Spank's LFF Diary: The Wrap Party 2003
Sheryl Crow Fanclub
Although seeing ten films might qualify as a lot by most people's standards (present company excepted of course), I can't help feeling that I merely skimmed the surface of the festival. I bet there were some really good ones out there waiting to be discovered. I say that because my film of the festival, The Stroll, was literally picked in order to bring my number of films up to ten (I like even numbers you see). Thus whereas I always considered that Russians spend their days walking around in fur coats, eating nothing but snow, and saving up their roubles for a new Kalishnikov or Lada, it turns out they are just as hedonistic, materialistic, soccer mad, horny, and totally bonkers as we all are in the West (of Europe that is). This leads me to think how many other gem movies like this were out there, that I missed.
The Principles Of Lust qualifies not only as the worst film I saw at this festival, but the worst film I have ever seen period (oh dear, I wish I hadn't have used that word). Other disappointments: The Human Stain (I don't know what was more ludicrous, Kidman and Hopkins as a couple, or Hopkins as a reverse Black & White minstrel). The Fog Of War (part of a depressing trend towards the dumbing down of history). Now Or Never (missed opportunity). Fail Safe (archive classics are all well and good, but this one showed its age).
Back on the plus side: In The Cut (sexy, moody and a tour de force for Meg Ryan, for a plot that could easily have turned into a late night Channel 5 movie). Dogville (adult fairy tale, that scores highly for originality of approach). Also Wilbur and The School Of Rock (neither being groundbreaking, but each made me smile and laugh respectively).
I was very impressed by the crowds at the festival with every one of my ten (with the exception of Now Or Never, playing to full houses). Less than impressed, however, by the total inability to get these films to start on time (fifteen minutes late being the average). Also the fact that three of said films had either no introduction or Q&A afterwards, I find to be a scandal of such monumental proportions that I am never coming again (maybe).
Finally thanks to Spank for giving me this outlet for my inane scribblings (or typings whatever), the highlight for me of his highlights being his troubles at the Lumiere.
The Belated Birthday Girl
Best of the Fest:
1. Last Life in the Universe
2. 21 Grams
3. Memories of Murder
4. I'm Not Scared
5. Kiss of Life
Best of the Rest: Zatoichi, Save the Green Planet, Kitchen Stories, Grand Theft Parsons.
The only bad film I saw in this year's festival was The Return of Cagliostro, although there were a few others which were somewhat disappointing. Last Life in the Universe and 21 Grams were, for me, way ahead of the rest of the pack, and, to be honest, whittling the top 9 down to 5 was a bit tricky. Of the disappointing films, special mention needs to be made of Battle Royale II. While this was a huge disappointment, and had none of what made Battle Royale such a terrific film, it still deserves to be seen, if only for the breathtaking anti-American message.
Overall, another good festival for me, with a very high hit rate of good or better from my 35 films and events, including a Surprise Film which was a lot of fun.
Spank
Best film? With 39 features, two programmes of shorts, two live events, and three films where I had to cheat and watch them on DVD, it's been pretty hard this year to narrow it down to a couple of favourites. But on the penultimate day, it was Zatoichi which effortlessly tap-danced its way to the top of my chart. I went in there with six months of buildup and anticipation, expecting the act of actually watching the film to be an inevitable letdown: but it did everything I'd hoped it would do. In no particular order, the rest of my top five includes the high-adrenalin documentary of Touching The Void: the ferocious storytelling skills of 21 Grams: the cunningly worked psychology of Memories Of Murder: and the intricate play with levels of existence in Kiss Of Life. But there are quite a few others that only just missed the cut: if I could find a way of stretching the concept of 'five' to also include I'm Not Scared and Save The Green Planet!, I would.
As for the bad ones, The Return Of Cagliostro stands out by a country mile. Quite what this was doing playing in an international festival beats me. There are some kinds of comedy that travel well, but there are others that can barely survive the journey from the camera to the processing lab, and this was definitely one of the latter. Of the rest of the bottom five (again, in no particular order), Wilbur (Wants To Kill Himself) was just too weakly derivative to be enjoyable: Battle Royale II: Requiem and It's All About Love were major disappointments by people from whom I'd expect better: and I'd kind of gone into Twentynine Palms already expecting it to be shit, but sometimes it's just nice to confirm your prejudices.
And finally, the usual collection of acknowledgements to wrap this monster up for another year. Thanks to Sandra Hebron and all her staff at the LFF for another great festival. Thanks to the Pals for the comments and the company, as ever: The Belated Birthday Girl, Sheryl Crow Fanclub, The Cineaste, Lesley, Jon and Anna. Thanks to the FU Posse, especially FilmFan, Malcotraz, djo1, seldomseenkid and anyone else who was around that I missed. Thanks to the staff and management of the various festival cinemas, even the Cine Lumiere (to be honest, Suze, I didn't find the request "votre billet s'il vous plait" all that troubling), and especially the caterers who've finally turned the NFT caff into somewhere worth visiting. And no thanks again to the Hand And Racket, formerly the Official Pub Of Spank's LFF Diary, where the twattification of its staff appears to have progressed apace since last year.
In case you were wondering: within 24 hours of the festival finishing, I was back at the cinema again, this time to see The Matrix Revolutions. A disappointment, to be honest: some good set-pieces towards the end, but the first hour drags arse like a dog with worms. Still, if the last two weeks has proved anything, it's that I'm not going to let the odd mediocre movie put a dent in my cinema obsession any time soon. Being a monkey, and all.
November 10th 2003
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