Today came as a bit of a surprise for TIFF fans, as the festival unveiled twelve selections for its brand new programme Platform. For years, the Toronto International Film Festival has put its emphasis on audiences, as the fest’s major awards were based on votes by audience members. This year, for their 40th anniversary, TIFF has changed gears, introducing a new programme that will be overseen by a three-member jury. And for its first year, TIFF has started things off with a bang: the jury will comprise of filmmakers Claire Denis, Jia Zhang-Ke, and Agnieszka Holland. Piers Handling, director and CEO of TIFF, describes the 12 filmmakers selected for Platform as “the next generation of masters whose personal vision will captivate audiences, industry members and media from around the world.” And to make things more interesting, at the end of the festival the jury will give a $25,000 prize to the winning film.

Based on that description, and looking at the selection, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that some of these names might fly over the heads of some people (but hey, the purpose of this programme is to help establish these directors as the new generation of major filmmakers). But some big films did find their way into Platform, with the biggest of all being Ben Wheatley’s High-Rise, which has a huge cast including Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Irons and Elisabeth Moss. Other notable films include new works by Argentinian director Pablo Trapero (Carancho, White Elephant) and Canadian documentarian Alan Zweig (Vinyl). We’ll obviously be looking forward to Wheatley’s latest effort here, as he’s an indie filmmaker we’ve all been quite fond of ever since his debut Down Terrace, but we’re looking forward to seeing what new and/or underappreciated talent TIFF showcases with this new programme.

Read on below for more information on the twelve films selected for Platform. The Toronto International Film Festival will run from September 10th to 20th in Toronto, Canada. And be sure to come back to Way Too Indie over the next few weeks leading up to and during the fest, as we have plenty of coverage coming your way.

Bang Gang (A Modern Love Story)
Eva Husson, France (World Premiere)
Biarritz. Sixteen-year-old George, a beautiful high-school student, falls in love with Alex. To get his attention, she initiates a group game with Alex, Nikita, Laetitia and Gabriel during which they will discover, test, and push the limits of their sexuality. Through scandals, love and the breakdown of their value systems, each of them manages this intense period in radically different ways. Starring Daisy Broom, Fred Hotier, Lorenzo Lefebvre, Marilyn Lima, and Finnegan Oldfield.

The Clan (El Clan)
Pablo Trapero, Argentina/Spain (North American Premiere)
Within a typical family home in the traditional neighbourhood of San Isidro, a sinister clan makes its living off kidnapping and murder. Arquímedes, the patriarch, heads and plans the operations. Alejandro, his eldest son, is a star rugby player who gives into his father’s will and identifies possible candidates for kidnapping. To a greater or lesser extent, the members of the family are accomplices in this dreadful venture as they live off the benefits yielded by the large ransoms paid by the families of their victims. Based on the true story of the Puccio family, this film full of suspense and intrigue takes place in the context of the final years of the Argentine military dictatorship and incipient return to democracy. Starring Guillermo Francella and Peter Lanzani.

French Blood (Un Français)
Diastème, France (International Premiere)
This is the story of a Frenchman, born in 1965 on the outskirts of Paris. The story of a skinhead, who hates Arabs, Jews, blacks, communists and gays. An anger that will take 30 years to die out. A bastard, who will take 30 years to become someone else. And he will never forgive himself for it. Starring Alban Lenoir, Paul Hamy, Samuel Jouy and Patrick Pineau.

Full Contact
David Verbeek, Netherlands/Croatia (World Premiere)
A contemporary tale of a man who accidentally bombed a school through a remotely operated drone plane. Modern warfare keeps Ivan safe and disconnected from his prey. But after this incident, this disconnectedness starts to apply to everything in his life. He is unable to process his overwhelming feelings of guilt, but needs to open up to his new love Cindy. Only by facing his victims can he rediscover his humanity and find a new purpose in life. Starring Grégoire Colin, Lizzie Brocheré and Slimane Dazi.

High-Rise
Ben Wheatley, United Kingdom (World Premiere)
1975. Two miles west of London, Dr. Laing moves into his new apartment seeking soulless anonymity, only to find that the building’s residents have no intention of leaving him alone. Resigned to the complex social dynamics unfolding around him, Laing bites the bullet and becomes neighbourly. As he struggles to establish his position, Laing’s good manners and sanity disintegrate along with the building. The lights go out and the elevators fail but the party goes on. People are the problem. Booze is the currency. Sex is the panacea. Starring Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Irons, Sienna Miller, Luke Evans and Elisabeth Moss.

HURT
Alan Zweig, Canada (World Premiere)
Steve Fonyo is a one-legged cancer survivor who completed a cross-Canada run raising $13 million in 1985. The next 30 years were straight downhill: petty theft, larceny and drug addiction. The run has nothing to do with the life of this one-time hero, and everything to do with it. Starring Steve Fonyo.

Land of Mine (Under Sandet / Unter dem Sand)
Martin Zandvliet, Denmark/Germany (World Premiere)
A story never told before. WWII has ended. A group of German POWs captured by the Danish army, boys rather than men, are forced into a new kind of service under the command of a brusque Danish Sergeant. Risking life and limbs, the boys discover that the war is far from over. Starring Roland Møller, Louis Hofmann, Joel Basman, Emil Buschow, Oskar Buschow and Mikkel Boe Følsgaard.

Looking for Grace
Sue Brooks, Australia (North American Premiere)
Grace, 16, runs away from home. Her parents, Dan and Denise, head off on the road across the Western Australian wheat belt with a retired detective, Norris, to try and get her back. But life unravels faster than they can put it back together. Grace, Dan and Denise learn that life is confusing and arbitrary, but wonderful. Starring Richard Roxburgh, Radha Mitchell, Odessa Young and Terry Norris.

Neon Bull (Boi Neon)
Gabriel Mascaro, Brazil/Uruguay/Netherlands (North American Premiere)
Iremar and his makeshift family travel through Northeast Brazil taking care of bulls at the Vaquejadas, a Brazilian rodeo. But the region’s booming clothing industry has stirred new ambitions and filled Iremar’s mind with dreams of pattern-cutting and exquisite fabrics. Starring Juliano Cazarré, Aline Santana, Carlos Pessoa and Maeve Jinkings.

The Promised Land (Hui Dao Bei Ai De Mei Yi Tian)
He Ping, China (World Premiere)
Ai Ling, growing up in a small town, loses her fiancé Jiang He in Beijing. After returning to her hometown with a broken heart, she has to face all the complications life and love have in store for her. Starring Jiajia Wang, Yi Zhang, and Zhiwen Wang.

Sky
Fabienne Berthaud, France/Germany (World Premiere)
Romy is on holiday in the USA with her French husband, but the journey quickly turns into a settling of old scores for this worn out couple. After a huge argument, Romy decides to break free. She cuts her ties to a stable and secure life that has become alienating and escapes to the unknown. Drifting through a noisy Las Vegas to the wondrous high desert, she goes on with her solitary journey, abandoning herself to her sole intuitions and making it up as she goes. Liberated, she will cross paths with a charismatic and solitary man, with whom she’ll share an inconceivable but pure love. Starring Diane Kruger, Norman Reedus, Gilles Lellouche, Lena Dunham and Q’orianka Kilcher.

The White Knights (Les Chevaliers Blancs)
Joachim Lafosse, France/Belgium (World Premiere)
Critically acclaimed Joachim Lafosse brings to the screen the Zoe’s Ark controversy which made headlines in 2007: a story about the limits of the right of interference. Jacques Arnault, head of Sud Secours NGO, is planning a high impact operation: he and his team are going to exfiltrate 300 orphans, victims of Chadian civil war and bring them to French adoption applicants. Françoise Dubois, a journalist, is invited to come along with them and handle the media coverage for this operation. Completely immersed in the brutal reality of a country at war, the NGO members start losing their convictions and are faced with the limits of humanitarian intervention. Starring Vincent Lindon, Valérie Donzelli, Reda Kateb, Louise Bourgoin and Rougalta Bintou Saleh.

Now in its seventh year, BAMcinemaFest is once again kicking off the summer season with a wide variety of independent cinema from this year. While film fests happen throughout the year, there seems to be a flood of festivals in the winter/spring (Sundance, Berlin, SXSW, Cannes) and the fall (TIFF, Telluride, Venice, NYFF), leaving the summer season wide open for the most part. That’s what’s so nice about BAM; it acts as a nice bridge between the two major festival seasons, providing a nice selection of this year’s biggest highlights in independent cinema so far.

