the next 132 minutes that follow the opening credits.

            Within the first few minutes of 2B, each major character appears on screen as their voiceover narrates their plans, their innermost desires, what their favorite color is, the name of their first childhood pet, their concerns on picking the winning lotto numbers, their deepest fears, what they had for breakfast, ad nauseam. The cheesy script is distracting enough, but coupled with the poor reaction shots of the characters, it becomes difficult to believe you are supposed to be watching a serious drama instead of a spoof of a serious drama.

            The disbelief heightens with the introduction of the man cave, where reclusive inventor, the eccentric Dr. Tom Mortlake (James Remar), resides in a sparse, stony mansion only decorated with a large leather armchair placed in the very center of the vacant space. He has created a serene atmosphere where he grows his transbemans - otherwise known as TRANSitional Bio Electronic huMANS - including a garden, and has even gone so far as to lay out a canopy bed for educational afternoon discussions with Mia about the Holocaust and other horrible tragedies in human history.

            Mia Mortlake (Jane Kim), Dr. Tom Mortlake’s first transbeman, has already grown to full adulthood and is noted as being incredibly attractive several too many times for comfort throughout the film. After Dr. Tom Mortlake instructs Mia to murder him on live broadcast that he somehow secures on all the televisions in the entire world from his house, he leaves directions for her to seek out Clay Konroy (Kevin Corrigan), a rogue indie journalist who has long since been scratched off the Pulitzer mailing list, in order for him to blog the story of their work in the realm of transbemans and the elusive Mindfile because he is the only man Dr. Tom Mortlake trusts to get the word out, for reasons that are never explained to the audience.

            An odd relationship forms between Mia and Clay, resulting in many more references to her attractiveness and questions as to why Dr. Tom Mortlake would make her female as opposed to male, not so subtly insinuating the possibility of creepy maker-transbeman sexual interactions. These insinuations turn into outright accusations by Clay, who insists, “Daddy didn’t make [her] just to hold [her] hands,” and also demands that she should definitely tell him if she has a cunt or not. In case you get curious to know simply because it is brought up on so many occasions in the first hour of the film, the status of Mia’s nether regions is never determined conclusively one way or another.

            At this point, the movie goes from, believe it or not, a somewhat mellow tone to a vulgar and shocking one. The dialogue takes off with a flood of obscenities, even with sweet, naïve Mia getting in on the action as she branches off from her previous orders from “Daddy” on never cursing unless she gives someone a dollar. I’m assuming the reasoning behind this is to show us that transbemans have personalities subject to change and that they are more human than robot, but the resulting effect instead is to make the viewer question whether these transbemans are really better than humans or if they are still subject to the same follies that wise Dr. Tom Mortlake was trying to avoid.

            A romantic element is thrown in nearly as an afterthought towards the end of the film as Mia and Clay share a kiss. Surprisingly, this does not occur during or following the conversation about Mia’s nether regions or about her father creating her as a pinnacle of female beauty. After spending most of the movie wondering not if, but when, Clay was going to take advantage of the opportunity to exercise his journalistic inquisitiveness, it was a bit surprising that they did not move beyond the one steamy sporadic kiss.

            The scene where Mia describes the transbeman birthing process is a strange one, not because it’s detailing the creation of a transbeman, but because they decide to cover only the nipples of Mia’s character while she floats in the birthing tank and “Daddy” pulls her from the water, an action dangerously close to appearing sensual. Kroehling kind of already “goes there,” what with his talk of cunts and motherfuckers and all, and now it seems like at this point he changes his mind yet again about the direction he wants his film to take. The waffling between the tones of the film is confusing because it doesn’t let viewers stay in one mindset. It’s hard to tell if Kroehling is trying to align his film with a thriller, suspense, erotic, or strict sci-fi genre, not that he should have to pick one and only one, but the quick change of pace is unsettling and dizzying for the audience.

            Many of the characters were simply not believable. The worst example, or perhaps the best example, of character unbelievability laid in the performance of Haley Dumond as Nicole St. John, a newscaster with an incredibly poor Southern accent. People go to school for years in order to perfect the neutral newscaster voice, but not Nicole St. John. She acts incredibly unprofessionally for a head newscaster and is given, according to the clips of the show shown during the film, an incredibly heavy amount of time on screen to spout nonsense at the camera.

            As the film comes to a close, the caricature of all women police officers, Detective Vicky Borano (Florencia Lozano), finds Mia and arrests her, telling her wryly that she “does not have the right to remain silent because [she] doesn’t have any rights,” and Clay drives somewhere out into the forest to desperately upload his blog to the Internet... in the remote forest... ? But I guess in a world with transbemans anything's possible, so Mia dons a gown akin to a hospital gown, except with a carefully placed slit right between her cleavage, yet another slight nod to her shapely form, and we watch as a council of what appear to be “experts” hold a court case over the Internet about what to do with her. At this point in the film, Kroehling has at least accomplished the task of getting us to suspend or disbelief to the point where we can expect that anything that can happen will happen, so when the police take Mia to a holding cell to lethally inject her and Clay goes out to Dr. Tom Mortlake’s woods to wait, though we never find out what for, we are infinitely surprised when the film simply ends with no bells and whistles attached.

