While all of us here at Way Too Indie love to cover the bigger film fests in the world (including Cannes, TIFF, Berlin and SXSW, to name a few), we have love for the smaller fests too. The spotlight may be smaller, but in many cases it can shine just as bright, profiling films and/or specific areas of modern day cinema that might otherwise get unjustly ignored. This is why a festival like the Mosaic International South Asian Film Festival (from now on we’ll call it MISAFF for short) feels vital in a lot of ways. It may only look small in comparison with the bigger players, but over four days they offer plenty of premieres and screenings of festival favourites. We’ve curated a small preview of some films playing at MISAFF, which happens just outside of Toronto in Mississauga from August 6th to 9th. To find out more and buy tickets, please visit www.misaff.com.

Court

Earlier this year WTI writer Zach Shevich reviewed Court, saying that it’s “an impressively complex debut, particularly from a 28-year-old filmmaker,” and he’s right on the money. Chaitanya Tamhane’s film deals with a court case that should be thrown out due to its frivolousness, but within the Indian legal system it goes on endlessly. Tamhane’s debut is undeniably aimed at the heart of his own country’s failing systems, but there’s a universal appeal thanks to his precise direction and focus on the inefficiency of corrupt bureaucracy. Court premiered last year the Venice Film Festival in the Horizons section where it won Best Film, and since then it’s been racking up awards around the world. Anyone interested in attending tonight’s opening night gala should also know that director Chaitanya Tamhane will be attending the screening. [C.J.]

Timbuktu

Abderrahmane Sissako’s Timbuktu should be a film anyone into indie or arthouse knows about by now. Ever since its premiere at Cannes in 2014, it’s gone on to gross over $1 million in the US (a rarity for African cinema), sweep France’s César Awards, and even earn itself a nomination for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars. Sissako’s film, which looks at the absurdity and horror of a town taken over by Islamic extremists, has clearly struck a nerve with audiences, and for that alone it needs to be seen. Back at Cannes, WTI writer Nik Grozdanovic reviewed Timbuktu, saying it has “more than a handful of moments when the vulnerability of human life is captured with deft precision.” Sissako has a keen eye for bringing out the humanity in his stories, but his gorgeous visuals makes Timbuktu the kind of film that demands to be seen on the big screen. [C.J.]

Monsoon

We won’t lie: we weren’t exactly too keen on Sturla Gunnarsson’s Monsoon. But regardless, audiences have been a big fan of Gunnarsson’s documentary on the massive yearly event that brings both life and death to India. It was chosen by TIFF as one of Canada’s Top 10 Films of 2014, and it wound up winning the People’s Choice Award for the best film out of the top ten as voted by audience members. And despite our criticisms, there’s one aspect of Monsoon everyone can agree on: it’s a visual treat. Gunnarsson shot his film with 4K digital cameras, and it captures the monsoon’s large scale powers in crisp detail. Anyone interested in learning more about monsoon season should definitely try to catch this one. [C.J.]

Umrika

Umrika (which is the closing night gala for the fest), translated into English as America, is the place where you can find “Hollywood,” “The White House,” and those “statues with lots of people,” as spoken with adamant enthusiasm by Ramakant (Suraj Sharma, The Life of Pi). However, Umrika itself is in much need of Sharma’s commanding presence and magnitude to avoid becoming an utterly obsequious film.

The hazy grain of the film’s visuals (shot on Super 16) is immediately engaging, capturing the affection of a rural village community which provides some pleasurable moments in the first act. As Udai (Prateik Babbar) leaves the village, his younger brother Ramakant (Sharma) watches while their mother (Smita Tambe) cries. The mother becomes the driving force for her two sons and their subsequent actions; they all have a desire to conquer the mystical and marvelous land of America, but it is Udai who takes the lead first. He eventually returns letters, stamped in pop culture images (look out for Arnie’s biceps), to provide a physical presence for his mother’s angst. Eventually, Ramakant finds out a revealing piece of information that will leave a lasting impact on his own family.

The film, set in the 70s and 80s, is stuffed with irony and funny cultural comparisons (“everything there is bigger… even the people”), but such laughable remarks get thrown in amidst a fundamentally serious story. As Ramakant comes of age, he finds himself deep in the hustle and bustle of Mumbai, and as exciting as it sounds the film also hits a wall, focusing on the plot capers of working-class Mumbai rather than Ramakant’s home village and the search for Udai. The film’s emotional core gets lost as a result, appearing only as glossy surface dramatics. The film itself never actually reaches America, but it does end on a simultaneously satisfying and troublesome note; it suggests that all could be well, but the plot dynamics may suffer in the process. [Charlie]

What else?

