Interview: Todd Haynes (Carol)

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Dec. 14 , 2015)

What were the most significant changes you made adapting the novel?

The novel was told entirely from the character Therese’s perspective. The script tried to create access to the character Carol as well. We needed to be very careful about that. For example, the first time you enter Carol’s world is when the mail truck delivers her the gloves from Therese – so we’re literally transported into it, through the handiwork of this girl with an infatuation. But my biggest change was a structural one. One of the first films I thought about was David Lean’s Brief Encounter. I love that structure where you only fully understand what something means after coming all the way through the story and returning to the beginning.

The fact that these two characters are both women isn’t the defining part of their love story. Do you think this would have been possible 10 years ago in mainstream cinema?

Of course, there have always been stories about love between women. Mädchen in Uniform (1931) was a pretty big movie. Or The Children’s Hour (1961), with two major stars. When we assume everything moves in this one, forward momentum, we’re missing the interesting, circuitous leaps forward and backward that history takes.

What do you think is the relevance of this film today?

For me it wasn’t about, “Look how far we’ve come! Look how much better or easier it is now!” I think the predicament of being in love is just as perplexing today as it ever was. Also, surprisingly, coming out still seems fraught with unimaginable challenges even though the cultural landscape is so different. But social media is a distorting factor, for example. And I think proclaiming who you are is still a tender, awkward event.

When did you find your own identity?

Oh, I still haven’t yet. I don’t know I believe in identity as anything locatable. It’s always changing, always somewhat artificial, imposed from the outside, willed from the inside. That’s what interests me in all my films, whether it’s these women in domestic settings or artists acting out and refusing stable identity models.

You’ve worked with Cate Blanchett twice now. Can you talk about that experience?

The thing I’ve learned from all these actors I’ve worked with is that the things most people think actors don’t care about, like the visual style, framing, point of view, etc. – they do care about them. For Cate in this movie, what’s remarkable to me is that she knows she’s playing the object of Therese’s desire, but she’s also playing a real person. She can’t be too available to the spectator when she’s being conjured by this girl. Somehow she knows how to do that, which is so fascinating to me – to be both inside and outside the character.

What do you think has changed in LGBTQ cinema since the start of your career?

I think we’ve gained a lot and we’ve lost a lot. It’s not the same world at all as the one I came out of during the late 1980s, early 1990s. All the progress we’ve made since then is necessary, but it also means a critical perspective and a position outside the main, dominant society has sort of been surrendered for assimilation and acceptance. You know, “Being just like everybody else – but gay!” That is something I think Jean Genet is still rolling over in his grave about. Or maybe not – maybe he’s blowing his gay marriage whistle from the grave, who knows?

Youth

(Originally appeared in EXBERLINER on Nov. 26, 2015)

Addressing mortality and existential anxieties in an often lighthearted manner, albeit not from the end of life you'd expect, is the somewhat misleadingly titled Youth. Starring the old acting legends Caine and Keitel as a retired orchestra conductor and a film director well past his prime, it follows the quibbling odd couple as they wander around a luxurious resort in the Swiss Alps. In between ogling a scantily-clad Miss Universe and chatting up an otherwise colourful ensemble of hotel guests, the two argue about everything from the failed marriage of their children to the woman they both fell in love with decades ago, inadvertently triggering surges of memory that lead to unforeseen outcomes.

Booed at its Cannes premiere, the movie does err on the side of pretentiousness from time to time. Its foray into full-out dramatic territory, especially, backfires with a whiff of new-agey faux-profundity. But by and large, the brilliantly-seasoned performances and Sorrentino’s impeccable taste still lift the fabulous-looking and -sounding picture to a place of artistic, stylistic grandeur.

Ever the classic thespian, Caine brings his trademark impenetrable composure to the screen, adding mystique and just a hint of cruelty to this amicably detached character. Keitel is on fire here, delivering one perfect wisecrack after another like nobody’s business. In a cameo appearance, Jane Fonda also delights as a magnificently wrinkled, furiously bitter diva from the past. It’s a joy to watch actors of this caliber do what comes so naturally to them. You only wish all that acting showcase framed within such downright erotic visual yumminess could have culminated in a note that actually reverberates, instead of this piercing but rather forced falsetto.

Interview: László Nemes (Son of Saul)

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on Oct. 8 , 2015)

Is it true that the film was turned down by the Berlinale?