            The aim of 2B to open the public’s eye to the quickening of technological advancements and to make us question what exactly makes us humans is a noble enough goal and an interesting topic. The painful dialogue and poor acting, however, overshadow the patchy moments of insight that were deep enough to fully address Kroehling’s concern for the future. The film becomes more like an exploration of a schizophrenic’s witness account of these events with the amount of times the film shifts in its approach of tackling the narrative. And so, when it comes to 2B or not 2B, we would have been better off if Richard Kroehling had never even asked the question.

REVIEW: Doe and the Technicolor Dreambow

Title: The Rainbow

Director: Josčo Marušik

Running Time: 75 minutes 

Doe and the Technicolor Dreambow

   

Josčo Marušik, with his film The Rainbow, is determined to change audiences’ approaches to animation just as much as he is determined to examine the relationships between parents and children or between expectations and diversions of interest in upholding those expectations by those most affected by them, the children.

            Marušik, through employing frame within a frame within a frame narrative style, centers the story on the conflict of a young girl, nicknamed “Doe,” confined to her house with only the use of a smuggled handkerchief and her own imagination to create entertainment and playmates for herself. By weaving other Croatian short stories in with Doe’s plight, Marušik creates a mixed world of fantasy and reality in which to fully explore the depths of disappointment faced by those confined to the restraints placed on them, but most especially, the disappointments experienced by those who struggle against the restraints and, as a result, find themselves even more hopelessly entangled.

            Although The Rainbow relies on a simplistic animation structure reminiscent of an early nineties Reading Rainbow episode to tell the grievous tale of the Croatian children’s plight, the style showcases the minute detail of each frame that lingers on the screen. The artists take care to simplify the least important images, such as the trees in the background, while adding detail to the images the audience should focus on throughout the film, like the characters and their expressions.

          Doe is highly stylized as a result of her importance to the film. She stares wistfully out her bedroom window in several key scenes in The Rainbow, and by examining each still of her face as the movie progresses, it is evident the lines in her face grow longer and deeper and the corners of her eyes droop with sadness each time her parents refuse to let her play outdoors with the other children, causing her to look aged and dried up well before her time.

          Doe dreams of becoming an alkar (warrior) instead, and introduces Salko, whose story entwines with her own but poses a contrasting view on the role of masculinity in Croatian history as he is thwarted of his dreams by his own father. Salko’s foil to Doe’s woes shows the inequality of genders is not the only issue for children to fight to overcome, as even young men can be deprived of a happy life.

          The quick pacing and heavy narration in The Rainbow comes close to overwhelming the audience with a number of stories of Croatian children, each sadder than the one before it. The relentless rain from the beginning of the film mirrors the relentless tears the children cry as each one struggles against their lot in life only to find nothing rewarding on the other side.

          Sava, born into poverty and deprived the fingers on her right hand after a sow her parents insisted she keep bites them off, cannot even prevail after having learned to weave only using one hand and her teeth, but she imparts a bit of wisdom to Doe about rainbows. Sava tells Doe, “If a girl passes under a rainbow, she would become a boy,” which gives Doe the courage to find a rainbow and attain all her hopes for a new life.

          Dreams and reality collide as Salko and Doe’s stories come to an end and the movie returns to the real world. Doe finds a rainbow and begins her long walk toward the center of it through a swampy marsh as her only toy, the handkerchief with her beloved playmates, washes away in the water.

As the scene fades and Doe continues trekking forever onward towards a hope of a new life, we are left with a melancholic realization that she will never reach her dream because rainbows are merely illusions and nothing more.

          However, since the playmates from Doe’s handkerchief are the only figures able to transcend the boundaries between fiction and reality and provide the audience with the most fluid animation of the entire film, they effectively become the most real, most lasting figures of the film even though they only exist as illusions in Doe’s imagination.

         Perhaps, even though the playmates only exist in Doe’s mind and the minds of those who hear her tale, they become real as long as people can still envision them and allow them to traverse generations. Perhaps, if reality is only what we perceive it to be, like with illusions of rainbows and playmates, then all that is real is how people perceive the world around them, providing a glimmer of hope for Doe and for all Croatian children of future generations.

          All there is, was, and ever shall be are our perceptions, so as long as we can remember the past and retain hope for a better future, our world will be all that we can imagine it to be, illusions, rainbows, and reality be damned.

