Solitude is the name of the game in Ole Giæver’s Out of Nature, a film that burrows deep inside the head of its central character. Martin (Giæver, doing triple duty as writer/director/star) is first seen staring at an old man across his office window in another building, wondering what the man’s life must be like. Martin wonders about his own life, and how, now in his 30’s, he’s not too far off from reaching his 60’s. The scene sets the stage for what’s to come, with the large bulk of the film comprising Martin narrating his vain, silly and bizarre inner thoughts. Giæver’s writing, while feeling specific to his own experiences (the fact that he plays Martin makes the film come across as autobiographical), is strong enough to make his own unfiltered musings feel universal. It’s hard not to find something relatable in the way his thoughts flitter back and forth from one extreme to the next, or how often he impulsively thinks the sort of stuff that could never be said aloud.

At the beginning, Out of Nature shows promise in its portrayal of the minutiae of everyday life. Martin appears to be the definition of an average, middle class citizen, except he doesn’t feel too comfortable in his own skin. He has a hard time relating to coworkers, and his relationships with his wife and son seem ordinary. From the looks of it, Martin’s biggest problem is boredom with his own life. His humdrum existence drives him into planning a weekend camping trip on his own. Martin’s wife and son, who apparently forgot about his trip, say goodbye with a shrug, and Martin heads off to the woods.

With no one around him, Martin delves further into the sorts of questions that quietly nag at him every day. He wonders if he should leave his wife and quit his job. He thinks about what kind of father he’ll be to his son. He also thinks about sex quite a bit, mainly the temptation of living the life of a bachelor again. At one point he fondly remembers his younger days, going out every weekend to get drunk and lucky. The situation he describes doesn’t exactly sound great; he’d frequently go to a girl’s place, be too drunk to perform and wind up heading back home.

Martin’s memory gets to the core of what Out of Nature touches on, mainly the feeling of boredom one gets with stability. All of Martin’s fantasies and ponderings are fueled by the need for a change within his own life. Most of Martin’s issues come from a hesitancy to settle into the life he’s made for himself, as he keeps wondering if he’s denying himself something better. Of course, these sorts of thoughts are common with most people, or at least with men. Martin’s decision to spend the weekend surrounded by nature clearly stems from issues with his own masculinity, and a need to feel in control of his own life.

These ideas certainly aren’t boring, but like Martin they’re pretty ordinary. It’s hard to watch Out of Nature without feeling the strong amount of privilege running through it. At first, Martin’s blathering maintains some interest, but by the end of Out of Nature’sbrief runtime, it’s hard to not think it’s nothing more than a well-off white guy whining about his first world problems. Giæver knows what to say. He just doesn’t know how to work with his material to make a particularly good spin on something that’s been touched on for ages.

Nevertheless, Giæver tries his best. He never tries to make Martin a likable or sympathetic character, offsetting the inherently self-involved nature by routinely humiliating Martin. This extends to Giæver himself, who shows no qualms about baring all. An early scene where a hunter catches Martin masturbating by a tree is made even funnier by just how far Giæver takes things. That sort of disarming level of frankness only goes so far, though. Eventually, Martin meets a young woman on the last night of his trip, and by this point it’s easy to figure out exactly where Out of Nature will wind up once the credits roll. Out of Nature does a good job showing the inside of someone’s mind. Wanting to stay in that person’s head is a whole other story.

If Vic + Flo Saw A Bear could be summed up in one word, it would be “peculiar”. The film opens with a young boy and his friend playing the trumpet poorly, a fact that Victoria (Pierrette Robitaille) immediately makes them aware of. “You can’t expect people to give you money if you don’t know how to play,” she tells them. One of them responds with “You could still give us money just to encourage us”, leading to an immediate cut to Victoria walking away. The fast-paced, percussive soundtrack doesn’t fit what’s on screen, and the abridged credits (first names are initial only, meaning Robitaille is credited as “P. Robitaille”) just add on to the bizarre mood established from the outset.

Victoria is recently out on parole, and she comes to her uncle’s house only to discover he’s paralyzed. A teenage boy from the area is taking care of him, but Vic sends him off once she arrives. Besides periodic visits from her parole officer (Marc-André Grondin), it’s a mostly quiet existence. That is until Florence (Romane Bohringer), Victoria’s prison girlfriend (she just finished serving her time), shows up and the two rekindle their romance. Director Denis Côté introduces Flo by not introducing her at all; a shot of Victoria looking bored cuts to the two women fooling around with each other under some blankets. Flo’s entrance speaks to the way Côté creates a film that’s completely unpredictable. Florence seemingly comes into existence the moment she appears on screen, and this feeling of things happening exactly as they occur extends to the rest of the film.

Côté’s skills at establishing his film’s universe provides much of Vic + Flo Saw A Bear’s enjoyment. The way Côté frames his characters, usually in very deliberate poses that imply a boxing in of some sort, communicates Vic and Flo’s mental state. Both women, despite being surrounded by wilderness, are still trapped. Victoria’s past crimes (we never know why either woman went to jail, but it doesn’t matter anyway) make her unable to move forward, while Florence’s desire to live in the city makes her new location feel like another prison. Côté’s compositions do all the work communicating his characters’ feelings. Early on we see Victoria crying outside her new home, but the camera only observes her through the home’s small doorway (first from behind, then head-on). She may be in the wilderness, but to Victoria her entire world is between those two narrow walls.

Once a mysterious figure from Flo’s past shows up, things begin to make sense. The shift from offbeat drama to dark revenge tale makes certain aspects like the fast-paced score and precise framing click into place. It’s as if the film starts out as a thriller, but has to wait for its characters to catch up with the proceedings. It may sound like Côté doesn’t have a handle on things, but it’s evident from frame one that he’s in complete control. The switch to more genre-based material doesn’t work as well as the other tonal shifts throughout Vic + Flo Saw A Bear, but it’s only a slight step down in terms of enjoyment.

Côté’s power as a filmmaker is evident in the film’s brief coda, a fantasy sequence that doesn’t exactly fit in with the film (for all its strangeness, everything still operates within reality) yet flows perfectly with everything that came before it. Vic + Flo Saw A Bear is a very strange film, one that’s fully realized yet feels like it can veer off into any direction at a moment’s notice. Watching the film feels like being on unstable ground, but that feeling of uncertainty makes for a thrilling experience.