This year, the festival has gotten a hold of some big titles that we’ve all been eagerly anticipating since their premieres earlier this year. Opening the fest is James Ponsoldt’s The End of the Tour, with Alex Ross Perry’s Queen of Earth getting a Centerpiece slot and Sean Baker’s Tangerine closing the fest (keep reading to see our thoughts on two of these titles). But that’s only a small portion of the 35 films playing at BAM from this week until the end of June, and some of these films might be your only shot at catching them in theaters (but let’s hope they all get distribution of some sort!). The same goes for some of their excellent retrospective programming, which includes an outdoor screening of Richard Linklater’s Slacker and a 20th anniversary screening of Larry Clark’s Kids.

While we weren’t able to catch everything playing at BAMfest this year (we’ll see you soon enough, Queen of Earth and Krisha), we did get a chance to check out more than a few films that’ll be playing over the next two weeks. Read on to see our thoughts on what’s playing, and be sure to check out the full line-up and buy tickets over at the BAMcinemaFest website.

Call Me Lucky

For the first half of Call Me Lucky, Bobcat Goldthwait’s tribute to Boston comedy legend Barry Crimmins, it feels like a boilerplate documentary portrait. Complimented by talking head interviews with David Cross, Marc Maron, Steven Wright and Goldthwait himself, the documentary’s beginning details Crimmins’ roots as a rare liberal in his conservative upstate New York town to his status among the elite Boston comics and founder of the Stitches comedy club. Catalogued clips from Crimmins’ past shows a man whose timelessly hysterical satirical stand-up was far ahead of its time. Gradually, Call Me Lucky reveals its intentions to be significantly more altruistic, as it delves into a darker aspect to Barry Crimmins’ story. By the end, the film becomes a stunning look at a survivor’s story, and how a man changed his life to settle the demons of his past. This surprisingly emotional doc is not one to overlook. [Zach]

The End of the Tour

When iconic American author David Foster Wallace committed suicide in 2008, writer David Lipsky returned to the tape recorded interviews he conducted with Wallace for a planned 1996 Rolling Stone profile. Over the course of a few days at the end of Wallace’s book tour for Infinite Jest, the writers spent many long hours together in the snowy Midwest having a conversation that Lipsky would later describe as “the best one I ever had.” Indeed, their talks, as portrayed in The End of the Tour by Jesse Eisenberg (Lipsky) and Jason Segel (Wallace) are funny, poignant, and considered. Adapted from Lipsky’s 2010 book Although of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself, The End of the Tour continues writer/director James Ponsoldt’s (Smashed, The Spectacular Now) streak of empathetic, humanist stories that explore people struggling to cope with internal pains. This new film is like the best, most analytical late night sleepover talk. The rich, dialog-heavy The End of the Tour is completely engrossing, occasionally profound, and deeply moving. [Zach]

The Invitation

As far as horror films go, Karyn Kusama’s The Invitation is one of the best slow burns I’ve seen in years. Will (Logan Marshall-Green), still grieving after a tragic accident that destroyed his marriage 2 years ago, gets an invite out of nowhere from his ex-wife Eden (Tammy Blanchard) to join her and their old friends for a dinner party. Will hasn’t seen Eden or his friends since his marriage fell apart, but he goes with his girlfriend Kira (Emayatzy Corinealdi), hoping to reconnect and move on from the past.

From the moment Will arrives, things seem off to him, and as the night goes on he suspects that Eden and her new boyfriend David (Michiel Huisman) have something sinister in mind for him and the other guests. Kusama thankfully doesn’t make the central mystery about whether or not Will’s suspicions are valid (this is, after all, a horror movie). This is more about how and when things will go terribly wrong, and Kusama (along with cinematographer Bobby Shore) masterfully dangles the other shoe over viewers’ heads as they wait for it to drop. Every scene leading up to the exhilarating final act—which had me so involved I started yelling at the screen any time I disagreed with a character’s actions—is meticulously composed to increase the paranoia and dread exponentially with each passing moment. And once things finally take a turn for the worse, Kusama and Shore brilliantly betray their own form from the first hour, relying on frantic, handheld camera work and jagged cuts to amplify the tension. Their method works extremely well, and turns The Invitation into one of those rare delights where the payoff works just as well as the buildup. [C.J.]

Jason and Shirley

This low-budget biographical drama focuses on the day in 1966 when Oscar-winning filmmaker Shirley Clarke invited black gay hustler and drug addict Jason Holiday into her room at the Chelsea Hotel. She filmed Holiday for several consecutive hours as he told the story of his life, and the result was Clarke’s daring documentary Portrait of Jason, which was both hailed for its uncompromising look at many of the period’s most controversial social issues, and criticized for its exploitative nature. Jason and Shirley is a recreation of this day, and it consists primarily of intensely personal interview segments between actors Sarah Schulman and Jack Waters, who play the documentary filmmaker and her subject. The film’s brief 77 minute runtime is also intercut with short skit-like portions alternating between surreal depictions of Holiday’s fragile, drug-induced mental state and interactions with his friends of the time, including a heroin dealer and a fellow male prostitute. The intimate exchanges between Schulman and Waters come across as surprisingly genuine, which can be a difficult feat for biographical films. This one manages to transport its viewers into the past, and into the minds of its characters, rather smoothly, even though the more experimental aspects of the film, such as the insert skits, don’t work quite as well. In the end, Jason and Shirley is certainly worth spending just over an hour with; it’s the graphic nature of the content, rather than the quality of the filmmaking, that may frighten off some viewers. [Eli]

Nasty Baby

Nasty Baby is a bait-and-switch kind of movie, one that offers up a perfectly adequate story, only to pull the rug out from underneath audiences at some point in the third act with a dark tonal shift. Starring writer/director Sebastián Silva as a gay Brooklyn-based multimedia artist working on an exhibit of adults as babies, Silva’s Freddy gets extremely excited about the idea of becoming a father by artificially inseminating his friend Polly (Kristen Wiig); however, when Freddy’s sperm won’t take, he and Polly attempt to convince Freddy’s boyfriend Mo (Tunde Adebimpe) to become the donor. Freddy finds himself caught between Polly’s anxieties about her ticking internal clock, and Mo’s hesitation to launch himself into fatherhood. As it develops and introduces outside unsettling elements, Nasty Baby subtly builds the tension in its subplot until a climactic moment. Silva’s film serves as an intimate portrait of a group of characters that grow into family unit just in time to face an unthinkable challenge. [Zach]

Pervert Park

“Because of its subject matter, Pervert Park is a challenging watch, but one very much worth the effort. Over the course of the film’s lean 77-minute run time, the filmmakers find success in presenting their subjects as honestly as possible. They don’t ask for sympathy, but they do ask for consideration, and they earn it.” Read our full-length review of Pervert Park from Hot Docs earlier this year.

The Russian Woodpecker

If The Russian Woodpecker doesn’t turn out to be one of the most talked about documentaries of 2015, it will be a shame. Fortunately, the fact that it was awarded the Grand Jury Prize for World Cinema at this year’s Sundance Film Festival will likely help spread the word about this courageous and well-meaning work of nonfiction. The focus of the film is a man by the name of Fedor Alexandrovich who uncovers a terrifying theory regarding the potential true cause of Ukraine’s 1986 Chernobyl disaster. However, this is less a film about conspiracies, and more about how the notion of “conspiracies” can impact a person’s relationship with their friends, their family, their country and even themselves. Throughout the duration of its concise runtime, The Russian Woodpecker shifts from being a detailed history lesson to a political mystery to a character study of a man, his paranoia and his national pride. Crisp cinematography and sharp editing aside, this film is essential viewing for anyone interested in international politics or, as Alexandrovich himself would describe it, the ever-present ghost of the Soviet Union. [Eli]

Stinking Heaven

Taking place in 1990 and shot on Betacam video, Nathan Silver’s experimental Stinking Heaven feels like an ideal guide for showing off how improvisation can help and hurt a film. Silver’s film takes place at a New Jersey home, where married couple Jim (Keith Poulson) and Lucy (Deragh Campbell) host a group of people who, like them, are trying to overcome their battle with addiction. From the outset, the living situation is a fragile one, and with the arrival of a new member named Ann (Hannah Gross), the group dynamic turns into a toxic one.

Silver actually had his cast live together on set during the entire length of shooting, and let everything play out through improvisation. When this method works, Silver and his ensemble produce some remarkable results, giving the film a visceral energy that couldn’t be created through more conventional means. But for every sublime moment, there’s another that feels like watching an awkward actor’s workshop. It’s hard to shake the feeling that a lot of Stinking Heaven is a work in progress, as if we’re getting a glimpse into the cast beginning to explore their own characters. It’s an interesting combination of intensity (some scenes here can give Heaven Knows What a run for its money) and uncomfortable histrionics, one that works in fleeting glimpses, but it’s enough to see that Silver is working towards something special. [C.J.]