Short Film Corner

PRE-BLOG NOTE: I realized this was a repeat, sort of, of something I've already posted. I'm not deleting it. I'm catching up on blogging for about a week of prolonged internet starvation and it's making my brain crazy. It's hard to remember what I've posted or not posted about. Sooooo, I made some changes/additions that you will have to read this post for if you are interested in seeing them... or you can just skip the post and move on to some of my other reviews. Unless you just want a summary of the Short Film Corner at Cannes, in which case, go right ahead.

I took a trip to the Short Film Corner the last Friday of the festival, although not intentionally at first. Natalie and I missed the first film we wanted to see, With Love... In The Age of Reason, because I thought I knew a shortcut. I led us all around the back ways of the Palais and Riviera; at one point we wound up in a part of the building that just had a bunch of offices and elevators that did not take us anywhere we needed to go. After much wandering we finally found the theater, but by the time we got there it was at full capacity. Oops. So anyway, after we tried the theater and failed on my account we decided to salvage the morning by checking out the Short Film Corner downstairs in the Palais. The SFC turned out to be pretty awesome. There was a row of booths with computers, and if you used your badge to log in, you had access to all the short films in competition and in the sub-categories and from each of the countries.

Strangest Short Film I Saw: "TO SWALLOW A TOAD" (Norway)

Just. Weird. The artwork was nice, kind of scratchy like it had been colored with colored pencils and then rubbed in something gray. I liked it. The plotline was real strange though, and I wasn't expecting it because the way it was marketed made it sound like some sort of crosstown rivalry between people with round heads vs. those with square heads. What actually happened was this kid got his ear ripped off and his parents made him swallow a toad. What. And then the parents went to the kitchen cabinet, which was full of toads, and ate some toads themselves. What. And then some punk-ass kids stormed in and built a giant wall separating two halves of their house, taking over the larger side. What. And then at the end, the toad-eaters crawled down in the sewers to eat all the toads, eventually growing into Godzilla-sized toads themselves, and proceeded to destroy the city and eat each other. What.

Best Short Film I Saw: "COOKED" (United Kingdom)

A walrus, a lobster and a seal all walk into a gym... starts the short film "Cooked" from UK director Jens Blank. The development of a love triangle keeps all the characters aiming to please, leading them to a steamy situation as they move out of the workout area and into the sauna. Centered on personal pride and insecurity, "Cooked" is an exploration of the awkwardness and trials predating relationships of every kind.

The Short Film Corner even had Happy Hour from 5-7, which was nice to stop by and eat some Haribo candy and get some free wine/beer. I also happened to meet several interesting people who were looking to hand out their cards to whoever would take them. I also met some short film producers and at least two aspiring actors. The SFCorner also had a couple of walls of nothing but tiny flyers advertising short films and film festivals around the word. We had to pick up a lot of promotional stuff for Jen's marketing class, so I wound up with handfuls of colorful flyers, some advertising great shorts and some not so much.

America's Next Top Embarrassment

Sometimes I feel like walking talking reality show for America, but mainly just like the hidden camera kind. Usually I feel like I am a participant on America's Next Top Embarrassment, which I just made up. This is kind of a big deal, I have to say. It consists of secretly videoing some awkward Americans in foreign countries and, depending on the scores they get, kicking the contestants off until only the most awkward is left. I don't know what the prize would be really, maybe just acknowledgment. Anyway, here is a scene from Season 1 Episode 1 of America's Next Top Embarrassment.

SCENE: Inside the Palais. There is a girl wandering the floors with a map looking for a theater called the "Bazin." She has approximately two minutes until her film starts.

Caitlyn: Excuse me, is this the Ba-zin?

Guard: Oui. Badge, sil-vous-plait?

She fumbles to show him her market badge which he quickly scans, motioning her inside. She walks through the theater doors and into complete darkness, as the lights have already fallen. As she searches the darkness, she widens her eyes all the way, trying to make them adjust to the blackness before her more quickly. A tiny light switches on and moves to her face.

Caitlyn (shielding her eyes and squinting): Oh, um, bon-jour...

Attendant: Ah, American... this way, please.

The attendant walks backwards, shining her flashlight on the ground before her to create a path of light for Caitlyn to follow. Caitlyn inches forward, putting one foot carefully and slowly in front of the other, not trusting her eyes to correctly reveal any bumps or changes in height of the carpet quickly enough for her to react in time.

Attendant: Here.

Caitlyn is still in the aisle about three feet farther back that she needs to be, looking for the guiding light on the ground but not finding it as the attendant has turned it off and remains the only pillar of direction in the flickering light of the opening credits of the film.

Caitlyn: Uh...

Attendant: Here. Here.

Caitlyn: Uh...