As the 2013 Berlin International Film Festival comes to a close, as does our coverage of the festival. This last article contains the award winners of this year’s festival. The top prize award of the Golden Bear went to Child’s Pose from the Romanian director Calin Peter Netzer. See the full list of winners below.

Full list of 2013 Berlin International Film Festival Winners

Golden Bear: “Child’s Pose” by Calin Peter Netzer (Romania)

Silver Bear – The Jury Grand Prize: “An Episode in the Life of an Iron Picker” by Danis Tanovic (Bosnia and Herzeogvina/France/Slovenia)

Silver Bear – Best Director: David Gordon Green, “Prince Avalanche” (USA)

Silver Bear – Best Actress: Paulina Garcia in “Gloria” (Chile/Spain)

Silver Bear – Best Actor: Nazif Mujic in “An Episode in the Life of an Iron Picker” (Bosnia and Herzeogvina/France/Slovenia)

Silver Bear – Best Screenplay: “Pardé (Closed Curtain),” by Jafar Panahi (Iran)

Silver Bear – Artistic Contribution: Aziz Zahmbakyjev, cinematographer of “Harmony Lessons” (Kazakhstan / Germany / France)

Alfred Bauer Prize: Denis Côté, “Vic and Flow Saw a Bear” (Canada)

Best First Feature Award: “The Rocket” by Kim Mordaunt (Australia)
Special Mention:  “Layla Fourie” by (Germany/South Africa/France/The Netherlands)
Special Mention: “Promised Land” by Gus Van Sant (U.S.)

Golden Bear for Best Short Film: “Fugue” by Jean-Bernard Marlin (France)

Silver Bear for Best Short Film: “remains quiet” by Stefan Kriekhaus (Germany)

DAAD Short Film Award: “Ashura” by Köken Ergun (Turkey/Germany)

Crystal Bear for the Best Kplus Feature Film: “The Rocket” by Kim Mordaunt (Australia)
Special Mention: “Satellite Boy” by Catriona McKenzie (Australia)

Crystal Bear for the Best Kplus Short Film: “The Amber Amulet” by Matthew Moore (Australia)
Special Mention: “Ezi un lielpilseta” by Ēvalds Lācis (Latvia)

Crystal Bear for the Best 14plus Feature Film: “Baby Blues” by Kasia Rosłaniec (Poland)
Special Mention: “Pluto” by Shin Su-won (Republic of Korea)

Crystal Bear for the Best 14plus Short Film: “Rabbitland” by Ana Nedeljković, Nikola Majdak (Serbia)
Special Mention: “Treffit” by Jenni Toivoniemi (Finland)

And so the 63rd Berlinale is at a close. Over the past week I have been having the time of my life, and I hope I was able to share some of that with all of you. Through my writing, I have talked in length about the experience of going to the movies, because while it’s great to get technical, talk shop, and give awards, in the end movies are an experience. Movies are a moment to step back, get a different view on the world, and hopefully learn something about ourselves in the process.

I just stepped out of the Cinemaxx, and was met with the disassembly of the festival grounds. I am sad to see it all go, but am inspired to try my best to make it back next year. Inspiration might be the perfect theme for me to end on. I know I have told you all I love movies, but what I have not mentioned is that I hope to one day make them. For the time being, I am a journalist, and have been for the past three years. I love stories. I love hearing stories, and most of all I love telling them. While I have enjoyed my past works as a news videographer, reporter, and editor, I have let myself get a bit distracted in the form. It put me through college, and I think at one point I was convinced it would be the launch pad to get me into film–that I would, at some point, have the chance to simply transition into film production.

During the Press conference for Don Jon’s Addiction, I had the opportunity to ask Joseph Gordon-Levitt a question. I asked him, as a first time director who just finished his debut feature film, what advice did he has for the others out there looking to make it. “Don’t wait for someone to give you permission,” he said. “Don’t wait for the moment. Go out and make the moment.” This really was not new advice, in fact, I may have offered it to others myself, but for some reason, in this context–coming from him in a place where everyone’s dreams and ambitions are finally coming to fruition–it really sunk in.

My final film screening at the festival was Some Like it Hot. This is one of my favorite films, created by my favorite director, Billy Wilder. Coincidentally, the title was also the theme of this year’s Talent Campus–the portion of the festival that offered all the filmmaking lectures and panels of which I attended six sessions. I hadn’t seen the film in years, since about the time I decided to actually get into media. I forgot how good it is. I forgot how original, and just plain fun of a movie it is. I am leaving this festival with a new drive. I have a box full of scripts that I have written over the years. What English-Writing graduate doesn’t? My sights are set, and I’m done finding distractions and reasons to wait. It’s time to just say “go.”

Dark Blood (Capsule review)

In 1993, director George Sluizer ended production of his film, Dark Blood, when the lead actor died unexpectedly. I’m too young to have much to say about River Phoenix. I was five when he died, and I don’t remember the media rampage that followed. I grew up knowing him as the rough kid in Stand by Me, and as young Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade. Dark Blood is an experience that unfortunately most people will never get to see because of legal issues regarding the films ownership. Technically, the footage belongs to the studios insurance company, who knows–nor cares–about the importance of piece. Topics addressed about death and loneliness are chilling, knowing what fate falls on River just a few days after the scenes were shot. Dark Blood is a movie that will stay with you; not only because of the extreme situation surrounding the film, but because it is an exceptionally visualized film, well produced with a captivating story. If you ever have the opportunity to see it, it is worth whatever effort it might require.

Full Dark Blood review

IN CLOSING: Tomorrow morning I leave Berlin to continue my work in the Harz Mountains of central Germany. I hope I have succeeded in giving you all an adequate glimpse at my experience here. I have had a great time covering this festival, and sharing my observations with you. It has been a privilege. We’ll see you at the movies!

I have some very unfortunate news; the general theater audience that I have been ranting and raving about over the past few posts has let me down. Let me clarify this. Remember the first time you saw Fonzie jump the shark, and then the episode ended with no one getting eaten? That is a comparable sense of disappointment that I experienced in the audience during my latest screening. I’m not sure where they came from, or if this was an anomaly of jerks that just happened to all attend the screening, or what, but it was a very telling moment; and this moment actually served to enhance my experience of the film I had just seen.