Tangerine

Filmmaker Sean Baker’s third feature Tangerine is a hilarious, raw glimpse into the lives of characters rarely depicted with a comparable level of complexity. This chaotic, colorful, vulgar adventure through the grimy streets of Hollywood follows two transgender prostitutes, Alexandra and Sin-dee (Mya Taylor and Kiki Rodriguez, respectively), as they spend their Christmas Eve tracking down Sin-dee’s cheating boyfriend and pimp, Chester (James Ransone). It’s the day after Sin-dee’s been released from jail, and as soon as Alexandra lets Chester’s infidelity slip while the two eat donuts, Sin-dee is out the door pounding the pavement in search of answers. Baker swiftly cuts from scene to scene keeping the pace of his film at a dizzying high. It’s a ridiculous amount of trashy, lurid fun to spend time in the company of these precisely drawn characters. Their sharp quips and flair for melodrama make Tangerine consistently entertaining. [Zach]

Uncle Kent 2

Remember Uncle Kent? No? That’s understandable, considering it was one of six films Joe Swanberg made back in 2011. The film was a funny, melancholy look at its title character (writer/animator Kent Osborne, playing himself) as he spends an awkward weekend with a woman he met on Chatroulette. Now, over 4 years later, Osborne wants to make a sequel, and in a meta opening sequence—directed by Swanberg, with directing duties for the rest of the film handled by Todd Rohal—Swanberg rejects Osborne’s pitch because he hates sequels. Swanberg does allow him to find someone else to make the sequel though, and in a matter of minutes the aspect ratio changes (from full-screen to widescreen) and Osborne starts jiggling his man boobs over the credits.

If you’re like me and find the idea of making a sequel to a barely seen micro-budget indie funny (a decision made even funnier by its recklessness, considering it guarantees almost no one will want to release it), Uncle Kent 2 is the film for you. The fact that this sequel owes little to the original means that Rohal and Osborne (who wrote the film) have carte blanche, and they make the most of it. Uncle Kent 2 continually makes one surreal and hilarious turn after another, starting with a weird visit to the doctor (Steve Little, who seems incapable of being unfunny) before involving Ray Kurzweil, Comic-Con, simulation theory and an apocalyptic scenario where people get datamoshed to death. It all amounts to a bunch of zany, frequently funny nonsense that will probably end up being the best sequel of this year (a specific honour befitting a film that’s all about specificity). Uncle Kent 2 is the sequel none of us knew we needed, and even though I can’t believe I’m saying this, I can’t wait for Uncle Kent 3. [C.J.]

Unexpected

After seeing the absolutely embarrassing treatment of Earl in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl—a stereotypical African-American character whose only purpose is to help the white, male protagonist become a better person—Kris Swanberg’s Unexpected feels like a breath of fresh air. The film opens with Samantha (Cobie Smulders), a Chicago high school teacher whose workplace is about to shut down, discovering she’s pregnant. It’s unplanned, but she decides to keep it, and soon finds out that Jasmine (Gail Bean), one of the best students in her class, is also expecting. Samantha decides to help Jasmine try to continue pursuing college applications, and the two strike up a bond.

It sounds like yet another mushy white saviour story that Sundance audiences eat up, but Swanberg and co-writer Megan Mercier have enough awareness to call out and avoid the pitfalls their story could fall into. Jasmine doesn’t turn out to be the poor, helpless student Samantha thinks she is, and Swanberg goes a long way to developing Jasmine into a fully-rounded character who really doesn’t need Samantha’s help. Smulders gives a fine performance (although it doesn’t match her excellent turn in Results from earlier this year), but the film’s MVP is Bean, who has an electric presence any time she’s on screen. Unexpected’s low-key nature might make it come across as slight, but it’s a surprisingly accomplished and slightly subversive take on a story that could have easily turned into something far worse. [C.J.]

A Woman Like Me

“Describing A Woman Like Me to an outsider gets a little complicated. When put as simply as possible its a documentary made by director Alex Sichel, who upon receiving the news that she has metastatic breast cancer decides to process this information by directing a film about a woman facing the same diagnosis with as much positivity as she can…while simultaneously documenting this process and her own treatment for what would become this documentary. It’s not quite a movie within a movie so much as it is two movies playing out side by side with behind-the-scenes footage playing at the same time as well. Confusing? Yes. Meta? Maybe. Moving? Absolutely.” Read our full-length review of A Woman Like Me from SXSW earlier this year.

In the midst of Birdman‘s onslaught of awards season, a new one-take wonder has emerged out of the Berlin Film Festival. Victoria is the new 134-minute movie from writer/director Sebastian Schipper that unlike its Iñárritu-directed counterpart, strings together scenes filmed in 22 different locations with a long shot unaided by any digital patching. The Berlin Film Festival entry is one of 19 films in competition at the festival, winning the Silver Bear prize for outstanding artistic contribution for cinematography. Victoria‘s earliest audiences were impressed by the boldness of its ambition, as well as the exhilarating story Victoria holds.

The movie stars Laia Costa as Victoria, a Spanish nightclubber who joins three men as they travel through Berlin partying, only to ultimately join Germans in a bank robbery. The dialog for the single-shot heist film was almost entirely improvised according to the film’s director. Victoria sold to Adopt Films in the U.S., with a plan to release the movie in late summer/early fall 2015.

Check out the Victoria trailer below:

This past Thursday we chatted with the stars of Alex of Venice, which closed out this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival at the Castro Theatre. Director Chris Messina, stars Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Don Johnson, and SFIFF57 Director of Programming Rachel Rosen spoke with us about Messina’s directorial debut, the festival buzz, and why Winstead will never call Don Johnson “Daddy”.

In Submarine director Richard Ayoade’s stylish Dostoyevsky adaptation The Double, Jesse Eisenberg impresses yet again in a dual performance as Simon, a pushover office drone, and his cocky, better-in-every-way doppelganger James. Though Simon has worked at the office for seven years, no one seems capable of remembering him, due to his socially awkward, subservient nature. New hire James–who looks and dresses exactly like Simon–begins to take over the office and bend their co-workers to his whim (including Simon’s crush played by the radiant Mia Wasikowska), Simon finds himself so trampled and transparent he might as well be nonexistent.

The film resembles a steampunk version of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, while also paying homage to myriad other weirdo auteurs like David Lynch and Orson Welles. Eisenberg is the perfect choice for the role(s), exuding the pitiful weakness of Simon and the brash dominance of James with equal adeptness. Ayoade’s taken a surprising turn following up Submarine, an entertaining teen comedy, with a dark, brutal, depressing film like The Double, but he proves he’s more than capable of handling such artfully ambitious material. The fact that the film is clearly derivative but feels uniquely Ayoade’s on the same token is astonishing.

One of the best singer-songwriters of a generation is given the tribute treatment in Nickolas Rossi’s Heaven Adores You, an intimate, revealing music doc about the life and art of indie legend Elliot Smith which made its world premiere at SFIFF57. Rossi, also an experienced DP, marries Smith’s hauntingly earnest music and lyrics with incredibly cinematic footage of Portland, the city synonymous with Smith’s legacy. Using a collection of photos, videos, and accounts from the people closest to the soft-spoken Smith, the film follows his story from childhood, through his prolific music career in which he moved millions, to his untimely death in 2003 to unexplained stab wounds.

Instead of following the tabloid route and sensationalizing the mystery of Smith’s death, Rossi lets the music dictate the form of the film. There’s a prevalent sense of Smith’s presence throughout the film, something most music docs are sorely missing. Audio of Smith’s guest appearances on radio shows has the chilling effect of making it feel as if he’s sitting right next to you, talking into your ear. Fans will be delighted at the tastefulness of the production, while the uninitiated will find a well-crafted introduction into the life and work of one of the greats.

The movie poster for Of Horses & Men is a hilarious head-scratcher: A depressed-looking man (Ingvar E. Sigurdsson) is mounted on a white-haired horse, head down in despair, as a black stallion takes his steed from behind. It doesn’t become clear just how emblematic the poster is until you’ve immersed yourself in Benedikt Erlingsson’s off-kilter, picturesque exploration of the bestial equity between man and horse. Later on, he mirrors the shocking horse-sex scene with one involving humans; surprisingly, the latter is no less cringe-worthy, and that’s sort of the point.