Caitlyn shuffles quickly to reach the aisle. She is still blind and the movie is starting. She puts her arms out in front to brace herself, but trips over someone's feet. She does not fall, but instead squishes herself between the knees of the man whose feet she tripped over and the seat directly in front of him.

Caitlyn: Oops! Sorry, uh... I mean, pardon. Excuse-moi.

Man: ...

Caitlyn: Desolee.

Caitlyn continues walking down the side aisle hoping to somehow feel her way towards an open seat without interrupting too many people from the start of the movie. She almost puts her hands up in front of her again to brac.... WHAM!

Caitlyn walks smack into a sloped wall. She stumbles backwards, shocked and confused... into the lap of the man she tripped over.

Caitlyn (whispering): Sorry! Ugh! I mean, desolee.

She scoots back over into the next seat. Turns out the row was only two seats wide, the shortest one in the entire theater. Caitlyn settles in, trying to quiet the crinkling of paper in her bag as she finds a place for it on the floor. It's time to watch the film.

REVIEW: Locked In The Theater

Title: Locked In

Director: Suri Krishnamma

Running Time: 111 minutes

Major Actors: Ben Barnes, Sarah Roemer, Eliza Dushku, Abby Steinman,

Helen Steinman, Clarke Peters

Locked In The Theater

          Both the failure and the victory of Locked In, directed by Suri Krishnamma, is the lack of likeability of the main character, Josh, played by Ben Barnes. Josh is a man who doesn’t know what he wants and is unable to completely commit to any one thing in his life. Through flashbacks, Krishnamma reveals critical moments in Josh’s life that lead up to the position he finds himself in at the present, but rather than draw us in emotionally and make us feel for the character’s plight, the use of flashbacks does almost the exact opposite.

          Josh cheats, he drinks, his arrogance crowds out the world, and he thinks only about himself. The more we see of his life, the sadder we feel for him, but the more we want to distance ourselves from him. Even sitting in the theater starts feeling like too much investment of our attention for a person who has done so little to deserve it. It comes as no surprise that Josh’s family also shares the same sentiments and his wife has already kicked him out of the house.

          As unbearable as his character is to behold, without his poor decisions and the drudgery that accompanies them, there would be no film at all. His conflict then becomes the audience’s, do we stay and watch the miserable mess of his life unfold as he tries to fix it with halfhearted attempts at putting other people first, or do we bail? Because, even though his troubles are the centerpiece of the film, without some level of entertainment, interest, or connection to Josh’s story, there is no point in staying in our seats to see it unfold.

          The message of the film about the importance of making emotional connections to the world around you is troubling and uncomfortable to ponder, but nonetheless a message that will stick. Although immediately transparent once stated the first time by Frank, a mystical character played by Clarke Peters, who appears out of the blue to try and help save Josh’s daughter, the twist at the end of the film drives the message home and gives it a more impactful manifestation.

         Several times throughout the film, Josh believes he is receiving phone calls and messages from the beyond from his daughter, who should be lying in the hospital bed unmoving and unable to respond to any environmental stimulation, much less make contact with the outside world. The movie becomes rife with confusion as we hear her voice, read her messages in the news tickers, and see the drawing she must have done at her bedside, despite her condition. The movie takes an almost supernatural turn and is only more muddled by the occasional reappearances of Frank, who comes with the same message each time he visits.

          The flow of the film was also compromised, which could have either been a ruse to reinforce the feeling of entrapment or simply the result of poorly timed reveals. The build of action in the beginning, when we discover his affair and watch as he slips away from his family into a life consumed by work and lust, gives way to long and ultimately stagnant moments that provide only repetition of earlier facts or character unveilings, such as the scene where two minutes are filmed of Josh and his wife smoking on a balcony.

          At the end of the film, it becomes apparent that Josh’s unlikability was the entire focus of the story all along and that it was necessary to dislike his character in order to fully grasp the punch of what the message was attempting to portray for all its cloaks and haphazardly constructed twists. The audience’s self-evaluation following the viewing of Locked In is a reaction many films strive for, but few accomplish. Though in the attempt to move beyond conventions set by the thriller genre Locked In became trapped in the flytrap of conventional props, such as entirely too convenient solutions and 180-degree plot twist, the end result redeems much of what had placed the film into the closet of unremarkable psychological thriller movies.

          Because of Josh’s inability to make one true, strong emotional connection, he became trapped. He was a boat adrift in the ocean with no sight of shore, no anchor, and nothing to hold on to. For Josh, it was too little too late, but we as viewers have the opportunity to reevaluate our lives and reconsider what we determine are the most important things in them. Instead of wallowing in self-deprecation and self-pity, we must rise up and take control of improving our own lives. As Frank restates several times throughout the film before disappearing into a cloud of mist, “Only you have the power to save yourself.”