I attended a sort of double feature. Or more accurately put, a simultaneous screening of a long short and a short feature–the films being Chiralia and Die Wiedergänger respectively and both being German films. Chiralia only drew a few impatient grumbles, proving to be somewhat experimental, but beautifully shot telling a story that depicts the same event of a child nearly drowning three times, but in parallel universes and done such that you never know that the universes have changed. I only came to this conclusion after learning that the writer and director had a Ph.D in Physics. The film was certainly very difficult to decipher.

The second film was extremely experimental, narrating a story that didn’t even come close to matching the images presented. This is where everything went to hell in the theater. The film was only 60 minutes, but nearly half the theater emptied before the lights turned back on. People just couldn’t handle it. I’m ok with this, I suppose. If you are willing to pay full price for a ticket and then leave before the end that is your prerogative. What I was not ok with, was the behavior during the Q and A with the crew after the film. People boo’d. People accused the team of a lack of vision. One man had the audacity to actually tell the director that he wanted to take a poll to find out how many other people in the theater thought the film was “complete shit.”

I’ve expressed my own opinion during this coverage about experimental film. I do have a hard time with it, but I also seriously respect it as an art form and this response was uncalled for; not to mention completely rude. My end opinion? The audience behavior told me perhaps more about the people than all my travels to date. Though I hate to generalize the world on this one international audience, I think such a conclusion can be made; and it is in the audience reaction that I truly experienced something from the film. Many people, when confronted with something they do not understand, will simply turn and run away. Others will stand up and declare it “complete shit.” And many who may have the opposite opinion as the popular group will simply remain silent in their seats. As for me, I might not understand it, but I trust the artist and his personal vision. On the festival level, I trust my programmers when they select such a piece and deem it worthy of presentation. Die Wiedergänger ended up being a living piece of art, and I would like to urge people to take some time and have patience with what they do not understand.

Moving on…

Interior: Leather Bar.

On the topic of experimental film comes James Franco’s third project to be presented at Berlinale–though in one of the press conferences he couldn’t help but note he had submitted four, and one was “deemed not worthy.” I think we can all imagine his tone as he expressed this. Interior: Leather Bar is not what you expect it to be. Initially billed as a recreation of lost footage from the Al Pachino film Cruising, Interior: Leather Bar was assumed to be an artistic rendition of the scene, or of the creation of the scene, as well as a statement against censorship. Rather, what we have is more of a quasi-documentary/mocumentary/behind-the-scenes film about a personal project of Franco working on recreating the making of the scene. Essentially, it isn’t entirely clear what the approach is, since we do not know if Franco was honestly working to recreate the scene from Cruising, if the film we get is scripted, or if it just a display of the artistic process.

Interior: Leather Bar is extremely raw, and in this way makes a good stance against censorship. Be prepared to see a good amount of explicit sexual content, and if this makes you uncomfortable, I would say do your best to bear it because the film is exceptionally intriguing. For me, the most interesting part of the film was hearing the varying reasons the extras had to try and be in the footage Franco was supposedly working to recreate. Some were there to try and get an “in” with Franco, others were there just for the subject matter, and some truly believed in Franco’s project. The dialog between all characters in the film is very poignant. From Franco trying to come to terms with what it is he is trying to do, to the individuals “getting to know each other” a bit right before jumping into a scene of hardcore, leather clad sex.

The film for me was really a look at the artistic process, and the emotions and struggles we go through to bring our visions to life. There are moments of tremendous doubt, but Franco pulls through with the help of his friends who believe in him and what he is doing. It makes a statement about the need to surround ourselves with those who want the best for us, and will be the voice of support when we are ready to give up. Whatever Franco was trying to accomplish with this project, I would say he was successful. I really enjoyed it, and found myself really wishing it was longer than 60 minutes. The method of shooting the film interested me on a journalistic level, and this is certainly not your average film. The real reason behind how this film came together may always remain a mystery to me, but I am fine with that. I think it is best to not know sometimes and just trust the vision of the art.

RATING: 8.1

James Franco at a press conference for his film Interior: Leather Bar

COMING UP: With the festival coming to an end, I am enjoying the time I now have to relax a bit. I have seen nearly all of the bigger name films I was hoping to see, and am now branching out a little bit more–attending a few screenings at random just to get a look at some films that I may never have another chance to see. The awards will be occurring soon, and I am really anxious to see the jury’s impression of the films that have been screened throughout the week.

The festival is in a state of transition. Much of the international press is beginning to leave the city, and as the weekend nears, they are replaced with more general audience members looking to enjoy the scene. Nearly all of the films have now played at least once, meaning the press has gotten what they came for, and there are now more films in screen circulation for the general public to see. As the press events begin to wane, I find myself making the transition myself; though I plan to stay for the entirety of Berlinale, as there are still several films I want to see. There are no longer any screenings that are press only, and the theaters are taking on a more organic feel with the presence of general movie goers filling the seats around me.

I’m one of those guys that has to have a snack with a movie. I’m not sorry about this–for any of you who cannot stand the popcorn crunchers or mid-show pop-openers. And of course, I never buy from the theater concessions, choosing, rather, to collect my goods from the grocery store on the bottom floor of the neighboring mall. I’ll never forget the time I managed to sneak a whole 16 inch pizza into Rocky Balboa. Europe is ideal for bringing food into theaters because everyone carries a backpack with them where ever they go, so no one questions its presence. During the press screenings I always felt out of place with a Coke and a Mounds bar because I was one of the only one indulging. I’m sorry, but a movie isn’t a movie without snacks–especially ones you sneak in.

Now that I am back with the general audience, I am home again. I don’t have to take three minutes to quietly open my soda–which is exceptionally pressurized after bouncing around in my bag. I can pop that baby open and go to town. Same goes with the candy bar wrapper. After all, going to a movie should be an event. Even if you are hitting three or four screenings a day, this is a time to kick back, have fun, and get lost in a story for a couple of hours. I think if anyone forgets this side of cinema they are really missing out.

Prince Avalanche

I like going into a movie not knowing much about it. Knowing too much sets expectations, and you can fall victim to distracting yourself during a film waiting to see if your predictions prove true or false. For this reason, I will usually follow the recommendations of friends more than I will a review. Sometimes, however, I don’t always manage to steer clear of a review or trailer if my anticipation is too hot to handle. I am, after all, only human.