That is true. They didn’t want us in competition at least. I had thought, for the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, it would be a good film for Berlin, but…

On the other hand, the movie didn’t only make Cannes competition, which is rare enough for a debut feature, it went on to win the Grand Prix as well. Can you talk about the whole Cannes experience?

Well we knew pretty early on that we’d be in Cannes but we didn’t know in which section – we thought, maybe Un certain regard. And then came the news right before the official announcement that we’d be in competition, which was really quite a shock. To be honest it was scary, too. But we knew of course that this would give our film the kind of exposure it wouldn’t get otherwise. I also think the slot the festival chose to put us in – early on in the fest, low-profile – was suitable for the film.

Before going there, I had thought it’s going to be just superficial excitement, but when we actually presented the film, it was an almost spiritual experience. You feel a connection to the film, to the festival, to the audience. When I was walking into the theater, it felt like everything was in slow motion. And it was the first time that the cast and crew reunited after the shoot wrapped almost a year ago, so it was very special.

Most debut films would be impressive if they show ambition or have a brilliant idea. Yours is – on top of that – also technically accomplished. Where did you learn to do that?

I was an assistant director for years. I was an assistant to Béla Tarr in Hungary for two years, which taught me the basics of not just filmmaking, but high-level filmmaking – in terms of how to choreograph a scene, how to stage complicated shots, how to work with a professional crew etc. Also I had made three short films before this. And I had built a relationship to some key creative crew members over the years: the DP, the production designer, the sound designer. On such a foundation I can communicate with them effectively. It’s like we’ve been doing rehearsals all this time.

Talk about the technical achievement of the film, can you share how the astonishing cinematography came to be?

My cinematographer (Mátyás Erdély) is my age but he’s much more experienced – he’s shot like 15 features films. I think to shoot this film did require that kind of experience too, because this is a film where the cinematographer must be not just very good, but also someone who could resist the temptation to shoot a beautiful movie. The images needed to have a raw quality, not a pretty one. So I think it was important that he has had all that experience, for he’s past the stage of his career where he was just concentrating on pretty lighting, framing, and compositions. He understood the fact that visually, we needed something low-key, simple and raw. With that understanding we were able to speak the same language throughout the shoot. Before this we had made three short films together and he’s a cinematographer who’s involved even on the screenplay level. He asked me all the time about the story. For him it’s always story first. In fact we established a set of codes for this movie which we actually wrote down. Rules like: this is not a beautiful film. No beautiful shots. There would be no aestheticizing the suffering of the people. Or that the camera should be trained at eye level, making it a very subjective experience. Also, to use more or less only one 40mm lens because we wanted something that’s close to the human perception. And we didn’t want anything iconographic that would distract people’s attention. The movie should look a little messy, with an uncertain, unfinished quality.

And why this aspect ratio?

We were deciding between widescreen and the narrow academy aspect ratio. In the end we found that widescreen – although it would have looked very nice – would have been too… cinematic, it would have made a spectacle out of the background, made the background so stylistically important that we would lose the portrait-like focus we wanted for the film.

So you wanted the film to feel like a portrait.

Yes, we wanted it to be like a portrait because it’s about one man’s experience in hell. We’re all companion to the main character, he guides us through hell.

Can you talk about making the main character as non-verbal as he is?

These men are dead. This is something very central to how we approached the characters. These are special people. They’re so beyond traumatized they don’t function as normal human beings anymore. So our main character, like the others, is sort of a robot. He’s like someone who’s already dead but comes back alive or suddenly finds some life inside. So it had to be approached in a very low-key manner. The way these people are confronted with sufferings and the constant presence of death, why would they even be talking? As closed up as they must have been, it couldn’t have been natural for them to communicate their inner feelings. So that is a basic trait of our main character.

In fact we can’t even be sure if it’s really his son at all, can we?

Yeah it’s something that keeps coming back. And I think it’s essential to the story to try to discover who, what this boy is, and also to contemplate the implications of both possibilities. The viewer must consider both scenarios. In the end, I think the question we can ask ourselves is: does it matter if it’s his son or not?

The implications might be even more powerful if it’s not.

Yes, absolutely. A lot of people in the crew – I’m not going to say who here – think the boy is not his son.

Have you noticed different reactions from different audiences with this film?

I haven’t travelled enough to assess that. But overall I feel a strong engagement on the part of the audience every time, whether in Europe or North America.

What do you think is the relevance of a Holocaust film like this today?