REVIEW: Comets Aren't The Only Things Attracted To Moominvalley

Title: Moomins and the Comet Chase

Directors: Maria Lindberg

Running Time: 75 minutes

Major Actors: Alexander Skarsgard, Helena Mattsson, Peter Starmore

Comets Aren’t the Only Things Attracted to Moominvalley

          Coupling the familiar comic characters of the Moomins world with newer 3D technology, Maria Lindberg’s film, Moomins and the Comet Chase, provides a blend of past and future, hope and despair, humor and confusion.

          While a background in the history of the Moomins saga would be helpful for a deeper understanding of the characters’ identities and how they interact with one another in the story, Lindberg provides just enough exposition to get new fans through the film without too many unanswered questions, although they may miss some references or jokes pertaining to previous Moomins history.

          The major success of Moomins and the Comet Chase can be found in its integration of 3D in the explanation of the workings of space. Here, 3D technology is not just used as a novelty, but as an enhancing feature in the explanation of a major point in the plot of the film, how the world beyond our own Earth can be affected by powers out of our control. With the use of 3D technology, the characters can each show an accurate representation of rotation and revolution of the planets in our solar system as well as the orbit of all other astral bodies with only a teapot, a few rolls of bread, and a healthy imagination. The depth in the field of vision that 3D provides for children grants ease and accessibility in comprehending the scientific basis of the film while later allowing them to recall the images in more detail and with more understanding.

            3D also worked for the film by granting a higher degree of realism to the characters, like if you could just reach your hands out far enough you would feel the texture of the plush puppet creatures dancing before you on the screen. The set was even constructed with a number of stacked, painted layers, instead of being digitally fabricated, in order to round out the feel of the Moomins world and maintain a level of continuity between the characters and their surroundings.

            Even though the world is uniquely handcrafted and a sight to behold in 3D, the design alone does not distract from the meandering subplots that occupy the focus of a majority of the film.

              Moomintroll (Alexander Skarsgard) the main character of the film, is on a journey to seek out the advice of the astronomers who live in the observatory at the top of the mountain after he wakes one morning to find a layer of ash covering the entire valley and his neighbor, Mr. Muskrat, tells him a comet on a set course to collide with Earth will destroy all life.

            A heavy and dark topic for any child to confront, some parents may find it a relief that the story sidetracks to focus on a series of rendezvous with a number of characters Moomintroll meets along the way, but it is at this point in the film that Lindberg loses the edge that made Moomins and the Comet Chase a provocative reflection on the event of a natural apocalypse. Instead, quite aberrant of the style of the film up to this point, the story diverts its message to the themes of greed, vanity, irresponsibility, and consequences as Moomintroll concentrates his attention on the presence of the lovely, yet vain, Snork maiden (Helena Mattsson) and the impending comet collision is completely forgotten.

            As a children’s film, Moomins and the Comet Chase avoids the most depressing aspects of a comet collision and the implications it addresses. The lightheartedness with which is does so is surprisingly direct and refreshing. Thoughts such as, “If you are going to be struck by a comet, the nicer thing would be to be at home,” and, “Everyone is running from the comet, even the Hattifatteners. Comets must be very lonely,” spread through the film and charm the audience to the attitudes and lifestyles of the Moomins living in Moominvalley.

            The Moomins are so charming that even the shopkeeper they meet bends her rules to let them enjoy treasures from her shop, though the practices she follows teach questionable mathematics to children who may mistake her dry talk for serious logic.

            Moomins and the Comet Chase is an old tale that, revived and reanimated today, still finds relevance and importance in a culture that is increasingly more informed about space and our small plot of real estate in the universe. While indulgent in clinging to the same narrative frame of the Moomin books, the film is magical and endearing in the way it captures the hearts of its audiences and emphasizes the need to focus on the important things in life, such as home, family and love when faced with troubles that seem out of this world.

Oh Hai, James Franco!

Why hello, there!

I like that my face just says, "What? I'm I really here? Is this real life?" We went to a talk today about Short Films in America and James Franco happened to be on the panel. Prone to stalking anyway, I suggested to Natalie that we just follow him around and see where he was going, so we did that until we got the artists' entrance at the Palais and Natalie had a sudden burst of courage. It was almost surreal. She just went up and tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around a little confused, but smiling, and she asked if he would take a picture with her.

I was just standing a little further back with my badge, trying to pretend to be all casual like I was just waiting to get through the artists' entrance but I guess my face looked less than casual after Natalie just ran up there and touched James Franco. The girl with J.Franco was all cool, "Yeah, you want me to take it?" and then she turned to me and was all confused, "Do you two know each other?" and so I was all awkward, "Yeah, my friends will be so jealous," which didn't actually answer the question which might be why he only has one of his fingers on my shoulder and a whole hand on Natalie since he may have thought I was unstable or just jumping in some girl's picture for the kicks of being in a picture with him. Whatever. Awkwardness knows no borders.