Erlingsson seamlessly weaves together a collection of short film-sized stories that take place in a small, horse-dependent village in Iceland. The quirky vignettes are comedic, grotesque, and strangely beautiful. In one, an alcoholic rides his horse into the ocean to catch a passing Russian boat and secure a jug of unearthly strong vodka. Another follows a Spanish tourist (Juan Camillo Roman Estrada) as he gets lost in the snow overnight with his horse and wrestles with the idea of resorting to the classic “Tauntaun” method of survival. What bumps the film up from minor to major achievement is its expert cinematography, which captures the majesty of horses unlike any movie I’ve seen, while capturing the stunning Icelandic landscape just as well. The film feels like a Nat-Geo special gone horribly wrong, in the best, left-field way possible.

In Jeremy Ambers’ Impossible Light, the first-time filmmaker follows the conceptualization, design, and construction of the gigantic piece of public art known as The Bay Lights. The project, dreamed up by Illuminate the Arts founder Ben Davis and designed by light artist Leo Villareal, had a crew of intrepid workers brave great heights, stringing thousands of LED’s up and down the suspension cables of San Francisco’s utilitarian western span of the Bay Bridge, sometimes under punishing weather conditions. That wouldn’t be the team’s biggest hurdle, however, as navigating a serpentine process of acquiring permits and raising funds almost squashed the project before they could hit the “on” switch.

Ambers takes the time to highlight the smallest details of the giant production, from the design of the clamps that hold the lights in place to the strategic placement of the lights themselves (so as not to distract on-bridge drivers). This attention to detail is fascinating and impressive, considering the 70 minute runtime. Ambers was essentially a one-man film crew, climbing to the bridge’s highest point with a camera strapped on, and the resulting footage is spectacular (and harrowing). In reality, there was no human antagonist vehemently opposing the project, but Ambers does his best to create a sense of urgency without the benefit of a human conflict angle. An uplifting film for a universally inspirational work of public art.

Sara Dosa’s debut feature, The Last Season, which screens today at Sundance Kabuki Cinemas as part of SFIFF57, is a multi-layered story about Kouy Loch, a Cambodian immigrant who resisted the Khmer Rouge, and Roger Higgins, a Vietnam vet. The former soldiers, traumatized by memories of war, find in each other the kinship they’d been searching for for years, healing one another through the power of empathy, companionship, and love. They quite literally forged a father-son relationship–Kouy was adopted in spirit by the hard-ass old-timer and his wife Theresa as their own son–forming a wholly unique, unbreakable family bond.

What brought them together you ask? The rare mushrooms, of course! Every fall, Southeast Asian immigrants convene in Chemult, Oregon to hunt for matsutake mushrooms, considered a fine delicacy in Japan. (They pay ridiculously high prices for them, making matsutake hunting quite the lucrative endeavor.) Each season, the seasonal workers erect a tent community they call “Mushroom City”, which is where Kouy and Higgins met. Dosa’s film is as complex, strange, and unique as it sounds, a film as rare and precious as the fist-sized fungi the hunters pluck from the soil.

During SFIFF57, we spoke with Dosa about the beauty of mushroom hunting, stumbling upon Kouy and Roger’s story, being frightened by Roger during their first interview, screening the film in front of her hometown, and more.

The Last Season screens today, May 5th, at 3:30pm at Sundance Kabuki Cinemas.

You’re a mushroom hunter yourself, correct?
Sara: I am! I’d say I’m very much an amateur, nowhere close to the mushroom hunters who were featured in my film. I go out every once in a while to hunt mushrooms, and it’s very enjoyable and addicting as well.

What’s special about mushroom hunting? What made you fall in love with it?
Sara: I think it’s twofold. For the people in my film, there’s definitely a love and enjoyment, but it’s also a love of labor. It’s how they make a living. For me, it’s all about discerning the relationship of the forest. You have to understand how the sky relates to the ground, or how the trees and soil interact. There are all these little pieces that have to come together, and it’s only at the right moment of interaction between all of these elements that a mushroom can be produced. I think there’s something so lovely about it from a metaphoric standpoint, but it also creates a treasure hunt feel. I think it’s really fun! It attunes your brain to the little details of the world around you.

How much fun was it to shoot these experienced hunters working in their element?
Sara: It was amazing! First of all, it was so generous of people to invite us into their worlds. For example, Kouy, my protagonist…he moves fast in the woods. We definitely slowed him down. (laughs) We embedded ourselves as much as possible. We really lived in the mushroom camp for the entire season. I can easily say it was the most meaningful experience of my life. I really loved it.

The film is about mushroom hunting, but it’s more about your protagonists and this remarkable family dynamic they’ve forged together. How did you come across them and their story?
Sara: When I met Kouy and Roger, this idea of unexpected interconnections made everything really click. You have all of these disparate elements: You have the the demand from Japan for this commodity, war in Southeast Asia, the ecology of mushrooms, family. Through the lens of unexpected interconnections, all of those things can become woven together. That’s what excited me most. Their story was about them and their relationship and could also be extrapolated to be much more.

When you set out to make the film, I imagine you weren’t expecting to find such a layered family story. Was it a surprise?
Sara: Yeah, it definitely was. We went in knowing that there would be stories everywhere, because it’s such a rich world. It’s so rare that you find Vietnam vets, immigrants from Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand living together, all with a shared history of war in Southeast Asia. We knew that there would be something interesting there. When I met Kouy, I was struck by the way he spoke about his family. He was calling Roger dad, and he made this joke. He was describing one of Roger’s war injuries and one of his own war injuries, and he said, “We’re both made of metal. We’re like father like son!” He started chuckling. I thought…that’s profound. They’re not biologically related, but there’s this bond there. The language that he uses to fuse their family relationship is a language of war. We were still in the process of filming many, many different story lines, but theirs always stood out as so powerful. Through the editing process, it kind of rose to the forefront of what we wanted to focus on.

Kouy and Theresa’s relationship is beautiful as well. You can tell that he relishes the fact that he can call her mom–he does it constantly. What was it like being around them in their home, sharing such a unique familial bond?
Sara: I loved it. I feel so grateful that I come from such an incredibly close family, so when I see families that are close, whether by blood or through a newly created kinship, I can’t help but feel a connection. Theresa is one of the strongest, most hilarious, kindest, and most surprising people I’ve ever met in my life. They were so inviting! It’s not every day that four twenty-thirty-somethings knock on your door and want to make a movie in your living room. They were gracious. It was very touching to see the love between Kouy and Theresa. And Roger as well, in his own stoic, cowboy way.

There are some interesting twists and turns in the movie, reveals about Kouy and Roger’s life that change the way we view them. What was it like structuring the movie, choosing when to reveal these bits of information about their lives?
Sara: From the very beginning, we wanted to focus on one season and have it contain the arc. Secondarily, we wanted it to be what we termed a “reveal structure”–you learn the most surprising things later on in the film. I think it’s really common to front-load films with all you need to know about the characters, and then the story follows. For us, the story is the reveal. You slowly unravel the layers, as if you’re digging into the soil, looking for a mushroom. It’s kind of a content-meets-form thing we were going for. Our film is about a search first and foremost, so we wanted our structure to really reflect that.

You capture the atmosphere of Oregon and the misty, forested surroundings very well. How important was it for you to bottle the aura of that place?
Sara: That was one of the things going into the film that was first and foremost. I love films where you feel immersed in a sense of place. Also, once you get to Oregon, you can’t help but be struck by the landscape. And it’s not just a gorgeous backdrop: for our characters, the woods is the site of war. It’s where they survived the Khmer Rouge and the Vietnam war, but now it’s turned into the site of their new life and their livelihood. it was very important to have the landscape featured prominently in the storytelling itself.

The making of documentaries are often about happy accidents, these unexpected moments that you’re fortunate enough to be there to film it. Can you remember an instance where you felt lucky to have gotten such a surprising, golden moment captured on film?
Sara: Sure! The first one that comes to mind is our very first interview with Roger and Theresa. We didn’t want to get into the war stuff yet, so we were asking them about the mushrooms. Basic questions. All of a sudden, Roger gets up and grabs a gun behind him! We were like, “Oh my god…he’s grabbing a gun!” We hardly knew this guy, and we knew he was traumatized from the war. It turns out he was trying to shoot this pine squirrel that was bothering him in the distance. He missed the pine squirrel, and he said, “I guess he gets to live another day.” That is so Roger. We were just relieved that he wasn’t going to shoot us! It was such a great way to introduce him in the film, because it shows his cantankerous character, but “I guess he gets to live another day” is Roger’s story. This was a season where every day mattered for Roger.

So…what is it about these freaking mushrooms? Have you eaten one?
Sara: Oh yeah. I’ve eaten so many! They’re delicious. They have a unique taste that a lot of Americans have ever tried. But in Japan, they’re a symbol of cultural identity. There are stories about how Japanese people came from the matsutake and how they’r essential for fertility. I’m Italian, and I always liken the Japanese matsutake love to the way Italians love garlic, if that makes sense. Some people don’t necessarily know the lineage of the matsutake, but they know that they love it and it’s a big part of their cuisine. There’s a complex relationship with the matsutake in Japan, but it’s deeply meaningful. It goes for super high prices and has created this entire economy that has fueled the livelihoods of the people in my film and so many more.

