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Berlinale 2017, Day 7 (O-bi, o-ba)

This screening was by far the emptiest I have seen during this Berlinale. Even “Himmelskibet” had a full house, and Danish dude was surprised by it. Mostly it can be blamed on the time slot: nobody wants to watch a film at the Zeughauskino from 9.30pm to 11pm, and “O-bi, o-ba” is some obscure Polish science-fiction film without a notable fanbase to speak of. The Japanese films had the weeaboos, “Letters from a Dead Man” had the Russians and Pirx had the Estonians. (In fact, I distinctly remember somebody trying to get into the screening with the argument “I’m an Estonian journalist!”) For a change, I got to the cinema at a good time and enjoyed finding a decent seat with lots of space around me.

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O-bi, o-ba: Koniec cywilizacji (O-Bi, O-Ba: The End of Civilization)
Poland 1985, Piotr Szulkin, 89′

After a nuclear catastrophe, about 2000 humans are left on earth, hiding within a protective “dome” about the collapse. They believe that an Ark will come to save them, and the belief has been propagated by the government to motivate people to survive. As Soft, a public servant, realizes that the dome cannot be repaired because the only engineer alive who could refuses to do so, he tries to look for an airplane and get out of the dome with his girlfriend, the prostitute Gea.

I will forever remember “O-bi, o-ba” as the film that was even more devastating than “Letters from a dead man”, another nuclear winter story and thus very comparable at least when it comes to the premise. Perhaps this is mostly because I expected something very different. Overall I expected more comedy in a film that features Jerzy Stuhr, and indeed the film cannot be completely taken at face value. Many scenes are so grotesque that they are definitely supposed to be funny, apart from your obvious stab at the Bible and the likes. However, the doom and gloom is overwhelming, and the neon colors contribute to the grotesque nature of the world even more.

When I picked the film, I saw Jerzy Stuhr on a screenshot and thought the title was amusing. (It turns out the title is inspired by the babbling of the director’s daughter, which is awesome.) Unfortunately, neither seem to be really able to contribute much to the film. The title is literally nonsense and Jerzy Stuhr may be doing a good job, but he’s essentially an everyman in the film, except with more knowledge and insight than the others.

Until the devastating ending, “O-bi, o-ba” has many interesting aspects to offer. I liked the character of the engineer who refuses to fight a futile fight and the one of Soft’s boss who is slowly going more and more crazy, I enjoyed the part where Soft looks for a Bible only to realize that nobody cares for it, and I was amused to find out that the starving people are fighting over food made out of recycled paper.

But the ending, oh wow. Compared to “O-bi, o-ba” every single dystopian film I have seen has some sort of hopeful ending, or the end itself doesn’t really have that much of an emotional impact (like in “Melancholia”). “O-bi, o-ba” literally ends with humanity dying while the people foolishly believe they are being saved. I also had a soft spot for that young boy who grabbed onto Soft and believed in him, only to be disappointed. I believe Soft was intending to help him judging by the sad look on his face when he found the boy again, and the boy’s demise was much sadder than any other death I have seen at the Berlinale, including the absurd death that Soft’s girlfriend Gea fell into (yes, she literally fell to her death out of her misguided belief in the Ark that will save them all).

For awhile, I wasn’t sure if I could fall asleep after seeing this nightmare of a film, but I was lucky because I got over it quickly after all. I can see why so few people wanted to see this kind of devastating film, but I think it deserves to be brought out of its obscurity even though (or maybe because) it was so uncomfortable for me to watch.

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Berlinale 2017, Day 4 (Test pilota Pirxa)

After a very long Sunday (lining up for tickets, have brunch, watch 3 films) my Berlinale week (Monday-Thursday) essentially consisted of a film in the morning and then another one or two in the evening. Unsurprisingly, I fell asleep during many of them, with this film being the first one. In retrospect it was a shame, and I have the suspicion that falling asleep actually made me appreciate the film more than I maybe would have otherwise, because the others who attended it (Loris, Danish dude) did not seem to be big fans of it. As a result, the insecurity over what to think about this film combined with my falling asleep actually made it harder for me to blog this film than “Letters from a Dead Man” where I had anticipated it would be tough.

This is also the only film that I placed into the “after O comes home from daycare and before he goes to sleep” time slot which I normally try to spend at home, because I really, really wanted to see it. My dad was very nice and came home early from work, but then it took me almost 1 hours 45 minutes to reach the movie theater, and I got there 5 minutes before the screening started.

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Test Pilota Pirxa (Pilot Pirx’s Inquest)
Poland/USSR 1979, Marek Piestrak, 99′

As human-like androids (“nonlinears” as they are called in the film) are being built, it is being discussed whether they should be allowed for mass production. In order to test whether the nonlinears are capable of replacing humans, Commander Pirx is sent with a 5-man crew to Saturn and tasked to make a recommendation on whether mass production of such robots is appropriate. Among these 5 men, some are human and some are nonlinears, but Pirx does not know who is what. When they reach Saturn, one of the nonlinear crew members tries to sabotage the whole operation and kill the human crew in the process…

First of all, I went into the film not really knowing what the story would be about, I just read “based on stories by Lem” and saw the title and that was enough for me to pick the film. I think I fell asleep when the committee decided upon giving Pirx this important task, and I woke up when the first guy started telling Pirx whether he was human or not (and make assumptions about what the others may be). This is the kind of premise or mystery that I am really, really into. I enjoyed the human-robot interaction, the crisis that the rogue robot provoked and this concept that human weakness ended up winning over the perfection of the robots.