I think people never had a direct, visceral understanding of what it might have been like to be inside a concentration camp, to be caught in the middle of an extermination machine. There have been attempts to approach it in a more intellectual manner, but not viscerally – to put you in the shoes of someone in that situation. It’s something that cinema can achieve, this kind of direct, intuitive relationship between the individual audience members and the character. We lack empathy in the sense that there’s a distance when we think about the camps in abstract terms. So I hope this movie can help make people really feel what it’s like to be oppressed and destroyed in our human experience. Also, if we consider Holocaust as a myth and not as something that took place in this world – I mean, Auschwitz was a factory, built by people and not by martians – if, as a civilization, we don’t address the genocidal tendency in our nature, how can we prevent such atrocities from happening again? So – maybe I’m being optimistic here – I think that’s something that cinema can do, to speak to the human in the audience. From there we can draw our own conclusions and the message becomes universal.

So it’s not just anti-Semitism that you’re trying to address with the film.

Absolutely. Of course, Jewish people have been subject to so much hatred for a long time so it’s specific in this sense obviously.

68. Cannes Film Festival

Personal highlights from the 32 movies I saw at the 68th Cannes Film Festival:

Best film: "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)"
Runner-up: "Cemetery of Splendour"
honorable mentions: "The Lobster", "Carol", "Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse (My Golden Years)"

Soldiers sleep and goddesses come out to play as the boundary between this world and the next blurs in "Cemetery of Splendour" (u.l.); the conservative times of 50's America don't make it easy for an innocent shopgirl who falls for a married socialite and mother in "Carol" (u.r.); a young woman trained to kill in 9th century China realizes she still hasn't mastered the ways of the heart in "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" (central); memories of that one special girl haunt a Frenchman with the intensity and bittersweetness of first love in "Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse (My Golden Years)" (l.l.); finding a partner has never been such a matter of life-and-death as in the dystopian future of "The Lobster" (l.r.)

Best director: 侯孝賢 (Hou Hsiao-Hsien) ("聶隱娘 (The Assassin)")
Runner-up: Apichatpong Weerasethakul ("Cemetery of Splendour")
honorable mentions: Yorgos Lanthimos ("The Lobster"), Todd Haynes ("Carol"), László Nemes ("Saul fia (Son of Saul)")

Best lead actor: Benicio Del Toro ("Sicario")
Runner-up: Jesuthasan Antonythasan ("Dheepan")
honorable mentions: Vincent Lindon ("La loi du marché (The Measure of a Man)"), Harvey Keitel ("Youth"), Michael Caine ("Youth")

(top to bottom) Mysterious consultant leading an elite US government task force to crack down Mexican drug cartels may have an agenda of his own in "Sicario"; former Sri Lankan freedom fighter finds refuge in France but must resort to his old skills as deadly violence breaks out again in "Dheepan"; middle-aged man fights for his livelihood and dignity as the world looks on with fatal nonchalance in "La loi du marché (The Measure of a Man)"; a retired conductor and a once-prominent director retreat to the luxurious seclusion of a Swiss hotel only to be confronted with the regrets of their lifetimes in "Youth" 

Best lead actress: Rooney Mara ("Carol")
Runner-up: Lou Roy-Lecollinet ("Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse (My Golden Years)")
honorable mentions: Kirin Kiki ("あん (An)"), Cate Blanchett ("Carol"), Marion Cotillard ("Macbeth")

Best supporting actor: Josh Brolin ("Sicario")
Runner-up: Ben Whishaw ("'The Lobster")
honorable mentions: Patrick Stewart ("Green Room"), Guillaume Gouix ("Les anarchistes"), Sean Harris ("Macbeth")

Best supporting actress: Olivia Colman ("The Lobster")
Runner-up: Sarah Paulson ("Carol")
honorable mentions: Jane Fonda ("Youth"), Léa Seydoux ("The Lobster"), Angeliki Papoulia ("The Lobster")

Best screenplay: "The Lobster"
Runner-up: "Inside Out"
honorable mentions: "Carol", "Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse (My Golden Years)", "Dheepan"

Best editing: "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" 
Runner-up: "Cemetery of Splendour"
honorable mentions: "Green Room", "Saul fia (Son of Saul)", "The Lobster"

Best cinematography: "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)"
Runner-up: Saul fia (Son of Saul)
honorable mentions: "Cemetery of Splendour", "Sicario", "Tale of Tales"