I saw a cool flick about Moomins today. It blew my mind a little. There was a scene where they are trying to buy stuff from a store while they are in the middle of rushing back home because the comet is coming to destroy the Earth, anyway, the shopkeeper totaled up their stuff and told them the cost and all of Moomintroll's companions realized they had no money so they were all like, "Oh. We don't have money. I guess we have to return all this stuff," but the shopkeeper just took back Snuffkin's pants and said that the cost of the pants equaled the cost of the other purchases so they were even. Even that logic didn't make sense to Moomintroll who said, "Can that be right?" But no one wanted to argue, least of all Snorkmaiden who really wanted her mirror, so they just decided to leave it at that and take the rest of their treasures. Mind. Blowing.

Tried to go to the beach, but only made as far as the gelato stand. It was too windy anyway. I'm ready for the hot weather I packed for, Juan.

Five French Hens

I have a desperate need to change up my blogging style. I'll catch up eventually, but as it stands I'm already three days behind and I don't have enough time with the internet cutting out every five minutes to make long posts only to have them not save. So, instead of talking about movies, I'm going to tell you some things about France. I will tell you five things about France.

#1 - Master Burger
First off, Master Burger is amazing. They have sandwiches of all kinds and fries and kebabs and sometimes they even give us some of those things for free if we go in big groups. The best thing about Master Burger is that they have a sandwich called an "American" which is on a long baguette and consists of two hamburger patties, cheese, ketchup, mayonnaise, and fries. Yes, in the sandwich. I will take a picture (not that I can upload it soon though) to show you later, but just trust me, it's the most delicious thing ever. Also, it smells like America, which is alternately fascinating and disturbing. You take a whiff and it's like, "ZOMG. This is really an American." Sometimes though, when people are talking in a large group and you can't exactly hear all of the words they say and they're talking about Master Burger all you hear is "Master Bu..." and you can only imagine the level of startlement and head turning that gets.

#2 - Crepes
I think they drug the crepe batter to keep you coming back for more. I've only been here for about a week and a half and I'm already addicted. I feel like a pigeon whenever I see a sign for a Creperie. I get very alert and excited and my head pops up and I start walking around all jumpy-like. You can get them with Nutella if you want a delicious treat, or you can get them with ham and eggs and cheese for breakfast. You can get them with sugar and you can get them with fruit or confiture (jelly). You literally can eat them in a box and you could figuratively eat them with a fox, or literally if you could find one near the beach that is.

#3 - Four Things The French Do Really Well
A. Design beautiful towns and cities. Everything looks like they put time into thinking, "Will this look good if I put it here?" before going through with any construction. Also, lots of palm trees helps probably.
B. Drive through traffic. Especially in regard to taxi drivers, who weave in and out of cars like it's nobody's business and never look back.
C. Make baked goods. The pain au chocolate (this flaky bread pastry thing that has chocolate on the inside) and croissant amande (no idea, but it's delicious) are heavenly.
D. Roundabouts. America should have more of them. From the airport in Nice to the hotel in Juan les Pins, I don't believe we passed through any traffic lights just because there were so many roundabouts. Everything went a lot faster and traffic was much less of a problem.

#4 - Four Things The French Don't Do Very Well
A. Clean up after their dogs. There is dog poop everywhere on the streets in JLP and Cannes. People just can't be bothered or they are taken by surprise I suppose, though I find it hard to believe that after having a dog for so long you could be surprised when they start pooping on the streets. They even have these fancy boxes for you to deposit the whole mess in, but no one uses them.
B. Trash cans. I find that there are a lack of trash cans when I need them most. All the time I'm trying to throw stuff away and there's nowhere to put it. On a related note, recycling. Except in a central part of Cannes, I haven't seen anyone recycle at all. It's a bit bothersome.
C. Internet Access. It makes me very irritated to think about it right now, but let's just say the intertubes here act like they are just little dial up lines. Only worse because they disconnect me and I can't even eavesdrop on people's conversations.
D. Schedules. I'm not quite sure this is a con, but it can be frustrating at times. You never know when stuff is going to be open or closed. You could try to go to the post office three times a day and it will never be open. Same with food stands. You may want a crepe, but you sure aren't going to get one if you go at noon. Or at five. Or at nine. Or ever. Or on Sundays. Or on Monday evenings from six to ten.

#5 - One Thing Cannes Has That No One Else Does
Thuesday. Yesterday was Thuesday according to the official Cannes Film Festival Pocket Guide. Thuesday was a pretty good day, all things considered, and even if it wasn't it was still Thuesday, so there you go. "Can't complain, it's Thuesday today guys." I think I may celebrate it every year.