Because Prince Avalanche was one of the films in which the press was combined with a general audience, I decided it would be a good idea to show up to the theater earlier than usual to ensure a good seat–and by good seat, I mean a good place in line. I showed up to the Berlinale Palast about fifty minutes before showtime, and a thick line was already forming. The group beside me had apparently partied too hard the night before, and weren’t feeling sociable, so I pulled out my phone and decided to entertain myself by reading the reviews of my colleagues. In this process, I stumbled upon a review of Prince Avalanche from Sundance, and decided to break my rule and give it a look.

As usual, it set an expectation. However, I found that the critic in this case was very off base. He declared the film to be a serious role for funny man Paul Rudd, and noted that the pacing was incredibly slow, since much of it is just the two main characters out in the woods. My perception proved otherwise.

Prince Avalanche tells the story of two men, Lance and Alvin. Lance is the little brother of Alvin’s girlfriend, which is the only reason Alvin hired him to help repair the forest roads in a fire scarred region of Texas. The two have nothing in common; Alvin prefers solitude and self-reflection where Lance craves social scenes and partying. The film plays along the usual lines of a buddy film, where the two characters eventually find fulfillment in the character aspects of their foil. It is a bumpy road, but the two reach it ultimately and the ending is very satisfying.

For those Paul Rudd fans out there who have read reviews like I did, and are upset that he will not be providing his usual antics, forget it. Prince Avalanche is hilarious. At times the humor is subtle, but you will find it there none the less. Writer and director David Gordon Green said his script for the 90 minute film was only sixty pages long, meaning he left plenty of room for improvisation of the actors, which is one of Rudd’s strong points. The banter is wonderful between Alvin and Lance, and I couldn’t help but watch the film and, at times, see the characters as children in adult bodies. Not that the humor is childish, it is quite the opposite; rather, the speech pattern is simple and poignant. Rudd commented that he felt the dialog was similar to that of a foreign film, but spoken natively in English. (It should be noted that Prince Avalanche is a remake of an Icelandic film called Either Way.) The film is engaging and keeps a solid pace. With only four characters in the entire film, the actors do a great job to carry the weight for the full 90 minutes.

Apart from the press conference for Prince Avalanche I also made it to a Talent Campus presentation on crafting emotion in screenwriting, in which David Gordon Green was a part of the panel. He gave some interesting introspect on his script for Prince Avalanche, as well as his writing process in general. According to Green, his first task is creating a cohesive story, with a solid arch and a beginning, middle, and end. This first draft story might be bland and hyper-straightforward, but he says that once he has this in place, it gives him freedom to get as weird or offbeat as he wants. Green stated that too often writers will try and write all the quirkiness into the very first draft of a script, and try to make this quirkiness an integral part of the story and characters. He warns against this, as it can create serious challenges in telling the initial story. “Once you have your solid script, your solid story,” he says, “you will never lose it, and that frees you to wander later as far as you want.” Using this process also allows Green to get the actors involved to develop their own characters, which leads to some really unique and entertaining performances.

Greens methods definitely play out in this excellent addition to his work as a fairly prominent director and screenwriter. Green noted that he managed to keep his efforts on this film largely unknown to Hollywood and the press. It was just “friends going out into the woods and making a movie.” This privacy freed Green of expectations and gave him true creative license to do what he wanted, away from external eyes. Prince Avalanche is a fresh, fun comedy that carries a solid message and story at the heart of it. I thoroughly enjoyed the film, and I hope it achieves fairly wide distribution as I think it offers something for everyone.

RATING: 8.6

Director David Gordon Green and lead actor Paul Rudd at a press conference.

COMING UP: As I mentioned, things are beginning to slow down a bit here at the 63rd Berlinale, but there are still plenty of films to see. Later this week is the screening of Dark Blood, the last–and never fully finished–film with River Pheonix. Also, a gold rush American western with a German spin.

I was finally able to attend the lecture on short films presented through the Berlinale Talent Campus. The forum was moderated by the curator of the Berlinale Shorts Program, with the panel consisting of shorts programmers from festivals throughout Europe. The discussion was very interesting, and really told a lot about not only the process, but also just how diverse the selection process can be from festival to festival. One in Sarajevo only has one person on the selection committee, where others functioned as teams in completely different ways. Certain festivals have restrictions on premiere status, or the time frame when the film was produced–like Berlinale–where the festival in Finland welcomes everything and anyone.

What was most enlightening, and something that all of the programmers agreed upon, was that they did not necessarily select what they felt to be the best films; rather, they try and build a program that shows new directions in film, diverse ways of telling stories, as well as just plain good shorts. They build a diverse program that offers a collective pool of the type of talent that is out there, and then allow the juries of the festivals to decide which ones are the best. This does a lot to explain why, at times, a shorts program might not meet the standards of most viewers as far as representing what they might consider to be “good cinema.”

I was able to make it to another program of shorts before the attending the panel. What was apparent at this screening, and further emphasized by the programmers, is that typically the programs are made of groups of film that seem to draw on a similar theme–be it alternative storytelling, stories based in reality, or young and upcoming film makers. I will say I enjoyed the second program of shorts better than the first one I attended. The first program fell along the lines of alternative methods to bring a true tale to life. The second program was more along the lines of traditional short film. If you attend a festival where the shorts are divided into separate programs, try and attend a number of them to get a feel of the overall diversity.

The Broken Circle Breakdown

As Americans, we sometimes tend to believe that Europeans can have a fairly negative view of us. The fact is, for the most part they only take issue with our politics, but absolutely love our culture. This idea is clear in Felix van Groeningen’s The Broken Circle Breakdown. The Broken Circle Breakdown tells the story of Didier, a Dutch bluegrass playing atheist who loves America; and Elise, a tattoo artist and catholic. The two fall in love and have a child. At the age of six, the daughter of Didier and Elise begins a battle with cancer. Didier ends up taking strong convictions that religion is to blame for the fact that better medicine is not available for his daughter, which causes friction between him and Elise. To avoid spoiling the film, I will leave out the details of this friction, but the struggle pushes both characters to the very edge of their relationship.

The story is not told in chronological order, with regular jumps back and forth over the span of seven years. The story has a strong presence of American cinema, even though it takes place in Holland. Didier lives in a very “country” setting, with horses and a pick-up, and the soundtrack is made up of lively bluegrass. Even the love between Didier and Elise has a very American feel to it, which ends up taking the focus of the film over the initial story of battling cancer. This is the idea that our convictions are often all we have in a crisis, but that–in the end–we really have no control, regardless of what we believe.

