Toronto Dispatch. 4.

Some people get stuck between a rock and a hard place. Others between the Devil and the deep blue sea. Myself, at the 2007 Toronto International Film Festival, I'm stuck somewhere between the Masters and the Discovery programs, keen to the breadth of the selection, where first-time directors reveal promising vision and seasoned filmmakers hold onto or sometimes lose grip of their own.

Shall we start with the Masters? I've heard disgruntlements with Béla Tarr's The Man From London; but, for my money (fortunately, not found in a valise), this lustrous film is the most accessible of Tarr's films I've seen. Based on Georges Simenon's novel, The Man From London configures suspense as a question of faith. It measures the gradations and degradations one is willing to indulge to escape the banal dissatisfactions of everyday life. And it assigns the spiritual task of recognizing that it is in the performance of our everyday tasks that our radiance shines through. Our protagonist, Maloin (Miroslav Krobot), hasn't yet achieved that recognition and - as a consequence - is irremediably tempted by an unexpected windfall; namely, a suitcase full of stolen money.

Tarr assures me the resemblance of this plot device to that used by the Coen Brothers in No Country For Old Men is completely coincidental, though contributing to that coincidence is that I watched both films back to back. Man From London's black and white cinematography and sinuous camera movements shimmer with brilliance as they maneuver confined spaces. My only complaint might be that hearing Tilda Swinton dubbed in Hungarian pulled me right out of the film, though it's clear why her high cheekbones and beseeching eyes were cast. Visually, she contributes to Béla Tarr's ongoing quest for a pure cinema of meta-narratives expressed through the eyes, the greatest storytellers of all.

Hector Babenco reminds us of the past in more ways than one in his recent El Pasado (The Past). Primarily he reminds us that he's not making films like Pixote and The Kiss of the Spider Woman anymore; and isn't that a shame? Instead, we have a confusing, tiresome narrative about the indivisibility of memory. An interesting enough premise in and of itself that is worn down by the weight of not knowing when to say enough is enough. Towards the end of this film audience members, were groaning each time a new scene appeared on the screen. Our protagonist, as played by Gael García Bernal, gave a much more interesting performance on Bay Street hailing a cab.

Shifting to the vast, war-pocked countryside of Kazakhstan, Volker Schlöndorff's Ulzhan offers a tale of Charles Simon (Phillipe Torreton), a man unable to bear the grief of having lost wife and child, who wants simply to disappear. Abandoning his identity as civilization has constructed it, Charles seeks to lose himself and his wounded soul in the Central Asian steppes. To speed his journey along, he buys a horse from Ulzhan (Ayanat Ksenbai), a young school teacher who recognizes the countenance of Death on Charles's face. She can't stand by and do nothing, so she does everything she can to thwart his determination to disappear, going so far as to accompany him to the edge of the abyss. Though their journey is a bit protracted, it is nonetheless a vital and intriguing one. Phillipe Torreton is handsome in his lost faith even as Ayanat Ksenbai is beautiful in her wealth of spirit. Along the way they meet a "word merchant," Shakuni played by David Bennent, the child actor in Schlöndorff's acclaimed The Tin Drum, who survives off the generosity of nomads.

Hou Hsiao-hsien's lyrical and profound Flight of the Red Balloon studies the invisible craft behind art. Not only how puppeteers must keep out of sight to make a puppet show work (the final puppet show during the end credits is like a thesis proved true) but in a brave and wry reveal, he shows how he creates the illusion of the red balloon hovering above the lives of Suzanne (Juliette Binoche), her son Simon (Simon Iteanu) and Song (Song Fang), the Asian woman she hires to mind Simon. The balloon's gentle sentience seems at times to be connected to Simon's imagination, and at other times to Song's calming influence on Suzanne's overwhelming life. Throughout the film, Hou balances cool and warm colors, as if to balance happy and sad moments, between which lives are lived. Binoche is completely winning as a mother overwhelmed by both practical and creative responsibilities.

Another engaging performance is provided by Galina Vishnevskaya in Alexander Sokurov's Alexandra, wherein a lonely grandmother visits a grandson she has not seen in seven years. He has become a war captain stationed in Chechnya, and though at first he is delighted by his grandmother's visit, her disregard of military pride and protocol draws into focus the folly of his commitment to war. Throughout the film, Sokurov shows us the eyes of young soldiers as they respond to the presence of an old woman and they are the eyes of boys bewildered and angered by circumstances they cannot control. As she wanders through the military camp and then the nearby town, Alexandra's presence instills a desire for an old way of life where children respected and took care of their grandmothers, combing and braiding their grey hair.

Shifting to the Discovery titles, I've seen four with one final film to be seen tomorrow morning. I've written at length about Tamar van den Dop's Blind, wherein a wintry landscape becomes the white canvas upon which love is envisioned. Blind's beautiful lensing elevates this film above its somewhat conventional love story, patterned after "The Snow Queen" by Hans Christian Andersen.

In the face of the many questions that arise in response to escalating violence in the world, Gonzalo López-Gallego's El Rey de la Montaña (King of the Hill) impressed me for not providing any ready answers. Its irresolution is refreshing. Quim (Leonardo Sbaraglia) finds himself led into a perverse "game" of being hunted. The twist is: by whom. Recalling Deliverance and The Naked Prey, Quim and his mysterious companion Bea (María Valverde) are forced to survive in an isolated Spanish mountain range. Quim becomes a modern everyman cut from dark broadcloth, fueled by fear and overwhelmed by rage. Tightly edited, the film achieves a claustrophobic panic as Quim and Bea's adversaries zoom in for the kill.

Paranoia and suspense likewise pervade Rodrigo Plá's feature directing debut La Zona, which has already garnered acclaim at the Venice Film Festival. Experienced through the teenage sensibility of Alejandro (Daniel Tovar), his privileged life in a gated, guarded community is called into question when three young men from the abject ghetto of the surrounding city break over the wall into La Zona. What ensues is an examination of lives under constant surveillance in an atmosphere of fear and distrust and the rule of mob mentality. It's like Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" for the Mexican middle class with a touch of Invasion of the Body Snatchers thrown in to keep you running from your neighbors. Performances are solid and convincing all around with the welcome appearance of Maribel Verdú (last seen in Pan's Labyrinth) as Alejandro's mother Mariana.

Finally, saving the worst for last, Shamim Sarif's The World Unseen is a manipulative piece of lipstick lesbianism set in 1952 Capetown. Its sentiments are valid, even if they are used to bully the audience with knowing looks tossed between actors and one of the most obtrusive musical scores I've ever heard, thundering over a predictable script. As if that weren't enough, adagios are waved in to insist you weep. I must admit that Lisa Ray and Sheetal Sheth are lovely to look at, especially when their lips are trembling inches away from each other; but, that isn't the kind of discovery I was hoping to find.

Posted by dwhudson at September 13, 2007 12:55 AM