REVIEW: Movie About Cannibals Leaves Audience Hungry For More

Title: Somos Lo Que Hay (We Are What We Are)

Director: Jorge Michel Grau

Running Time: 99 minutes

Major Actors: Humberto Yáñez, Carmen Beato, Paulina Gaitan, Francisco Barreiro,

Miguel Angel Hoppe, Octavio Michel, Daniel Gimenez Chacho

Movie About Cannibals Leaves Audience Hungry For More?

     Somos Lo Que Hay, directed by Jorge Michel Grau, depicts a family of cannibals’ struggle to survive following the shocking event of their Papá’s death. While the actors and actresses give depth and vivacity to their characters through the variation in their methods of dealing with the loss of their sole provider, the plotline itself does not afford the same complexity to its audiences. What begins as a curiously dark tale full of chilling perseverance ends as a scrambling bloodbath in a dark basement. Though some mysteries are best left unanswered, when gaping holes remain in more than just the bodies on the screen, as such is the case in Somos Lo Que Hay, it is certain to leave audiences with little to chew on.

      Papá, played by Humberto Yáñez, first staggers onto the screen dirty, ignored and unshakably transfixed by the mannequins posed in the mall’s display windows. When he falls to the ground in a mess of his own inky vomit, he is quickly dragged away by mall security. Pedestrians walk over the pavement where Papá’s body falls just moments after a janitor mops his blood off the sidewalk. The silence and efficiency with which the authorities in charge deal with Papá, the quick removal of his body out of sight from the rest of the world, and the wide shots that linger on the spot of his death remove the social responsibility of mourning from passersby and shift it to the audience, drawing us into the story and perhaps becoming more invested in the film than we may have been otherwise.

     After we enter Papá’s house and the lives of his wife and children, the revelation that Papá and his family are regularly practicing cannibals is shocking and feels like a betrayal. We are forced to reevaluate their actions and feelings in the context that they are monsters, but the task is difficult when we have already felt this family’s pain and identified with them as humans. This juxtaposition set up by Grau only deepens as the movie continues, forcing us to look inside our own consciences and morality as we slip deeper into their world.

Sabine, played by Paulina Gaitan, convinces her brothers Alfredo and Gustavo, played by Francisco Barreiro and Miguel Angel Hoppe, that Alfredo should be the natural leader to take over in the absence of Papá since he is the oldest, though she is the one who ultimately provides all the direction for their plan of action. When they bring back a whore, we watch in horror as Mamá, played by Carmen Beato, beats her face in and dumps her mutilated body back at the whores’ corner as a lesson for all to view.

     The emotional distance we feel from Mamá and her violent passions changes however with Grau’s introduction of the two bumbling buddy cops Teniente and Tito, played by Octavio Michel and Daniel Gimenez Chacho. When their curtains call, the mood in the audience is lightened considerably; there are even cheers, laughter, and applause as we watch their bodies diced by Mamá’s large machete. The following deaths in the film seem laughable, even unimportant. We have sided with the cannibals; we have joined the camp of outcasts, distancing ourselves and our emotions from their victims pain as they have learned to do so that we may laugh at their fate instead of cry.

But still, a question remains… why? Why is it so imperative that Papá’s family practice cannibalism? What is the urgency when they can run down to the supermarket and pick up a slab of ground beef if they really need their red meat? Thus enters the mention of a ritual, and so begins the set-up for the letdown when the film concludes and the major question is still left unanswered as the credits begin to roll.

     Vague details about the ritual are peppered throughout the film, including Mamá’s repetition that at least one of them must survive to finish the ritual after police discover their basement and invade their house. Again, as no characters provide the audience a sturdy foundation of reasoning for the bare facts offered up about the ritual, we are left in the dark instead of being brought into the community we have invested in with our time, money, and emotions; Gaul leaves us outsiders to the whole affair when we most need to be included.

     As the family is eliminated one by one, we still find ourselves siding opposite the police. There is still tension and apprehension enough to hear a collective intake of breath from the theater seats as we watch the police shoot Gustavo, as we sense our neighbor’s fingers tightening on the wooden armrests as we prepare to see Sabine meet her doom while hoping she somehow escapes, but we are not a part of them any longer. Grau separates us from their world by the sheer fact that he will only allow us to graze the surface of it while he withholds the importance details about why the ritual is important, if it is necessary, why someone must stay alive to complete it, and if they could have sought a different path than the one they followed through to the end.

     Somos Lo Que Hay provides a glimpse into an alternate culture much different from our own. While the film allows us to momentarily delve into the grimy world of cannibalism, it leaves too large a gap in the heart of the story to allow us to retain the deep connection with the characters that Grau sets up in the beginning and continues through the middle of the story. If the characters themselves were unsure why they were participating in the ritual, perhaps the story could have been different since we would end up in the same place at the conclusion of the film. Instead, we are left on the outside looking wistfully into Sabine’s eyes instead of through them, more like Papa’s mannequins trapped behind the glass.