The Broken Circle Breakdown is a beautiful picture in both appearance and story. Van Groeningen uses the presence of harsh light to present a strong and telling image throughout the film, both in the fields around Didier’s house as well as on the stage when he and Elise are performing bluegrass, and it works to draw comparison to the two facets of their lives together. The film received tremendous audience approval during the Panorama screening, and–while the story deals with some very serious issues and moments–there are comical elements that often help to relieve some of the tension.

RATING: 8.7

Concussion

Concussion is a love story, beautifully told by director Stacie Passon. The film opened big at Sundance, and was snapped up very quickly for future distribution by the Weinstein Company. Concussion plays on a lot of themes: self-discovery, love, age, and forgiveness–not just forgiveness of others, but of ourselves as well. While it is considered Queer Cinema, it is universal to anyone who has ever known love, which I believe to be the overall point of Queer Film.

After suffering a concussion, caused by getting hit with a softball accidentally by her son, Abby is left feeling as though she is missing something in her life. First she decides to go back to work flipping apartments. Next she visits a prostitute. Then she decides to become one herself, using the newly renovated apartment she has been working on as her place of business. She decides to service only young women who are looking to better understand themselves and their lives, and later she works with women her own age who are also at a point of confusion in their lives. Through helping these women, Abby is able to get perspective on her own life and what might be missing. In the end, she gives up the practice and returns to her life as a wife and mother with a new sense of drive and determination.

It is no mystery that the concussion in the beginning is a metaphor for a midlife crisis, and Abby’s actions that follow are those that could accompany such a turning point in one’s life. Abby’s prostitution is never seen as a bid for independence or money, as she already has both. In a Q and A following the screening, the director made the statement that–though they decided to leave the notion somewhat ambiguous–each of the women Abby helps is really an extension of herself, and by showing these women the way to understanding, she is showing herself the way. The overall idea that the film wishes to show is that it is possible to have these crisis’ in the midst of our lives, and they can serve to change us, but they do not have to destroy us–as is so often seen in films that tackle this subject matter.

Concussion is a wonderful and engaging story that anyone can learn from as well as enjoy. It is a genuine slice of life that feels true and whole, and was brilliantly executed. I felt engaged throughout the entirety of the film, and have a feeling this is just the beginning for Stacie Passon. I would not be surprised if she becomes a mainstream filmmaker within the next couple of years, and I cannot wait to see what else she has to offer.

RATING: 9.2

From Left to Right. The Curator of the Panorama Program, Producer Rose Troche, Writer/Director Staci Passon, and Actress Robin Weigert, who portrayed Abby in the film.

COMING UP: Tomorrow we will get a look at the serious side of Paul Rudd in Price Avalanche, the latest film from David Gordon Green. I have not seen much billing around town for this film, but the press screening is occurring in the Berlinale Palast with the presence of the Grand Jury, so I think we can expect something great from this film.

A couple of days ago, I mentioned the comments of my professor regarding his feelings on the feature of movie theaters. Today, I heard a few of his concerns confirmed by a panel of distributors. The Berlinale Talent Campus is a wonderful additive to the festival, and professionals of the industry do a spectacular job discussing the ins and outs of independent film—from conception to production to distribution. In the digital age of and the death of the DVD market, distributors of both big budget and art house films are not entirely sure where the future lies, but with more independent film makers working on a digital platform—thanks to the presence and availability of DSLR cameras—there are more than enough options to compensate the death of DVD, such as Netflix and iTunes.

A general consensus among the panel was that although the technology is moving ever further, the tactics of distribution are returning to a state not unlike that of the 1980’s. They were not able to elaborate on this idea a whole lot, and I am not very familiar with distribution of the 80’s, but what I got out of the discussion is that traditional cinema—as in going to a theater—is here to stay. What’s more, thanks to digital projection, the technologies surrounding VOD, and the ability to digitally transfer films across the world, it is likely more art and independent films will make their way to general audiences. For many of us out there—including yours truly—the loss of celluloid projection feels like a loss of aesthetic, and sometimes the imperfections of a film reel that has been played too many times and is covered in scratches is half the fun, and if I wanted a digital picture I would watch from home. This will likely be the decision we will actually make for ourselves very soon.

The fact is—as much as some of us might not like to hear it—this industry is all about money and film is expensive; so much so that it deters certain distributors from purchasing films because the possibilities of breaking even are less when the cost of distribution includes the hundreds of thousands of dollars it takes to make print reels. With digital projection, the return of investment is higher, meaning more films are purchased, and we are now able to see more movies on the big screen than ever before. International distribution means import taxes, and when a movie is contained on in a digital file that has next to no physical value—as opposed to film—the taxes are removed from the equation, meaning more foreign films will make their way to the screen. The point is, the digital age likely has more to offer the art than to detract from it; and as such, we can expect to see a rise in foreign and independent distribution around the world.

Computer Chess (Capsule review)

One of the more anticipated films of the festival–and for me, certainly one of the most–is a film by Andrew Bujalski called Computer Chess. What made this film so great was the tremendous callback it makes to independent film prior to the DSLR era, when not everyone had access to the “film look,” and made due with whatever they could get their hands on. In the case of Computer Chess, the decision to not go after the coveted film feel was most made likely for aesthetics, but was enjoyable none the less in this quirky comedy about computer programming in the early 80’s.

Full review of Computer Chess

COMING UP: Things continue to progress here in Berlin, and I find myself becoming more and more engaged, as well as inspired. I took some time between screenings to stop in at the European Film Market, and I hope to make it back for a better look tomorrow. This is such a great opportunity to learn anything and everything about the independent film industry, and because the Film Market is present, towards the end of the week there will be a few screenings of newly remastered Hollywood Classics that the distributors are hoping to have re-released. Hopefully I will find time to make it to a couple of these screenings and see some of my favorite old movies on the big screen. Until then, I will continue enjoying the regular program with a Dutch film with southern American flair called The Broken Circle Breakdown, and my first look this festival at some Queer Programming with the Panorama presentation of Concussion.