How was your first screening at the San Francisco International Film Festival?
Sara: It was amazing! It was a dream come true. I grew up here and I used to work at the San Francisco Film Society and at the film festival, so I couldn’t ask for a better place to launch my film into the world. The reception was incredibly warm, Kouy was there, and almost all my crew was there. I love them with a fiery passion! They’re the most amazing, talented people I’ve ever come across. Couldn’t have asked for more.

The 57th annual San Francisco International film festival has been taking over Japantown in the Sundance Kabuki Cinema and New People Cinema, and the lineup of films so far hasn’t disappointed, with domestic and international gems from all genres. We’re only a few days into the festival, and there have already been plenty of highlights that you should keep your eye on in the near future (most of these selections have secured domestic distribution), plus one major disappointment.

Let’s start off with the bad news. Part of the festival’s Late Show program, Ti West’s found footage horror flick The Sacrament gathers the usual suspects West pals around with on indie film sets (Joe Swanberg, Amy Seimetz, Kate Lyn Sheil, AJ Bowen) and throws them into a secluded encampment called Eden Parish, constructed and inhabited by people who have a creepily cultish way about them. The film is presented via two cameras our protagonists (Vice journalists) bring to the jungled community to film a profile piece.

Though brimming with talent as is per usual for the merry bunch of indie darlings, their gifts are wasted, as the film can’t avoid the pitfalls of the found footage format, breaking the docu-style illusion when it begins to look too much like a narrative feature in its overblown third act. West, ever the inventive filmmaker, does some interesting things with the limitations the camera, building a decent amount of suspense as the journalists sneak around the open grounds of Eden Parish, but The Sacrament is a disappointment coming off the heels of modern horror powerhouses The House of the Devil and The Innkeepers.

It’s clean sailing from here. Hellion (above), a gritty family drama by Kat Candler set in dusty Southeast Texas, flaunts an excellent cast of screen vets and new blood alike, all of whom deliver the goods in a big way. The film stars Aaron Paul as a widower trying desperately to get his act together as his oldest son (impressive newcomer Josh Wiggins), the titular hellion who’s obsessed with metal, motocross, and vandalizing their tiny town with his punk friends, begins to drag his younger brother (Deke Garner) into his world of dangerous hijinks. The town catches wind of the family’s chaotic home situation, calling child services and threatening to tear them apart forever.

The film is subtle and tasteful, and also has a killer metal soundtrack that jibes well with the dirt-road, tin can setting. Wiggins, who Candler discovered in a Youtube video, is as talented a child actor as I’ve seen in quite some time, especially for a first-timer. His potential is scary. Paul fits into the fatherly role quite well considering he’s coming off of the most definitive role of his career as a hellion himself in Breaking Bad. Juliette Lewis is surprisingly cast in a subdued role as the aunt of the troubled boys, and it’s a bit of a delight to see her excel in such an un-cartoonish role.

A funny and surprisingly dark odyssey movie, David Zellner’s Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter has an incredibly unique premise that never loses its novelty or charm. Rinko Kikuchi plays Kumiko, a Japanese office worker who finds a VHS copy of Fargo and sets out on a journey to the American city in search of the briefcase full of cash Steve Buscemi buries in the snow in the Coen’s classic, which Kumiko for some reason believes to be a documentary of some sort. Rinko is charming as Kumiko, the certifiable sociopathic, unstoppable treasure hunter, and the film, while comedic, also explores mental instability in a meditative, eerie fashion.

On a much, much lighter note, Ping Pong Summer (above) by Michael Tully  is an entertaining time warp for anyone raised in the taste-deficient 80s-90s era of Nickelodeon, B-boys, ICEEs, and arcades. Set in 1985, the film follows young Rad Miracle (Marcello Conte) who, while on a family vacation at a beachside resort town, meets his best friend, the girl of his dreams, the biggest bully in the neighborhood, and a former ping pong legend (Susan Sarandon). Wave after wave of ’90s nostalgia washed over me throughout the film, and I found myself mouthing “wow” constantly at how authentically cheesy the props, costumes, and sets are. Perfect watching conditions: afternoon on a school day, eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch, wearing neon shorts and L.A. Gears.

Absences

As director Carole Laganière’s mother begins to lose her memory from Alzheimer’s, she turns her camera to three other people suffering a major loss: a Croatian immigrant revisits her home country to find her estranged mother, an American author discovers an extended family his father kept hidden from him, and a French-Canadian woman searches for her missing sister in Toronto.

Laganière cuts between these four lives (including her mother’s) to explore the psychological impact of loss. As the author explains at one point, the feeling of loss transforms into a quest for something to fill the void. Unfortunately, Laganière fails to adequately communicate this idea through her filmmaking. Absences is mostly made up of bland observational footage of her subjects’ lives, making little room for exploring such a rich topic. The missing sister branch of the film is the most interesting, and could make for an interesting documentary feature on its own.

Guidelines

Jean-François Caissy clearly has Frederick Wiseman’s High School in mind with his latest film. Following a rural Quebec high school over a school year, Guidelines is like an artsy, more abstract version of Wiseman’s landmark documentary. Delinquent students are filmed in a dim office as authority figures in the school explain different rules the students must follow in order to avoid punishment (these meetings are referred to as “interventions”).

Caissy and cinematographer Nicolas Canniccioni film almost entirely in fixed, well-composed shots in the school and its surrounding areas. A brief interlude of teens playing around outside of school in the forest and lake highlight the conflict between the kids’ casual, fun lives and the strict rigidity of school. This effect is achieved through framing alone; scenes at the school look boxed-in, while the outdoors are filmed in long shots. Guidelines prefers to let viewers come to their own conclusions about what Caissy shows, a choice that ends up paying off nicely. It’s an engrossing look at teenage life backed up by terrific visuals.

The Engineer

Israel Ticas is the only criminologist in El Salvador, spending almost all of his time digging up dead bodies in unmarked graves across the country. A recent truce between El Salvador’s two largest gangs has seen murder rates plummet, but police and citizens describe this as a “smokescreen”; the number of disappearances keep rising, meaning the gangs haven’t changed their operations aside from covering their tracks.

The Engineer follows Ticas around as he travels from one site to another, discovering mutilated corpses and trying to punish those responsible. Ticas is a likeable subject, even if his obsession with death can get a little disturbing (his office walls are plastered with grisly crime scene photos), and his comments on how he deals with such a life-threatening job are fascinating to hear.

Directors Mathew Charles and Juan Passarelli take an unflinching look at Ticas’ work, but their use of vibrant montages makes for plenty of jarring tonal shifts. Case in point: After Ticas discovers a decapitated 8-year old in a well, a montage of city life set to upbeat music immediately follows. Charles and Passarelli might have used these sequences to underscore how natural death and violence is to people in El Salvador, but no matter what the intent is, it makes for awkward viewing. Other than that, The Engineer is an interesting look at Ticas and his grisly line of work.

In the small town of Chadron, Nebraska, math professor Steven Haataja vanished without a trace shortly after starting his new job. It took several months to find his body, and the discovery only brought on more questions. Haataja was found tied up to a tree, burnt beyond recognition, and there was no evidence of anyone else’s involvement. The case remains open to this day, with some believing Haataja either killed himself or was brutally murdered.

Chadron resident and writer Poe Ballantine was in the middle of working on his memoir “Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere” when filmmaker Dave Jannetta contacted him. Jannetta was interested in Poe’s memoir along with the Haataja case, and after discussions Jannetta came to Chadron to film a documentary surrounding the mystery. Ballentine weaves his own life story, Haataja’s death and the unique qualities of Chadron together in his memoir, and Jannetta uses a similar approach. Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere (the doc adopts the same title as the book) is not merely a crime story. Jannetta focuses on Ballantine’s own life, his family, and how he came to Chadron, while also profiling Chadron’s people and history.

In anticipation for the film’s world première at Hot Docs, Mr. Jannetta and Mr. Ballentine were gracious enough to answer some questions through e-mail about the film. The two men have very different personalities, but both share a mutual passion for the topics covered in their respective works. We talk about the difference between fiction and non-fiction filmmaking, the relationship between the book and film, facing obstacles while filming, what they hope the two works will achieve, and much more. Read below for the full interview.

Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere will have its world première at Hot Docs in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. You can find more information on the film here, and to find out more information about the festival (including all films playing, along with when to see them) go to www.hotdocs.ca.