Cannes This Festival Get Any More Amazing? (Part Three)

I took a trip to the Short Film Corner on Friday, although not intentionally at first. Natalie and I missed the first film we wanted to see, With Love... In The Age of Reason, because I thought I knew a shortcut. I led us all around the back ways of the Palais and Riviera; at one point we wound up in a part of the building that just had a bunch of offices and elevators that did not take us anywhere we needed to go. After much wandering we finally found the theater, but by the time we got there it was at full capacity. Oops. So anyway, after we tried the theater and failed on my account we decided to salvage the morning by checking out the Short Film Corner downstairs in the Palais. The SFC turned out to be pretty awesome. I need to go back, I just haven't had the time. There was a row of booths with computers and if you used your badge to log in you had access to all the short films in competition and in the sub-categories.

Strangest Short Film I've Seen Yet: "TO SWALLOW A TOAD" (Norway)
Just. Weird. The artwork was nice, kind of scratchy like it had been colored with colored pencils and then rubbed in something gray. I liked it. The plotline was real strange though and I wasn't expecting it because the way it was marketed made it sound like some sort of crosstown rivalry between people with round heads vs. those with square heads. What actually happened was this kid got his ear ripped off and his parents made him swallow a toad. There was more to it than that, but I may do a film review on it, so I'll leave it for now.

Best Short Film I've Seen Yet: "COOKED" (United Kingdom)
A walrus, a lobster and a seal all walk into a gym... starts the short film "Cooked" from UK director Jens Blank. The development of a love triangle keeps all the characters aiming to please, leading them to a steamy situation as they move out of the workout area and into the sauna. Centered on personal pride and insecurity, "Cooked" shows us what happens when our egos block our senses and refuse to give way to our true feelings hiding beneath the surface.

DISCLAIMER: I feel like this blog is just me discussing snippets of the movies I have seen, but that's really all I've been doing for the festival, so sorry if this is a bit boring for any of you, but I've got not much else. Now, onward!

Protektor was our first feature film of the day. It was a Czech film about a man who took a job as a radio personality for the major Nazi wavelength in Prague in order to protect his film star wife, who was a Jew. The music and the cinematography were edgy and brought out the intensity and sadness of the film, but the actual action? Kind of boring after the first half, honestly. Turns out the guy just wanted the fame, oh, and also to cheat on his wife while she was forced to stay locked up in the house all day long. Jana Plodkova, the wife, did a brilliant job with her role, and her character was the best one to watch on screen because she did things other than whine and give boring monologues, like when she decided to go break all the regulations imposed on her and take pictures of her doing it in public. Her parts were good, though the rest of it put me to sleep.

I don't know if it was leftover sleepiness from Protektor which make me nod off a few times during the beginning of Chingquong Blues or if it was the extremely gray, long scenes at the start which did me in, but it wasn't until about thirty minutes in that the story really picked up. The story itself was one of the most intriguing of the films I've seen lately. It's about a man trying to figure out the events surrounding his son's death since he's been away at sea. Sometimes the story is told in flashbacks from the witnesses and sometimes it picks up with the father himself. The Cannes judges gave the film a mere 2.5 out of 5 stars, but I would have at least given it a 4. Well, maybe a 3.5. But it was one of the best films I've seen the whole time I've been in Cannes.

Remember when I said I met that director guy while getting a ticket for Robin Hood? We - me, Natalie and Brian - all went to see his movie next. It was called 2B and was about the first artificial woman created to eventually herald in a new race of transbemans so that the human follies of greed, hate, and envy would not bring us to the brink of destruction or another holocaust. It was so awkward. Natalie left to see something better about halfway through. A lot of the lines sounded like they belonged in a porno, and they even lifted the main line from George Carlin's Seven Dirty Words. The sets seemed to come straight out of a 90's daytime soap opera as well as the lighting techniques, but I'm hazarding a guess that they were on a low budget. I may also review this film sometime in the future so I'll stop here, but I'm just going to say it once more for now... transbemans.

I shouldn't have seen Letters to God. The movie was very cheesy at times and probably targeted towards a younger audience, but it still got to me all the same. A boy sends letters in the mail to God because he has brain cancer. For those of you who knew Ryan Morgan, you can imagine how difficult it was to sit through that movie. It did a good job of taking a depressing topic and trying to keep the situation light and normal, but it was still painful and I had to go to the bathroom after it was over to compose myself before dinner with Victor.

I got to introduce Victor to a few other people in our group. He was a big hit. He even said he might have a ticket or two to give me and Natalie for the You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger premier.