I was also into the courtroom drama that came at the end. Loris thought that it was too much telling and not enough showing, but I didn’t notice that at all. The discussion was much about the nature of humans vs. robots and reminded me of that famous Data episode in Star Trek The Next Generation.

Unlike “Ikarie XB 1” and some of the other titles at the Berlinale which apparently were quite influential, “Test Pilota Pirxa” seems to be an utterly obscure title with pretty unimpressive visuals and a nice but not overly innovative story. As for me, I’m quite into said story. Moreover, It’s still bugging me that we never get to learn whether the awkward engineer was human or nonlinear. I know that his antics were primarily comic relief and of little consequence for the rest of the film, but I cannot help but wanting to know.

It amused me quite a bit to see that the film was a partially Estonian production, and very popular in Estonia where kids grew up with the film and fondly remember it as adults today. (As for me, I thought Arvo Pärt’s music made for a great accompaniment to the film.) I can definitely see how the film would be memorable for a 10-12 year old.

Maybe I fell asleep through the boring parts of the film, and maybe it is true that there are better ways to handle the human-robot interaction topic, but for me the film was perfectly suspenseful and enjoyable. Since it’s always pretty easy to motivate Pip to watch a sci-fi movie, perhaps I will have a chance to revisit this film one day.

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Berlinale 2015, Day 5 (Pod electricheskimi oblakami)

Yesterday, I actually felt a lot of energy for writing blog postings, but I was generally tired and the thought of writing this particular one was just too daunting. I cannot predict what is going to happen, but it’s entirely possible that I will fall asleep exhausted after writing this one. We will see.

We saw the film under harsh circumstances: It was a late screening at the International, I was horribly sick and I drove there in the cold, then drove Loris and then myself back. I almost didn’t go (in which case I would have given my ticket to Pixelmatsch instead), and while watching the film definitely did not help my sickness, I am glad to have seen it. Where else to watch a Russian movie than at the International?

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Under Electric Clouds (Pod electricheskimi oblakami)
Russia/Ukraine/Poland 2015, Alexey German Jr., 138′

In 7 chapters and an epilogue, the film tells the stories of different people all somehow related to an abandoned construction site of a modern high-rise building: An immigrant who does not speak Russian who used to work on the site, the heiress whose late father held onto the building like a pet project, a girl who gets kidnapped and taken to a place on the construction site, a museum tour guide whose historical workplace is being destroyed by the workplace, the architect who designed the building oh and I almost forgot that real estate lawyer (mostly because his story is the most remote from the others, or so it felt to me). Their stories only loosely come together at the very end, but also not really. More than anything, the film is some sort of parable on life or society or existence itself.

The movie is amazingly slow, but I found myself mesmerized with its wintery photography (much fitting the weather we had in Berlin these days – the cold and the mist in the film mirrored Berlin’s perfectly), and not for a moment I was in actual danger of falling asleep. Especially in the first part, before I had a feeling for what the film was about, I was mostly confused and had a hard time understanding how the film worked. Even by the end, I don’t think I really ‘got’ the film, mostly because it simply has too many layers despite its slowness. This is definitely the kind of film I would want to watch again in order to catch more details, but it’s also not really going to be a joy to revisit. Just like how I rarely re-read Chekhov’s plays (though I have) because some of them are simply too tragic to bear, “Under Electric Clouds” is also rather apocalyptic, gloomy and ultimately depressing. Nevertheless, the film is beautiful, deep and wonderfully constructed – it’s definitely not for everyone, but it was for me.

I personally find myself revisiting the film in my mind over and over again, and I doubt I have spent as much time reflecting upon a Berlinale film ever. The beauty of its cinematography is absolutely stunning, and I thought it was a nod not only to Tarkovsky but also to Zvyagintsev’s “The Return” (I have not yet seen “Leviathan”, but I definitely plan to). Critics say the film is all about Russian society, but the Russianness of the film is much deeper than that. It’s like an exercise in film and literature history, and the spirits of some of the greatest Russian artists continue to live in these characters, especially Sasha and the tour guide. That is how I see it, without knowing all too much about those great Russian artists.

Speaking of Sasha and the tour guide, they were definitely my favorite characters. I was very amused that the architect appeared (I kept expecting that he would) and he was certainly interesting, but there was something so beautifully Chekhovian about how both Sasha and the tour guide are facing their own fall, the former in the form of her father’s death and the disappearance of the glory of her previous life, the latter in the form of losing his job which was pretty degrading to him to begin with. Both are also lovably smart and deadpan people, and I thought they were weirdly attractive too. (Mr. Tour Guide also looks like a Russian Stannis Baratheon, that litte detail made him somewhat comical.)