We’re a bit bummed that we couldn’t see a lot of what else MISAFF is offering, but we can’t help sharing what we’re looking forward to. We really want to see Afia Nathaniel’s Dukhtar, a drama about a mother protecting her daughter that looks very intense. And over in the documentary section we’re happy to have another chance to see Speed Sisters, a documentary about an all-female race car team in the Middle East that we missed at Hot Docs earlier this year. It had a lot of positive buzz at that fest, so it’s definitely worth checking out! To find out more about these films, and if you (hopefully) want to buy some tickets, visit www.misaff.com.

A common refrain implies that all lawyers are destined for hell; Court seems to insist they are caught in purgatory. After elderly folk singer and political organizer Narayan Kamble (Vira Sathidar) gets arrested on frivolous charges of abetting the suicide of a sewage worker, his lawyer Vinay Vora (Vivek Gomber) endures a litany of hearings and delays while attempting to free his client. Vinay’s shrewdness as a defense attorney is matched against an obstinate judicial system that values archaic colonial law over logic and reason. Patience with these frustrating proceedings might be Vinay’s greatest professional attribute, but he often displays more patience than Court earns.

During a lecture in which Vinay details the procedural obstacles that continually stall Narayan’s right to due process, a pair of workers intrudes to install a rotating fan. Vinay’s life is full of these interruptions: a series of wry, absurdist hindrances that neither facilitates justice nor advance Narayan’s case: a public prosecutor (Geetanjali Kulkarni) cites decency laws penned in the mid-1800s by the British India era’s Indian Penal Code, the judge (Pradeep Joshi) throws a case out because of a female defendant’s sleeveless top, and a key witness fails to appear in court for the first months of the hearing, causing more postponements.

Like Narayan’s legal case, there are times when Court looks as if it may never end. The bone-dry judicial humor in combination with cinematographer Mrinal Desai’s static camera means scene after scene of sleepy Indian legalese spoken in stuffy courtrooms. The tedium of these scenes seems to be writer/director Chaitanya Tamhane’s clever overarching point. The filmmaker depicts a legal system that appears comically stagnant. Everyone in this film is a victim of an outdated process that actively eschews empathy and common sense.

Life continues unperturbed by the legal battles that occupy Court’s characters. Desai shoots from a distance, often from above and the back of a room, which can occasionally feel like surveillance footage. Each shot is layered with texture. Even in the midst of the crux of Vinay’s arguments, it’s impossible to not notice the throngs of Indians waiting their turn with the judge. There’s constant activity within the frame, and it’s only in a couple of rare moments that Court lingers on a single character. All the exasperated faces planted in front of brightly painted walls provides an effective microcosm of the film.

Tamhane illustrates the remove with which many of these legal workers operate through tangential sections following his characters in their time outside the courts. The segmented nature of these breaks stalls what little momentum Court carries through its story; however, they provide rich detail that allows a more immersive experience into this foreign world. Tamhane has gathered an excellent cast, mixing professional and non-professional actors that play everything straight. Vivek Gomber, in particular, demonstrates a keen understanding for the deadpan delights Court’s script offers, while also navigating mouthfuls of legal rhetoric. Folk singer Vira Sathidar makes for a compelling screen presence, even though his character doesn’t speak much. The two songs performed by his character are evocative, poetic highlights to the movie.

Court serves as a mostly amusing indictment of a corrupt practice plagued by inefficiencies and indifference, thought it would be a stretch to call the movie outright funny. A story built to resemble the maddening system it portrays becomes more difficult to engage with by the limited surface pleasures the film offers. While Chaitanya Tamhane shapes the story with a myriad of caste, political, and socioeconomic issues, outsiders may struggle to identify many of these aspects; yet, his movie reflects universal truths beyond India’s penal issues. Court is an impressively complex début, particularly from a 28-year-old filmmaker. The fascinatingly bizarre case Tamhane constructs is a vehicle for his dry and sometimes dull takedown of Indian justice.

Court is now playing in a limited theatrical release.