One day, one Festival, three and a half films, and one argument.
The Locarno Film Festival is well known internationally. It has been ongoing for 74 editions, and the location definitely adds to the exceptional experience. Sitting outdoors facing a gigantic screen framed by beautiful houses, and watch outstanding films under a starry sky in the Piazza Grande is priceless. Often, one has the chance to walk by some filmmaker or actor, or writer, and many film lovers.
Whenever I go to a film festival, my goal is to find films that do not flatly represent the structure of the hero’s voyage, I grew bored of it. Along the hero comes a buddy to speak out his thoughts and motivations and external events are arranged to trigger actions and emotions so he can solve his intimate issues while saving the day, or even the world. I am oversimplifying, of course. I like stories that take me by the hand and lead me through sensations and experiences that are not so predictable. I can’t stand most big mainstream productions anymore. Even superheroes are not surprising anyone anymore. Yet on Sunday I was mystified by a Philippino teenage immigrant in Greece, a multi-layered gossip and loyalty stricken back alley with spaghetti-western-fellinian characters in Amman, and even, although to a lesser degree, by a young adult in NYC. They all do surprise me and lead me to believe I still have a lot to learn, and they keep me guessing and second-guessing and never quite come to a solution.
In the past few years, I missed the Festival quite a few times. This year, I literally threw myself in the opportunity to spend a whole day in Locarno. I pulled along my partner and a friend from childhood. We sat together in the morning and choose 3 films to watch and — COVID19 oblige — we had to make reservations for each one of them in advance as seats have to be spaced.
We saw three full films and tested the fourth. Alas, notwithstanding its quality and style: Gerard Noé’s Vortex consistently innovates in all fields, narrative, cut, production, and even the choice of actors with Françoise Lebrun and Dario Argento as main characters. We were too tired to go for another two hours after midnight. Although watching two subjectivities in two squares go about their lives in connected and yet disconnected ways was fascinating.
We had arrived in Locarno in the early afternoon, quickly found a free parking space, and went on a ride with google maps to find the PalaCinema, which obviously was super easy. Check-in with tickets and masks, and here we are, sitting in a lovely midsized movie theatre with state-of-the-art armchairs and video and sound equipment.
The first film — Holy Emy (Agia Emy) by Araceli Lemos, script by Giulia Caruso, 2021. Greece and the Philippines.
From the first image we are flung in the midst of the life of two marginalized teenage girls working for the fish market in a Greek seaside city. They are from the Philippines, the mother is far away or missing, and the older one soon gets pregnant. She wants to hide it from the tight-knit Christian Philippino community, and the mother, in a strange way, tells her through a video call that they don’t need a father. The younger, Emy, has a very peculiar subjective perception of the world. She sheds tears of blood, and this moves everyone in her community, some to mystical heights and some to fear of the Devil. She doesn’t want to get baptized because her mother was a healer. Another healer is in town and lives in the home of a well-off elderly greek lady. The whole story can be read as an experience in psychopathology. It also makes me think of Frantz Fanon. He considered mental health to be damaged by colonization when the meaning/order of the world is scrambled. Tagalog has many Spanish words, and the Christian values are hardly considered original for the Philippines. The opposition Jesus/Devil — that the Philippino Christian community fears — may not have a correspondence in the traditional pre-colonial culture, which is probably more in tune with the healing powers the youngest sister believes to have. The whole film is a bit hard on the senses with gunk and very close-up scenes of very intimate moments. The actresses are terrific in their roles, never overplaying any scene. There is no re-solution and not even redemption. This also means the director and the writer are not judging, and I find it refreshing.
Actual People, by Kit Zahuar, 2020. Produced in the USA. The camera follows a young woman in her last months as a university student in New York; as she puts it “in a few weeks, I will be an adult” which troubles her. She is figuring out what moves her, and we see her give a lot of importance to relationships. The director herself is playing the main character. There are many close-ups, and maybe I am old school, and I like landscapes and theatrical scenes, so it was a bit too dermatological for my taste. Still, close-up works here because the subjectivity of the main character is the core of the story. This story unfolds thanks to emotions finding expression and also being heard and received. There’s an ending, and it is not tragic. As I went with my partner who’s a psychiatrist and a friend who’s a psychologist they made it their duty to explain the difference between psychosis, which could be the case of Emy in the first film, and neurosis, as is probably the case of Riley: she is depressed, goes through various states and emotions that help her evolve and learn. And kudos for making this very entertaining film with a microbudget under 10’000 $.
The Alleys, by Bassel Ghandour, 2021. Jordan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar. This is a whirling thriller in the back-alleys of East Amman, Jordan’s capital. Characters are human and folkloric at the same time. They appear very vulnerable and exaggerated. Violence and existence are rich in emotions and contrasts. There are scenes and a maze of stories that follow the maze of the alleys, and there are the roofs and abandoned buildings where things still happen. The bad boy has a sweet spot and he’s possibly the most honest character in the whole film, and the romantic lover can turn into a gangster. As Giona Nazzaro, the Festival art director, says, this is “A film destined to change the perception of Middle East cinema. Because the streets of East Amman are also our streets, in the end.” I concur. This story could be situated in any large city with back alleys and its own many layers of gossip, truths and loyalty.
Who are the heroes in these films? The only one that could be described by the script-blueprint taught in most writing courses is “Actual People” and yet, not quite. Riley is not really a hero, she’s is saving herself in a way though, but is she doing it intentionally? Who knows. What I like about this story, and most stories in film and literature, is that they don’t judge and don’t give any solution. They simply observe, with a benevolent gaze and point out at peculiarities here and there. But they don’t judge.
Is Holy Emy a hero? She does save her sister’s baby, but is this reality or is it her subjectivity depicting reality through a different sensibility? In the Alleys, those who survive I reckon are all heroes, and one can follow many different stories at different levels.
Let’s be grateful that we can still watch and exchange stories from so many different places and different narrative styles.