Poe, your memoir was published last summer, and now Dave Jannetta’s documentary is premiering at Hot Docs. How do you feel about getting to see yourself on the big screen?

Poe Ballentine: I don’t really enjoy looking at or listening to myself, but Dave went to a lot of trouble so that I didn’t look like an idiot, so I’m going to try and be as cooperative as possible. I’m excited about the film because so much work went into it, and it’s fun to watch.

And Dave, how do you feel about getting to premiere your film at such a big event?

Dave Jannetta: After Love and Terror was accepted to Hot Docs I said to a friend, “It feels nice to be the pretty, popular cheerleader for a minute.” He thought captain of the football team was apt, but you get the idea. It’s difficult to get people to give a damn about anything and Hot Docs has definitely greased those skids. Making films independently is a slog and you can end up feeling like you’re creating in a vacuum. It’s hard to get solid, objective feedback. If festivals reject you they send form emails telling you it’s not your fault, there were just too many great films this year and “we’re sorry but we can’t tell you why yours wasn’t one of them.” You get really good at accepting rejection. I’m not positive what to expect from Hot Docs but they’ve been incredibly straightforward, helpful, and kind – exactly what a filmmaker hopes for. So I’m excited and thankful to be part of such a great festival.

[To Poe Ballantine] How did you feel when Dave Jannetta approached you about making the documentary? What made you decide to go along with it?

PB: I’m flattered anytime someone takes interest in my work, but because I work alone I thought the odds were pretty long of anything panning out between us. But he turned out to be everything you’d want in a documentarian, sharp-eyed, whip smart, funny, hardworking, detail-oriented, eager to learn, and you never knew what he might do next. I’d turn around and there he’d be in a Highland kilt, a bagpipe in his hands.

In the film, some of the people you write about in your memoir are able to speak for themselves, including your family. How did your wife and son feel about participating in the documentary? Did you learn anything new from Mr. Jannetta’s interviews with your family and the citizens of Chadron?

PB: My son is thrilled to be in a movie, my wife not so much. However I think she’s secretly pleased to be getting her beautiful mug on the big screen. Whenever you get a camera on someone and ask them poignant questions something juicy [is] bound to spill. Loren Zimmerman, the ex-LAPD homicide detective who unofficially took over the investigation, admitting that he was the most likely suspect in the murder of Steven Haataja was particularly enlightening [I thought].

[To Dave Jannetta] You’ve already written and directed one feature. Did you deliberately decide to go for non-fiction with your next film, and how would you compare the two types of filmmaking?

DJ: I often tell people that Rachel & Diana (my first feature) was my film school. It’s not a perfect film but I learned a ton. After Rachel and Diana I continued to work on narrative screenplays and was trying to make a living as a freelance filmmaker. That’s when I began thinking about possible documentary projects because it seemed to me they’d be less resource intensive but equally challenging. Then I came across a short description of Poe’s then in progress memoir [of] Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere.

I was most surprised at how the process of making narrative films vs. documentaries overlap and where they diverge. I’m not an avant-garde filmmaker, so at the most basic level I’m just trying to tell a really interesting story. It’s always the driving force. With a narrative film you basically get everything in place before you begin: screenplay, actors, locations, schedules, crew, etc. You should really be able to envision the final film from day one. Conversely, while making a documentary a lot of those things come in the reverse order. You have a vision of the finished project in mind but the capricious nature of the process doesn’t lend itself to rigidity.

Your film settles into a kind of rhythm as it goes along, going back and forth between the Haataja mystery and profiling Chadron itself. Was it difficult to develop this kind of structure during production? Did you ever have trouble in deciding what to focus on, or where it would fit within your film while editing?

DJ: Oh man – it was arduous to put it mildly. There were always three elements that were going to form the foundation of the film: Poe’s story, Steven Haataja’s story, and the story of Chadron itself. I was very familiar with Poe’s work before approaching him about doing [the film]. He spoke my language and I figured that what I knew of his life could turn into an interesting film no matter what. When we began shooting it was well before [Poe’s memoir] was published, so all I knew about it was a short description I’d read. For me, the unsolved death was intriguing but I had no clue where it would lead or how fulfilling that story thread would be. But I did know that I did not want the film to be an archetypal “true crime” documentary or procedural. And as soon as I arrived in Chadron on a scout trip and began meeting and talking to people I believed that if I could effectively capture a snapshot of what the town was like, people would find it interesting.

Poe Ballentine believes Steven Haataja was murdered, but your film gives time to different theories surrounding his death. How did your opinion on Mr. Haataja’s death develop while you were making your film, and where do you personally stand on the matter now?

DJ: It was like a pendulum. There isn’t a great deal of objective information surrounding the Haataja case so a good portion of what I was hearing was hearsay or not necessarily related to the death. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t have value. It was strange because I’d often talk with three or four people in a row who had similar opinions and it would really start to make sense. But I’d go back and look over the evidence or talk to three more people with divergent viewpoints and my opinion would flip. It’s really difficult not to suffer from confirmation bias – to have a preconceived conclusion and place extra emphasis on the evidence that supports it – but I think it’s imperative to keep an open mind to all possibilities. Occam’s razor can be helpful, but the assumptions start piling up pretty quickly and one hypotheses ends up as riddled with holes as the next. While I wouldn’t go on record saying I think it was a cold blooded murder I will say that I think, at the very least, someone else was involved or knows what happened. I realize that’s a cop-out and the fact that I couldn’t get a definitive answer is (in my opinion) a failing of the film. But life’s endings are rarely served neat and I think an ambiguous conclusion is fitting. At least for now. Steven’s story is incomplete – it’s built upon first and second hand accounts, conjecture, rumor, and a few solid pieces of evidence. But I guess that’s how history is usually written.

Since the documentary isn’t exactly an adaptation, how would the two of you characterize the relationship between the film and memoir?

DJ: I’d say the film and the memoir parallel each other and that I hope the experience of one enriches the other.

PB: Even though it has a lot of fancy writing in it, the core of my memoir is journalistic. Dave is more interested in faces, landscape, local color, and letting people talk. We’ve both examined the way in which reality is filtered and altered by whoever’s turn it is to tell a story, which explains why collaborative accounts such as news and even history itself so often miss the mark. Both of our projects are grounded in the central mystery and the portraiture of a small town reacting to a spectacularly tragic event, but I think Dave is more stylistically content with an open ending. While text gives you more room for laughs, asides, and waxing philosophical, film is better at straight exposition. We also attempt to retrace Steven’s freezing moonlit journey across private ranch land to the place where he was found, and I think the film does a better job than my book of showing how prohibitive and unlikely that venture was, at least on foot. Both of our examinations were intended to invite more information in the hopeful solution of this case. In this and many other ways I think our two projects make good companions.

Mr. Haataja’s family have publicly expressed their dislike with your documentary along with Poe Ballantine’s memoir. Since you didn’t have access to the people who knew Steven Haataja best, my question is how you, as a documentary filmmaker, try to compensate for these kinds of restrictions. How do you adapt yourself to give a fair portrayal to your subject(s)/subject matter, even if you aren’t able to include some key perspectives?

DJ: Perspective is the key word in your question. I did talk with Steven’s family early on, and their discontent with the book and film are articulated on various blogs and message boards. I had to do a lot of soul searching and tried to keep up a dialogue with them throughout the process but it’s not much fun to be reviled. Who should be able to tell Steven’s story? Is it exploitative for people who didn’t know him to undertake projects that outline some of the details of his life and death? It’s a moral grey area and I’ve had emails from people who knew Steven both excoriating me and thanking me. But that’s where the most interesting stories live. Black and white is too easy, it’s boring. It’s when the questions you’re asking are in shades of grey that you’ll tend to find the most value. All that being said – without Steven’s family on board [and for budgetary reasons] I made the decision fairly early on to restrict the perspective to the town of Chadron. Even though Steven only lived in town a short time before he disappeared I feel like I was able to find people who had an understanding of him as a person and who could communicate the essence of who he was. The tragedy of Steven is only one element of the film. If it were entirely about Steven and his death I do think [it would be exploitative].

I will say, however, that the process was made much more difficult after an edict from [Steven’s former employer] forbid their employees to discuss the case with me. This was after a meeting in which their director of communications seemed amenable to the idea of the documentary. I’ve even heard rumors that they now put something in their contracts for new employees saying they can’t discuss the Haataja case. What are they trying to hide?

The memoir wasn’t actually finished while filming took place (It was published in the summer of 2013, and you can buy a copy here). Did the filming process influence the writing process, and vice versa?