The imminence of death and the desperate urgency of surviving Ausschwitz recreated with terrifying immediacy and vividness in "Saul fia (Son of Saul)" (top); ethereal beauty and Gothic spook blended on an eye-popping tapestry of bloom and blood in "Tale of Tales" (left); the quiet hum of afterlife captured on expertly composed, seductively neon-lit imagery in "Cemetery of Splendour" (bottom); deadly terrain of the Mexican drug empire shot with equal mystique and menace that mark the human intrigue at play in "Sicario" (right); the art of colors and shadows elevated to the level of distilled poetry in "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" (central) 

Best art direction: "Tale of Tales"
Runner-up: "Youth"
honorable mentions: "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)", "Cemetery of Splendour", "Carol"

Best costume design: "Tale of Tales"
Runner-up: "Carol"
honorable mentions: "Macbeth", "Youth", "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)"

Best film music: "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)"
Runner-up: "Tale of Tales"
honorable mentions: "Sicario", "Carol", "Dope"

Best musical number: group dance in "Cemetery of Splendour"
Runner-up: "Perfidia" by Cristina Alfaiate in "As mil e uma noites - Volume 3, o encantado (Arabian Nights - Volume 3, The Enchanted One)"
honorable mention: silent rave in "The Lobster", "Reality" by The Retrosettes Sister Band in "Youth", final rap by Shameik Moore in "Dope"

You'd stare too at this gloriously bizarre and endlessly joyous spectacle near the end of "Cemetery of Splendour" (u.l.); Léa Seydoux doesn't just lead an army of loners but has a penchant for techno music as well in "The Lobster" (l.l.); delicious indie pop served with chilled Alpine air carefully savored from all sides in "Youth" (u.r.); no need to see when Princess Scheherazade opens her mouth to sing that timeless, wondrous tune in "As mil e uma noites - Volume 3, o encantado (Arabian Nights - Volume 3, The Enchanted One)" (central r.); protest, rant, celebration all in one smashing, uproarious, proudly black closing performance in "Dope" (l.r.)     

Best sound: "Sicario"
Runner-up: "Saul fia (Son of Saul)"
honorable mentions: "Green Room", "Dheepan", "Tale of Tales"

Roundtable interview: 趙濤 (Zhao Tao) (山河故人 (Mountains May Depart))

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on Jun. 1 , 2015)

Some call "Mountains May Depart" Mr. Jia’s love letter to you.

I don’t see it that way. "Mountains May Depart" has actually been on his list of films to make for over a decade. The project just never came to be. When he told me he was going to make this movie last year, he described to me in very simple terms that it’s a love story spanning 26 years. Which meant of course that I’d be playing someone from her twenties to her fifties. This prospect really excited me. As an actress I think it’s a great fortune to come upon a role who lives through such a long period of time. It allows such breadth in a performance.

Was it a bigger challenge for you to play the younger or the older version of the character?

I think the hardest part was to put all three stages of this character side by side in one movie. In the 1999 segment, I had to come across as this guileless young girl. When she’s in her forties, I must look like a mother who’s already been through a lot. And in her fifties, I wanted to make the audience see an aged but happy lady. The character must seem real at every stage. Only when you can buy into her, would you be able to buy into her story. That has been the biggest challenge for me.

How did you go about achieving this goal?

To achieve that goal, I concentrated on many little details. For the 1999 segment, I conjured up and maximized the innocence in me. Act a little spoiled, let out squeals, break into running abruptly… When Jinsheng’s car was trashed, my character’s only response was: “Everything all right?” Watching it, I had to laugh and think: “What a foolish girl.”

In the segment 2014, this woman has just had the most painful experiences of her life. She lost her father and had to make a decision on the custody of her child, which she eventually gave up. At this time of emotional hardship, we’re looking at an entirely different person than the one from her youth. My hope was that the audience would be struck by their first look at this familiar but also new character, that they could tell this is somebody who has lived. To this end, I chose big, long hair for her look and had no make-up on. I hoped that, with all the spots and wrinkles plainly exposed on the big screen, it would be a face that touches you, one that tells a story; that when you see a face like this, you could feel the existence of the character. I also lowered my voice during this part of the story.