When attending a festival, the town in which it is hosted comes alive to match the draw of the event. All across Berlin, the presence of Berlinale is felt: shop windows are decorated with film reels and retro cameras, subway stations play the scores from Hollywood classics, and local bars and coffee venues host movie themed events. Sometimes it’s nice to get a break from the rush of the fest, and retreating to such venues can provide a lot of culture that you might not find next to the red carpet and hot press lights.

I came to the festival because I love movies. Obviously, the films that screen at Berlinale come from some of the most promising and talented individuals in the industry. As I mentioned at the beginning of my coverage, up until this point the majority of my festival experience comes from a much smaller, more localized scene. I enjoy these sorts of fests just as much as I have am enjoying my experience here in Berlin, and the reason is because there is nothing like seeing the raw and innovative ways the “little guy” comes up with to bring their vision to the screen. Sunday night I took the Subway across town to a little bar called Prince Charles, at 85 F Prinzensrtasse by way of the U8. Prince Charles, in conjunction with the Berlin Film Group, hosted an open mic screening–advertised via Facebook–inviting anyone and everyone in town to come with a film they had created to play for the audience in attendance. The event was a bit of a “stick it to Berlinale,” which is an unfortunate attitude to take, but it proved to be very fun and well attended with some surprisingly well produced short films.

What proved to be more alluring than the films themselves were the networking opportunities. I am not sure how many of the readers here at Way Too Indie are interested purely in viewing indie films and how many are interested in making them, but if you are an ambitions filmmaker looking to make it, such an event is a possible dream come true. Amateur cinematographers, producers, screenwriters, and actors were all in attendance, and all with the same goal of finding someone to collaborate with. If you have the opportunity to attend a festival of any size, and are interested in networking, keep an eye out for bulletin boards and pamphlet tables around the festival venues for smaller events like the one at Prince Charles. You may find the opportunities and experiences there are on par–if not greater–than what you may find on the festival grounds.

Maladies

James Franco was involved with a total of three projects in this year’s programming for Berlinale, and Maladies was the second to screen at the festival. The film brings together a powerful cast to tell a story of mental illness in a time when such a thing was still very misunderstood. The press screening was surprisingly empty for a film with such a high number of fairly mainstream actors involved, which shows how difficult it can be to balance the films we choose to see at a festival. Often screenings overlap by just enough to make it impossible to get everything in, or a press conference runs long. Luckily, all films offer multiple screenings, and I hope for the sake of the rest of the press they will find a way to see this film.

Maladies tells the tale of James (James Franco) and his struggles with mental illness in 1963. James’ specific illness is never stated, though he hears voices and fixates on minute details. It is alluded that James–who used to star on a soap opera–lost his job due to his inability to cope with his affliction, and he now spends his time working on a novel; the subject of which is never stated. Living in the same house as James is his sister, Patricia–who also has a mental illness–and his friend Catherine. The film takes us inside the mind of James as we hear the voice he hears and see the hallucinations James sees. The voice inside James’ head serves the role of a quasi-narrator for the film, which I found to be a very unique use of its presence. As James slips in and out of his spells, he is at times a very lucid character and at other times very grounded. He fixates on his book, while also making statements on the creative process. In all, Maladies uses mental illness to tell a universal story of allowing distractions to keep us from accomplishing our life’s ambitions. For James, he continuously finds reasons to delay finishing his novel, and his commentary about his reasoning behind the delay (often absurd because of his illness) parallels his struggles with the life of anyone chasing a goal or dream.

As a period piece, Maladies does a great job of setting the scene of a seaside town just outside of New York in the early sixties. The set design is perfect, and the look of the image does a fine job of putting us in the mindset of the era. The film almost always maintains a very shallow depth of field, as though to make our minds feel the the same short-sightedness as the characters. There are several dreamlike qualities to the film, but never to the point that we lose touch with reality, and we are always grounded once more by the harsh realities that surrounds the story. The film keeps a steady pace, and the chemistry between the actors is beautiful and engaging.

Because the topic of mental illness can be so foreign and confusing for a lot of people, much of the press I spoke with afterwards did not feel as engaged as I did. James Franco does an incredible job in this film, and the look and tone of the picture do a lot to really help you level with the experience of the age. The message is one that I feel applies to everyone, regardless of where your focuses lie.

RATING: 8.4

Coming out of the first weekend, Berlinale is in full swing. I have found my footing in navigating both the festival and the city, and I am really finding the enjoyment of the event outside of the cinemas. The folks who wait in line for hours in the cold hoping to get an autograph from someone leaving a press conference show the true dedication of a fan and movie goer. Outside the theaters, individuals not involved with the festival flock to the scene just to be part of the excitement, and the lights strung around the festival grounds give life and glamor to the square once the sun goes down.

COMING UP: Tomorrow comes a film I am very excited for called Computer Chess, a comedy about computer programming in the early 80’s; a German drama about the struggles of loss; and the third festival film from James Franco, this time as director, called Interior: Leather Bar.

I learned pretty quick the importance of showing up to the press screenings early. I’d heard this advice shortly after checking in and receiving my credentials; but, for my first screening of the festival–after arriving to the theater a good forty minutes before the film–I was told by the door manager that they probably wouldn’t open up until just before the show, and if I got in line five minutes before I would be fine. I half trusted her, went to grab a snack, and returned fifteen minutes before curtain time. The theater doors had already been opened, and nearly all of the seats were occupied. I managed to find a place in the front row, which was far from ideal, but at least it was a seat. Since then I have made a point of arriving a solid thirty minutes ahead.

Sometimes the press is let straight into the theater, but often there is a screening going on prior and we have to wait. Generally I’m not a fan of lines. I doubt if anyone is. However, in an international setting with so many people sharing a common interest in one place, I have yet to find the time spent in line at all terrible. Norwegian journalists specializing in American Pop Culture, German media students, and the occasional Canadian blogger are all just a shout away. Conversation isn’t difficult to initiate; simply turning around and asking where someone is from, if they were at this-or-that press conference, or if they are excited for the screening usually does the trick. The next thing you know you are discussing, debating, and critiquing film with someone from an entirely different corner of the world with a totally different outlook on cinema.