DJ: When I first arrived in Chadron, Poe had an umpteenth draft of the book that was basically shelved. He hadn’t been able to get it right, was worried about how the town would react, and was almost relieved that it was resting quietly in the shadows. He even remarked to me at one point that he hoped it could be published posthumously. I decided that I wouldn’t read a draft right away because I wanted the film to be its own entity. But I was interacting with [Poe] daily while we were filming so his ideas were seeping into the film whether I liked it or not. As I started conducting interviews he went back to his book and started [revising]. After about a year I read a draft of the book and we were able to talk more clearly. On subsequent trips we worked hard, watched movies, discussed books, ate homemade seafood étouffée, drank, and above all talked about stories. And these things, more than the book itself, impacted the actual production and editing process.

PB: Dave’s film gave me a chance to review every aspect of the case from another perspective, so it’s a much more thorough, balanced, and accurate treatment than it would’ve been without his intervention. I also started carrying around a megaphone and calling everyone “babe.”

What do the both of you hope Love and Terror on the Howling Plains of Nowhere will achieve, and are you concerned with how Chadron will react?

DJ: The case of Steven Haataja’s death is still unsolved, and I think there’s more to the story. I hope that the combination of the film and book are able to knock something loose and lead to a resolution. This might not happen right away but the film will be around for people to examine. Maybe in 50 years when I’m sucking pureed brussels sprouts through a straw in a convalescent hospital someone will finally be able to put all the pieces together and figure it out.

As one of the interviewees says in the film, “If it had been a fucking football coach who disappeared they would’ve called in the National Guard.” I’ll add that if Steven was an attractive blonde female or privileged white male they wouldn’t have rested until they had all the answers. Part of the tragedy is that Steven was a quiet, gentle, cerebral wallflower. This story wouldn’t have been told if they’d found him right away. But I don’t blame Chadron as much as contemporary America. I loved it out there, made some great friends, and hope to go back often. I don’t think I portrayed anything or anyone unfairly but that doesn’t mean I won’t piss some people off. So yeah, I’m a bit concerned. But as Poe wrote to me in an early email, “It’s quite possible, since Haataja was burned alive, that there is still a killer at large, and dozens of citizens, some dangerous, will not be happy to see their accounts presented or their deeds come to light, and so the risk in this is not only artistic, but that’s of course the very quality that makes it fascinating.”

I also hope the film does its part to nudge Poe from the literary shadows. And I’d obviously like audiences to see and enjoy the documentary, to spend a little bit of time pondering the positive effect of one man’s life on a small community, the way in which facts sometimes have very little to do with the truth, and that the truth is gossamer anyway.

PB: Mr. Jannetta and I have discussed this extensively. We both want standing ovations and frenzied women ripping off our clothes. We’d also like to put Chadron on the map and prove once and for all that the place called Nebraska really exists. As with the book, most will be pleased by the documentary, but there will be grumps, rubes, dorks, loafers, and killers who’ll choose not to like it. Vive la difference!

Now that I’ve seen over a dozen of Hot Docs’ selections so far, I can see patterns begin to emerge between films. The three films profiled in today’s piece, all of which are the best documentaries I’ve seen so far at the festival, share a common narrative. The subjects in The Overnighters, Watchers of the Sky and The Creator of the Jungle are all people wanting to do what’s right for them or others, and despite constant resistance from everyone else they never stop fighting. These narratives form in different ways; a pastor tries to “love thy neighbour,” even if it destroys his life; a group of people try to prevent genocide, and bring those responsible to justice; and one man refuses to give up his childlike sense of imagination and creativity even as outside forces give him no choice.

Three different stories, all of them containing a fundamentally strong narrative. These are the kinds of films deserving a bigger audience, and the reason why festivals like Hot Docs exist. To learn more about the three films, including how to get tickets, go to www.hotdocs.ca.

The Overnighters

“I don’t say ‘no’ very well…so it’s easier to say ‘yes’ and live with the consequences.”

Virtue is a burden in Jesse Moss’ The Overnighters. Taking place in Williston, North Dakota, Moss begins his film by exploring the town’s increase in popularity as oil companies in the area hand out high-paying jobs to anyone willing to work. This leads to an influx of people from all over America, arriving with the hope of getting a job. Pastor Jay Reinke starts allowing dozens of new arrivals to sleep in his church (or in their cars in the church’s parking lot) until they can get back on their feet. Moss then shifts the focus of his film to Reinke’s battle with the town, as their hostility to the out-of-towners (fueled in part by the murder of a local teacher) begins a campaign to shut down Reinke’s program.

Moss clearly has one hell of a story to tell, and watching Reinke’s world fall apart as he stubbornly continues to help new arrivals is riveting. Sometimes The Overnighters feels like Moss is forcing what he has into fitting the narrative he wants to tell (some moments feel rehearsed or set-up, giving a reality TV vibe), but for the most part Moss does an excellent job weaving his footage into a gripping drama. And if the insanity Moss captures from Reinke’s battle with his town isn’t enough, a devastating last-minute revelation ends up redefining everything that came before it. The Overnighters is a roller coaster, and will most likely end up being one of the best documentaries this year.

Watchers of the Sky

Raphael Lemkin was a Polish lawyer who spent his life trying to make the crime of genocide punishable by law. Lemkin actually coined the term genocide, and his own experiences (deportation in WWI, losing his entire family to the Nazis in WWII) fueled his desire to see that people responsible for mass killings would face justice for their actions.

Director Edet Belzberg uses Lemkin’s story to examine how society still remains apathetic to acts of genocide occurring around the world, using a narrow focus to address a topic of such a large scale. US Ambassador Samantha Power (whose book inspired the doc) tells Lemkin’s life story while detailing recent examples of atrocities; Rwandan Emmanuel Uwurukundo tries to help refugees in the current genocide occurring in Darfur; Ben Ferencz tries to continue Lemkin’s legacy, lobbying the UN to consider war-making a crime against humanity; and Luis Moreno Ocampo, Chief Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court at The Hague.

Belzberg uses her four subjects well, with Power covering history/context and the other three showing their difficult battles to continue in Lemkin’s footsteps. The result is a beautiful tale of people fighting valiantly for what they know is right, even if they might never live to see any results. The film’s moving ending (and one of my favourite moments of the year), where Fenecz explains the title’s meaning, is a perfect summation of the grueling hopefulness these four people put themselves through. All these people can do is hope that, if they don’t succeed, their work will make it easier for the person who does.

The Creator of the Jungle

The Creator of the Jungle is the kind of story that needs to be seen. Garrell has spent 45 years of his life building his own world in a forest near his house, only to see it repeatedly attacked by others. The documentary chronicles over 2 decades of Garrell’s life, as he continues destroying and rebuilding his creations just so he can keep playing on his own. It’s a can’t miss title at Hot Docs, and one of the more delightful films of the year so far.

Read our full-length review of The Creator of the Jungle HERE and stay tuned for an interview with director Jordi Morató.

With almost 200 documentaries playing at Hot Docs, the amount of variety on display is quite staggering. Social issues, personal stories, biographies, abstract docs and true crime stories are some examples of the plethora of topics regularly seen at the festival every year. This group of four films highlight the vast differences and fundamental similarities between the many films presented to audiences over the next two weeks. These four docs (a meditation on labour, a writer touring across America, a tragic story of injustice, a group of outcasts  uniting together to entertain) look different on the surface, but all of them focus on human stories.

The Hot Docs Film Festival runs from April 24 to May 4 in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. To find out more information about what’s playing or buy tickets, go to www.hotdocs.ca

Joy of Man’s Desiring

Denis Côté’s latest film opens with a close-up of a woman speaking to someone off camera. “Be polite, respectful, honest. Or I’ll destroy you if I want to,” she says calmly. What follows is 70 minutes of mostly wordless footage of industrial workers at their jobs, with the exception of some fictional conversations between workers (actually actors) toward the end.

Côté addresses plenty of big, rich ideas throughout Joy of Man’s Desiring. The relationship between man and machine, the kind of non-stop, repetitive tasks that come with working, and how humans try to find accomplishment or happiness through their mundane work are some of the more interesting topics brought up in the film. Côté doesn’t do much with his film’s themes though, seemingly content with just bringing them up rather than exploring them.

While Côté’s substance lacks depth, his style seriously impresses. His precise framing, combined with Nicholas Roy’s editing along with terrific sound design by Frédéric Cloutier & Clovis Gouaillie, makes Joy of Man’s Desiring an aesthetically pleasing experience. It’s an  interesting docu/fiction hybrid, but a minor work nonethless.