To give you an example of how I perceived the inner landscape of Tao: the scene where Liand’s sick and I went to visit him featured the same location with the same people, only 15 years have passed. Both then middle-aged and perhaps no longer sharing any romantic feelings for each other, but their friendship and their common past still bound them. So when Liand said; “I hope this is not asking too much of you,” my character replied; “No, it’s the least I can do.” The scene really moved me as I was playing it. I think this is what life and humanity is about. So the presence of Liand brought further complications to Tao’s emotional state in 2014, which ultimately led her to forego child custody.
Or the scene where she was standing by the river with her son and telling him; “Mom can’t give you much. It’s better for you to stay with your father.” That was a difficult scene to shoot because we were near a bridge with a lot of traffic we had no control over and I had to be in that complicated state. After the first day of shooting, I was not satisfied with my performance. On the second day, I finally sank into that feeling. I realized that, even though the lines weren’t long or epic, those were the hardest words for a mother to say. At the same time, she didn’t want to show her child the pain she was feeling. She wanted to keep up this strong, independent appearance in front of him.

For the segment of 2025, I took off my contact lenses. In my fuzzy view of the world, the sense of distance felt right to me for playing somebody that age, where you still see things, but not that clearly anymore. I also shrunk my eyes a little to portray the light aversion, hunched my back and dragged my steps a bit. But above all, I wanted to portray an old lady who’s happy and content. Even though she’s had a lot of misfortune and is now living in solitude, I wanted her to have a smile on her face. So in this whole late segment of the film, we see a smiling old lady, walking her dog in the snow, who suddenly hears a familiar melody from the past and can’t help but break into a dance. For that dance scene, my instruction from the director was simply “Stop crying”. Actually he was already shedding tears behind the camera when we were shooting the happy dance scene for the 1999 segment. So he knew that, after playing this character through these stages of her life, I would definitely be touched by the final dance sequence. And indeed, for the first couple of days, the tears just kept pouring out of me in the middle of the scene despite all my attempts at restraint. Through that final dance, as simply choreographed as it was, I hoped to convey all the joy, pain and loneliness of a woman’s life.

The movie seemed to really strike a chord with the Cannes audience.

On the night of the Cannes premiere, I watched the film on the big screen for the first time just like everybody else. I think the audience responded to it because this movie is about emotions that we’ve all experienced before or will experience at some point. It’s about something universal that we can all relate to.

You’ve worked with Mr. Jia Zhangke on many films by now. Was it any different this time around? 

The biggest difference this time – which I really appreciated – was that he finally shot the movie by the script. It never used to be that way. Usually he would only give me an outline of the story or the character and we would start filming. On "Still Life", for example, there was simply no time for screenwriting because houses were being torn down every day. So he would only tell me what my character’s name was, her age, what she did etc. We were literally fighting against time on that shoot.

This time around, he was able to shoot the film completely according to script. It was such good news to me, because it gave me plenty of time to prepare. I got to go to Fenyang, sit by the road and observe the people passing by. That I got to experience life in Fenyang was hugely important to my portrayal of this character. Also, I finally had time to discuss my character with the director face to face. It never happened on previous films because he was always too busy with other matters. This time we even had time for rehearsals! It was all just wonderful.

Has pop music, which is prominently featured in the film, informed you of your performance? 

Not really. I grew up learning classical dance in a very conservative environment. We were hardly exposed to any popular entertainment at all. So I never had much impression of pop music. Not until I first became part of Mr. Jia’s team – back in 2000 for "Platform" – did I suddenly realize I’d never heard of all these songs. I’ve only started to learn more about pop music through his films since then.

Some critics have noted that the movie “derailed” in the third part. Did you feel that way while watching it?

I didn’t feel that way. I knew going in that the movie wasn’t evenly divided between its three parts, but watching it at the premiere, I didn’t even notice the disproportion. That detail just completely went past me. For me there was no “derailing” in the third act. What it did was allowing me to imagine how we’ll live 15 years from now.

There are elements of melodrama in the movie. How did you make sure the performance didn’t become melodramatic?

By believing in the feelings of the character, I think. In the first segment, the key to portraying the young Tao is the fact that at she believes in what she feels. There are no ulterior motives to her choices. Back then the living standard was completely different from what we’re used to today. Actually Liand and Jinsheng were equals in 1999. They couldn’t have known that in 15 years’ time, their circumstances would become so drastically different. Tao couldn’t have known that either. She was won over by Jinsheng because he was a proactive guy and cared for her well-being, helping her get the CD back in time, for example. I think all young girls would be touched by such gestures. So I believe in her feelings.

Do you see Mr. Jia in the characters of the movie? It’s conspicuously set in Fenyang again. 