I have made a point of making my program selection as diverse as possible, while still attending the bigger film screenings. Because not everyone is as interested in the big name films from the US, it is typical for conversation to rapidly drift to the smaller, less known films in the festival line up. Coming from the US, I take as much as I can from films that depict a culture I am unfamiliar with, but having the opportunity to discuss the technique and story of a French drama with someone who is more than familiar with the director’s work and the social commentary surrounding a film brings about a whole new understanding and experience from what I initially left the theater with. This being said, if you ever have the opportunity to attend a large festival, pick a film or two that you might not typically watch, and take advantage of the other attendees, because there is always more than one way to experience a movie.

Lovelace

As I mentioned in the last post, the festival this year is presenting a surprising number of films that deal with issues of sex and pornography–more so than ever before, according to one of the festival programmers. Lovelace is one such film that takes a critical look at the porn industry by telling the story of the first real porn star, Linda Lovelace–star of the first real mainstream porn film, Deep Throat; portrayed by Amanda Seyfried. Lovelace takes place in the early and mid–seventies, when the porn industry was just beginning to really take off. The director of the film, Rob Epstein, commented in the press conference on the significance of the time period, stating it was a new age of sexual openness, but sometimes there are unintended consequences that can arise from this new openness.

The story is told twice from two perspectives. First is the story as seen from the outside, as Linda meets, falls in love with, and marries Chuck Traynor–who is responsible for getting her involved in the making of Deepthroat. The story is typical, and while moments might feel somewhat tense or uncomfortable for the characters, the world shown is full of glamour and success. It is an outsider’s view. The story then jumps ahead six years to Linda preparing for a polygraph test, per request of her publisher as she is about to release a book on her experiences. The story returns to the point right after she marries Traynor, and the glamour is replaced with scenes of abuse, domestic violence, and Linda’s struggle to escape the world she has been forced into.

Amanda Seyfried commented that the production of Lovelace was the most fun she has ever had on a set. While the film is serious in nature, it’s not hard to see how she came to this conclusion, as she totally breaks her typical character caste. The blonde, wholesome, heartthrob we typically see her as is replaced with a freckly, brunette, girl-next-door who is forced to function in extremely trying circumstances. The film brings out the full flair of the seventies, including high contrast, high grain film stock, great costumery and set direction, and a fantastic soundtrack. The film also stars a very dark Peter Sarsgaard and a cameo of James Franco as Hugh Hefner.

RATING: 8.7

Amanda Seyfried and James Franco

The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman

The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman is the feature debut of Fredrik Bond, who–before this point–has made a name for himself directing Heineken commercials. The film is fairly grandiose in production scale, and features a big name cast including Shia LeBeouf, Evan Rachel Wood, and a post-Harry Potter Rupert Grint.

Filmed on location in Romania, the film tells the tale of Charlie Countryman, who–after the death of his mother, and on the request of a drug-induced vision of her postmortem–takes off for Eastern Europe to find himself. After a passenger on his flight dies, Charlie decides to deliver a hat to the daughter of the deceased passenger and immediately falls in love. Unfortunately for Charlie, the now girl-of-his-dreams was once married to a dangerous killer, who recently returned to the country. In his adventure, Charlie faces death around nearly every corner, experiences a fancifully wild Eastern European party scene, and enjoys a crazy drug trip or two–all in the name of love, of course.

Charlie Countryman is a very typical love story–verging on the traditional chick-flick format, but set in an extreme, action adventure wonderland. Where a typical romance movie about new love might show a man concerning himself about simply losing the woman of his dreams, for Charlie it involves getting beaten to a pulp and possibly meeting a violent end. The film opens, closes, and in brief interlude features a faceless narrator who turns out to be not very reliable. The film works to creat many visual spectacles–usually drug induced–and makes use of typical hollywood action sequences we are used to seeing in contemporary films of this genre. In all, I found Charlie Countryman a bit over the top, unreliable, and had difficulty believing in the characters. However, if you are just looking to have a good time and enjoy a fast paced action adventure, it might be right up your alley.

RATING: 6.7

I ended my day by attending one of the five short film programs. I have always loved short films, and admire the ability to tell a solid story in a brief period of time. Unfortunately the shorts program I saw was very disappointing. I can appreciate a film as strictly an art piece, but if they too avant garde to tell a cohesive story I do not believe they belong on such a prestigious stage as Berlinale. During the festival’s Talent Campus–a lecture series featured throughout the festival–there is a presentation by the short film programmers, in which they discuss what they look for in a short film. I will make sure to attend this, as well as a few more short programs, and maybe they can explain their approach a bit better.

COMING UP: As for day three, Maladies with James Franco and Catherine Keener is on deck.

A professor of mine once made a startling statement. He believes that the current generation is the last that will experience movies in actual theaters. He has some good reasoning for this claim: the fact that instant home entertainment is becoming more and more available, the fact that technology is leading to better and better home theaters for the average individual, and–most significantly–that social interaction is now achieved without physical contact.

Seeing a film in the theater is a very social thing, regardless of how frowned upon it is to speak once the lights dim. Being part of an audience totally engrossed in a film is powerful. There is energy. There is presence. There is a sense of community involvement, as hundred of us gather to spend two hours of our lives in a dark room together, experiencing a story, told by people we do not know, but somehow seems to speak to each of us individually.

What marks a film festival as a truly unique cinematic experience is the audience. Each morning when get off the S-Bahn in Potsdam Hof, I exit the station via the Arkan Galaria–directly across from the Cinemaxx and Berlinale Palast. Every morning the same scene meets my eyes: hundreds of people camping out in a line spanning the length of the mall. Some in sleeping bags, others in fold out chairs; but each with a copy of the program open upon their lap, pen in hand, circling the screenings they hope to get tickets to. This is not a line for the midnight showing of some highly anticipated blockbuster hit. This is not even a line for a festival premiere, as most–particularly for the big name films–have long been sold out. This is a line for the 5:15pm showing of an Indonesian drama by a director no one has heard of. This is the line 10:00am screening of a documentary concerning an issue many never knew was an issue. People are here just for the chance to participate. This is dedication to the art, and brings a whole new energy into the theater. This is cinema.

Don Jon’s Addiction

I had the opportunity to attend both the press screening and the festival premiere of Don Jon’s Addiction. Because of the energy of the general public–enhanced by the fact that the director, Joseph Gordon-Levitt was in the theater–I had a much better time in the premiere screening. This being said, there is a reason I chose to view this film twice. Gordon-Levitt’s feature directorial debut with this film was nothing shy of brilliant.