Harmontown

Dan Harmon, the creator of Community, is also the host of a podcast that Harmontown gets its title from. Harmon is known for being completely honest with people, and when he got a little too honest about behind the scenes drama on Community NBC fired him. Harmon used his unemployment as an opportunity to take his podcast on a live tour across America, taking co-host Jeff Davis, “Dungeon Master” Spencer and girlfriend Erin McGathy along. Director Neil Berkeley has made a funny, raw and enjoyable documentary that can appeal to fans of Harmon as well as people unfamiliar with his work.

The point Berkeley makes throughout his film is how Harmon’s openness about his problems (at one point he brings an audience member on stage to mediate a serious argument between him and his girlfriend; another time he dedicates his show to discussing depression with audience members), along with his ability to bring humour into these serious topics, has a therapeutic effect on people. Different people tell Harmon how Community helped get them through personal traumas or finally gave them confidence to do things they wouldn’t normally do (one woman says she would have been “too chickenshit” to meet Harmon if it wasn’t for his show). This message is best exemplified through Spencer, an introverted Dungeons and Dragons fan who went from an audience member at a taping to a fan favourite on the podcast.

Before Harmontown slips into praising its subject too highly, Berkeley steps back a bit to show how self-destructive and self-hating Harmon can be. At first he’s taken aback by the generosity of his fans, amazed that they’re happy to just watch him be himself, but eventually he starts to hate being seen as a hero. Most of Harmontown‘s last act goes into much darker territory than one would anticipate, and that decision is what elevates this beyond a boring road trip doc. Harmontown may not be a very memorable documentary, but it’s funny and entertaining enough to earn a recommendation for Harmon fans (not that they need one).

No Lullaby

No Lullaby is a powerful documentary, but an incredibly tough one to sit through. Director Helen Simon films Tina Reuther, a woman now in her late 50s dealing with the suicide of her daughter Floh. Tina was sexually abused by her father as a child, and for years she repressed those memories while trying to make her own family. It wasn’t until Floh was in her early 20s that she admitted Tina’s father also sexually abused her since the age of 5, and Floh’s decision to take her grandfather to court leads to devastating consequences.

Interviews with Tina and one of Floh’s friends are intercut with a narrator monotonously reading transcripts of the trial. The sterile quality of the narration, combined with Simon’s stark footage accompanying it, make Floh and Tina’s graphic testimonies hit like a gut punch. The tactic is extremely effective, and by the time the jury reaches its verdict it’s hard not to feel numb from how much injustice is on display.

Viewers willing to handle the tough material should watch No Lullaby, as its impact is undeniably strong. Through her simple and artistic approach, Simon handles Tina’s story respectfully, putting the emphasis on how much society failed Tina and Floh. The implication that Tina stayed alive because of her silence might be the most disturbing aspect of No Lullaby; stories like hers are necessary reminders of how much the systems meant to help victims can end up hurting them even more.

Stay tuned to our Hot Docs 2014 coverage for an interview with No Lullaby director Helen Simon.

Before The Last Curtain Falls

“Gardenia” was a stage show made up of transsexuals and drag queens in their 60s and 70s performing pieces based on their lives. The show became a surprise hit, and its performers spent two years travelling the world doing shows. Before The Last Curtain Falls starts as the “Gardenia” cast come back to their hometown of Ghent, Belgium, to put on their final show.

Thomas Wallner combines performances from “Gardenia” with profiles of several cast members, getting a sense of their lives as they get ready to end their two-year journey. The cast make for an expectedly eclectic bunch: Danilo works full-time as a janitor at a brothel; Richard is a nurse who left his job to follow his passion of performing in the show; Gerrit used to be known as Sylvia, but in his older years has gone back to living as a man in order to work.

A portrait begins to emerge of this group of people as constant fighters, and amazingly their strength doesn’t appear to have weakened one bit. They’ve all led difficult lives, but even in “the autumn of their lives” (as the opening titles state) they’re still looking for love and happiness. There’s a level of defiance and individuality to “Gardenia’s” cast that’s admirable all on its own.

And when Wallner does film everyone together on stage the results are excellent. The cinematography is gorgeous, and some moments in “Gardenia” are moving when combined with the terrific camerawork. The repetitive, meandering final act feels like the film is desperately looking for an ending before giving up, but it’s “Gardenia” and its cast that makes Before The Last Curtain Falls worth seeking out.

San Francisco’s Another Hole in the Head genre film festival comes to a close tonight at New People Cinema, with the world premieres of The G-String Horror Demon Cut, a horror film by Charles Webb set in the streets of San Francisco, “re-cut by demons”, and Senn, a sci-fi otherworldly fantasy by Josh Feldman. Celebrating its tenth year, the festival welcomed dedicated genre film-lovers with open arms, screening the bloodiest, strangest, most excessive fims in the horror, fantasy, and sci-fi genres out there.

Below are my thoughts on a trio movies we saw at the festival. One, Thanatomorphose, was so mesmerizing in its yak-inducing body horror that I’m still thinking about it, and while the other two weren’t quite as enrapturing, all three were welcome, bloody distractions from the super-serious films I’ve been drowning in during this festival season.

For more reviews from the festival, click here.

Thanatomorphose

A body horror opus that would make David Cronenberg blush, Thanatomorphose is the sludgiest, blackest, stinkiest piece of cinema I’ve seen smudged across a movie screen maybe ever. And you know what? I dug it (not at first, but ultimately, yeah. I dug it). Following a lonely young woman and taking place exclusively in her Montreal apartment, we watch as she falls into an increasingly disgusting state of bodily decay that’s so visually vile and unwatchable to the weak-of-stomach, thanks to the intimate and patient style of director Éric Falardeau and cinematographer Benoit Lemîre.

The film opens with our lonely protagonist (Kayden Rose) screwing her douchebag boyfriend (with a perfectly douchey French-Canadian Montreal accent).  Our girl somehow contracts the titular disease that at first manifests itself as small bruises. Then, as the days wear on, the symptoms get worse and more gruesome: her skin begins to rot, her nails fall off, her bones become more brittle. Every step of her degradation is filmed as up-close and personal as possible, testing even my stomach (it’s usually pretty hard to gross me out). Falardeau’s camera is always uneasy, swaying from side to side, framing everything way off-center, creating a sense of constant unbalance. As our girl’s body grows more grotesque (maggots eventually begin to feast on her blackened, dead flesh), Falardeau shoves our face in it and makes us watch every detail, with shots that linger much longer than most could stand.

The crawling pace of the film moves a slowly as the bile and puss dripping down Rose’s almost always-nude body, and is at first hard to latch on to. But, I began to fall in step with the lurching rhythm of the film, I was induced into a buzzing, nightmarish state that had me riveted. There are a couple deeper themes and metaphors at play here, touching on agoraphobia, loneliness, depression, and female self and sexual worth. But really, what’s fascinating is Falardeau’s terribly disturbing imagery, an unblinking, patient depiction of a woman wasting away to nothing, physically, mentally, sexually, and spiritually.

Motivational Growth

Yet another gross-out film that takes place entirely in an apartment, Motivational Growth is a silly, irreverent, bizarre film about a guy named Ian (Adrian DiGiovanni) and his relationship with a talking giant piece of mold (looks more like a piece of shit) on his bathroom floor. Ian is a complete slob, and his rotting, filthy apartment (which he never leaves) is a reflection of his mess of a life. When his ancient television set (which he’s named Kent) breaks down on him, he throws a panicked fit and tries to kill himself, but fails and ends up bumping his head, which presumedly leads to him having perceived conversations with The Mold (Jeffrey Combs).

The film goes on way too long, and while Ian’s conversations with The Mold are worth a chuckle, at least, his human interations–with a snappy grocery delivery girl (Hannah Stevenson), his hulking landlord (Pete Giovagnoli), and his pretty neighbor (Danielle Doetsch)–are poorly acted, too long, and only worth a shrug. Stylistically, director Don Thacker excels, with unique, trippy editing, wonderful set design, and enjoyable, off-kilter dialog (particularly between Ian and The Mold). Worth a look for midnight-movie heads, but for no one else.

Bath Salt Zombies

A potent strand of bath salts have been circulating the New York drug scene, turning people into devoted junkies. But these aren’t your run-of-the-mill, paranoid coke-heads; they’re violent, crazed, flesh-eating, Bath Salt Zombies! Resembling a pothead student film, director Dustin Mills’ crack at the zombie genre doesn’t excel at anything, though it seems Mills and his crew probably had a good time making it, which is definitely worth something. The various characters–some junkies, some government officials trying to contain the epidemic, some dealers–are almost all amateurishly acted, and the nothing plot is a patchy string of sloppily produced set pieces. An “action sequence” sees a DEA agent taking down a group of criminals in the hallway of a suburban household and looks like it was made by Boondock Saints-loving high school kids. Maybe I would have liked it better if I were on bath salts…