There is also another scene in the film that somehow continues to haunt me, which is Sasha’s scene with her horse. I kept wondering why she didn’t check on her horse first thing coming home (probably because narratively it doesn’t really make sense, so I will suspend disbelief), but other than that, this scene was absolutely terrifying. To me, it was emblematic of the tragedy she is going through, and I was deeply touched by how she cried over her dying horse. It is because of these kinds scenes that “Under Electric Clouds” feels more true to me than most other films, and which made the film one of my most memorable Berlinale films.

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Berlinale 2013, day 6 (the value of perseverance)

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Senzo ni naru (Roots, ?????)
Japan 2013, Kaoru Ikeya, 118′

Naoshi is an 80-year-old lumberman and farmer, living in Rikuzentakata, one of the towns completely swept away by the Tsunami of 2011. Having lost his son, but not the house he built himself 55 years ago, even though it was flooded until the second floor, he toughs it out and perseveres against almost everyone’s wishes trying to rebuild his house so he can spend his last years there, remembering his lost son.

TL;DR most wonderful stubborn old man ever. I’m not crying, there must be onions hidden nearby.

He is old, he is stubborn, but at the same time he is also incredibly determined to not let the Tsunami win. Naoshi tries all he can to convince his neighbours and family to not give up the town and fights for rebuilding together with some friends and acquaintances even though the city and prefecture try to dissuade them. One incredibly moving moment is Tanabata of 2011 (July 7th): the city celebrates their traditional festival on this day and is known for its demonstration of giant wooden floats crashing into each other in a reverse tug-of-war. Three of the four floats representing the districts have been swept away so it looks like there will be no festival, however Naoshi succeeds in motivating the local youth to try and with his help (he is still a very skilled lumberman at his age) they manage to repair the remaining float and to hold the festival. At the end one of the young residents, after thanking everyone for coming, cries out that they will not be defeated and that they will rebuild. Cue everyone on and off screen crying. The film alternates between those stories of little achievements and setbacks (especially when dealing with the government) and little tidbits about Naoshi who is just wonderfully witty, especially when he explains how he once did “research” while bathing so he could carve a big wooden penis for a local fertility shrine: “Now it’s not as magnificent and hard as this wooden one anymore.” Unfortunately he does not reveal where he got his “inspiration” for the giant wooden vulva on the other side of the shrine.

For the Q&A we had the director and cameraman. Both were overjoyed about the long applause (I suppose it will be the longest I witnessed at this Berlinale) and the director read a message from the “stubborn old geezer” as he called himself, because he could not come to Berlin due to his health. In a very teary moment (I guess the director just cries easily) he explained that his cameraman lost his son too, a few months before the earthquake so that is probably the reason why Naoshi was able to relax around them so they could get him to talk and get this wonderful portrait of a simple, but proud and witty man.

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Sieniawka
Germany, Poland 2013, Marcin Malaszczak, 126′

Docufiction about the homeless and residents of a mental asylum in Sieniawka, a little village in Poland’s weird southwestern Appendix bordering massive open-cast mining of brown coal.

TL;DR just don’t watch it

If a movie does not have plot it can somehow save itself by having a great atmosphere or style, or the way round. If it lacks both, screens at night and I am tired then I just walk out halfway. Dialogue and plot were nearly nonexistent and the mood shots of the open-cast mining and the mental asylum were neither interesting nor “beautiful” So I did the unthinkable and just like many others fled the scene.

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Berlinale 2013, day 2 (the value of progress)

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W imi?… (In the Name of…)
Poland 2012, Ma?go?ka Szumowska, 102′

Father Adam, a catholic priest in rural Poland, is both a successful youth social worker and a pained homosexual. He has been able to somehow suppress his feelings but after being moved to his newest village church where he establishes a center for delinquent male youths and meets the eerily quiet son of a farmers’ family things get tough.

TL;DR closet suffering slice-of-life

Adam’s story is depicted with lots of blatant symbolism, referring to the passion of Christ and many obvious devices as hand-held cameras in scenes of turmoil or sweeping shots for moments of clarity and transcendence. It sounds like something which should fail easily, however it becomes obvious that it is done deliberately and somehow it works, especially for creating the few moments of comic relief which make Adam’s life seem bearable. The story is full of both little moments of happiness and personal tragedy, both serious and comic. For the former there is a quite wonderful scene where after Adam teaches Lukasz to swim they get themselves lost in a huge corn field, running around and screaming like monkeys, only hearing each other. One of the best tragic scenes is when Adam drinks himself unconscious and dances with the Pope. Szumowska shows a very sympathetic but also human picture of Adam and his troubles, on one hand he does go after those adolescent boys straight out of puberty, on the other he is cautious and loving and never forces any of them, it’s just that as a priest his love can not be. It is a surprisingly good picture of a man in constant turmoil.