The character of Jon Martello comes from what would be the typical caste of a Jersey Shore Guido. He is a lady killer, obsessed with appearance, and ends each night out with his boys by taking home an 8 or better. He doesn’t hide the fact that he is in it for the short haul with these ladies (which makes it a surprise to his friends and family when he decides to take a break from his “streak” to focus on just one girl). “The most beautiful girl in the world,” according to Jon. When Jon is not fulfilling his life with his girls, family, boys, body, and car, he spends his time focused on his other true passion: pornography. Jon loves pornography better than actual sex, because he is able to “lose himself” in it. To him, it is perfect satisfaction without work or expectations. When his girlfriend discovers his hobby, she leaves, and Jon is forced to cope with the fact that his need for porn is a result of an inability to truly connect within a relationship.

There are several cinematic elements Gordon-Levitt uses to present his original story in a satisfying and memorable way. Moments of repetition in both sound and image–used to identify patterns and habits in Jon’s life–juxtaposes starkly against the meticulous shot diversity that makes up the most of the movie. In the first half of the film, the same shot is never repeated, and the camera is always in motion via pushes, pulls, quick pans, and steady glides within dialog, evoking a feeling of calm. Everything is new, and everything is smooth–like the beginning of a new relationship. The music is intentionally overly romantic in a fairy tale manner. As the story progresses and conflict is introduced, the style of shooting transitions to shaky, handheld shots that hold much longer within each scene, and the moments of earlier repetition (such as Jon’s experiences in church and at the gym) begin to vary more and more as the character begins to transform.

In all, the film tells a great, original story that is both humorous and critical. Don Jon’s Addiction makes a statement about allowing media to set unrealistic expectations in out lives, and the dangers of allowing these expectations to dominate our experience. The film managed to pull a great deal of laughter from both audiences I experienced, and in a press conference following the film, Gordon-Levitt said he believes the best way to tackle difficult issues is through humor, citing films like Dr. Strangelove as his inspiration. As stated, a brilliant debut from a very talented individual, and I think we can expect great things to come as Joseph Gordon-Levitt begins to branch out in work.

RATING: 9.8

Paradise: Hope (Capsule review)

The other highly anticipated screening I attended was Ulrich Seidl’s third installment of his Paradise trilogy, Paradise: Hope. I have only seen one other film in the Paradise trilogy, which was Paradise: Love, but this did not impact my reception or understanding of the film, as Paradise: Hope is perfectly capable of standing alone because it runs parallel to the other two films.

Full Paradise: Hope review

COMING UP: The theme of sex and pornography is proving to be a overarching theme in many of the films in the festival, having begun with Don Jon. On Saturday the film, Lovelace, a story about the making of the 1970’s porno Deepthroat, will screen and continue to examine this topic. The Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman, as well as a shorts program and a British film called The Look of Love will also be on the Saturday agenda.

This is my first time at a large film festival. I honestly arrived not knowing what to expect. Albeit, I have been in and about the independent film community for several years now, and have had my taste of low profile, fledgling films on a local and regional level; but nothing like this.

What I have always loved about independent film and those who are involved with the art is the energy. The excitement. Sure, it can be glamorous, and everyone dreams of red carpets and photo backdrops, but in the end we are here because we belong. It’s a convention of the craft. Everyone here is present to either hear or tell a story, possibly–and likely–both. The film festival is a stepping stone. Whether it is the first or the last depends on the artists dreams and ambitions; but for everyone here, this has been a goal at one point or another and we are here to celebrate the accomplishment of ” getting there.”

Berlin brought me on board in a pool of sunshine–a welcome in the midst of the typical cloudy German winter. I walked to my hostel from the Bellevue S-Bahn station loaded with gear and clothes to last the 11 days of the festival, checked in to my modest 15 Euro a night room, and made my way to the press center at the Hyatt Berlin right across form the Berlinale Palast where many of the films will premiere. Having been a journalist for the past two and a half years, it is a warm welcome to finally enter a media circus that has a positive focus.

After receiving my credentials, I spent much of the afternoon getting my bearings. Certain press screenings require nothing more that a flash of the credentials, while other higher profile films require you to obtain press tickets a couple of days in advance, and certain tickets are only available at the specific venue on the day of the screening. Fortunately most of the venues are all centered around the Berlinale Palast and press center. I grabbed my tickets for the the red carpet events I wanted to attend between Thursday and Friday–most notably being Don Jon’s Addiction, the feature directorial debut of Joseph Gordon-Levitt–and made my way to the theater.

The regular program for the first day of the festival only included three films in the regular competition, and much of the hubbub was for Wong Kar Wai’s film, The Grandmaster, a Kung Fu epic. Visually breathtaking, the film juxtaposes the external actions of the characters with their own internal struggles.

I Used to be Darker

My first press screening for the festival was for the film, I Used to be Darker from Matt Porterfield. The film tells the story of nineteen year old Taryn, who ran away from her home in Ireland to work the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey. After discovering she is pregnant, she rushes to Baltimore where her aunt, uncle, and cousin live. Upon her arrival, she realizes this family–which she has always pictured as ideal–is in the midst of being torn apart. Her aunt and uncle are in the beginning stages of a separation, while her cousin, whom she has always been able to relate to, is rejecting her parents and the lie she feels she has been told all her life.

The film strives on long takes, which is fun to see after years of fast cutting films. The pace brings a powerful sense of melancholy to the film, and gives the audience the time to reflect on the moment along with the characters. Profoundly long periods of silence also add to this effect, some lasting nearly 10 minutes without a word of dialog as the characters interact with their environment and emotions. Original musical interludes serve as soliloquy, as well as providing an enjoyable soundtrack.

In all, not much is resolved in I Used to be Darker, and the piece serves more as a “slice of life” style of portraiture. The audience is able to poke their heads into the world of the characters, witness this period of conflict, and then return home. We are not left with unanswered questions, because no real questions were raised. Well produced and finely executed, I Used to be Darker is an enjoyable film on a technical level, though I would have liked to have seen more epiphany within the characters.

RATING: 6.8

COMING UP: Friday, things really take off at Berlinale with the screenings press conferences of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s Don Jon’s Addiction, Gus Van Sant’s Promised Land, and Ulrich Seidl’s Paradise: Hope. All three are much anticipated films from familiar faces on the film circuit. It will be great to see what direction these filmmakers are taking to define themselves in early twenty-first century cinema.