Not really. I understand why all his films are set in Fenyang. I also grew up in the Shanxi province. Our hometowns are about 1.5 hours apart by car. His description of Fenyang, the city, the people, the mentality, how it looks and sounds, all strikes me as authentic. He chooses Fenyang as background for his movies also because he has so many memories there.

Roundtable interview: 賈樟柯 (Jia Zhangke) (山河故人 (Mountains May Depart))

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on Jun. 1 , 2015)

Some are calling Mountains May Depart your most ambitious project to date.

I think it might actually be the least ambitious film I’ve made so far. At the same time, I would also call it the most intimate. It’s the film that speaks to my own emotions and experiences the most closely since "Platform". Most of my other films like "Still Life" dealt with societal changes and what they meant for individuals, whereby the existence of the individuals was always on the line, so their personal feelings only played a minor role.

As time went by, I entered my forties and have accumulated more and more memories. With it came the urge to tell a story that’s more about my emotions. And I also needed to tell this story at this stage of my life, because it probably won’t describe how I feel when I’m in my fifties.

As you just said, this is an emotionally-driven movie, but did you intend to make certain comments on the Chinese society through it as well? 

Individuals still exist within the context of society – I’m not making a fantasy film that’s completely separated from reality. Every person is at once his own self and a member of a larger community. The character Jinsheng, for example, is someone driven by the need to become rich. Tao is a woman with her own background who gets caught between two different types of guys. When I approach their love story, I also try to offer some thoughts on the value system reflected therein, like the materialistic way in which our mind works these days. Take me as an example: I’m always busy working and don’t spend much time with my mother. Whenever I do get to see her, I compensate by giving her money before promptly leaving again. I regretted doing that and finally brought my mother over to live with me in Beijing, because I’ve come to realize that money is not of the essence, time is. This is the kind of sad realization I gained with age, and I wanted to project that into this film. So Tao forgoes custody rights of her son because she thinks he’d be better off with his father for his wealth. But where does that reasoning leave her? She ends up alone and her son grows up not even able to speak his mother tongue.

What I also wanted to talk about in the film are the basic human conditions that we all go through, from life, sickness, accidents to death. So Tao gives birth, Liand falls ill, Tao loses her father and, notably, everybody ages. These are all life’s lessons; lessons you start to learn once you hit middle age. My first major lesson was the death of my father when I was 36. Before then, such a thing didn’t even cross my mind – just like in the 1999 segment of the film, when everyone is young and alive, notions of pain and misfortune seem simply inconceivable. But the movie wouldn’t be what it is if one only looks at this segment. Instead it moves forward in time. where everything changes. And as time goes by, the decisions we make based on materialistic reasons might lead to even more regrettable outcomes in the future, as foretold by the 2025 segment.

There are voices in the Chinese media which criticize you for overselling the “Chinese element” with this movie; others find the subplot of the teacher-student affair a bit too sensationalistic. How would you respond to such criticism?

I am a Chinese director, so there’s no separating my work from the so-called “Chinese element.” Even when I travel to Australia to film [the 2025 segment], it’s still very much a Chinese picture. As for the latter criticism, I think it speaks right to the point I was trying to make, namely the question of personal liberty. Can you still stay hopeful and find romance when you turn old? There are many restrictions posed upon us in life. Are we allowed to love someone much older or younger? Can we love someone of the same sex? It’s all a matter of liberty.

What are the reasons for the prominent use of music in this movie?

It’s true that I haven’t used so much music in a film since "Still Life". One reason is the overall lower density of dialogue. For this movie, I didn’t want the characters to talk too much. I wanted more open space in which to develop the contour of these characters. For example, the opening dance number shows a body language of the young Tao that’s drastically different from when she’s in her fifties, chopping vegetables and walking her dog. I find this visual contrast more striking than words. And music happens to be a good support for these non-verbal sequences. Also, I think music brings out those feelings you know are there but can’t put into words.

Some observers say the reason for the international popularity of your films is that they deal with the changes in the Chinese society. Do you see it that way?

I think in order for a movie to be appreciated, it ultimately needs to be an aesthetic creation. Who would care for a film depicting a lot of social realities but devoid of a sense of aesthetics? If my movies have appealed to an international audience, I hope it’s because on a substantial level, they bring the contemporary Chinese experience to the big screen, and that at the same time, they have an artistic quality to them.

There’s a considerable amount of English dialogue in the movie. Has that been a challenge?

The way I approached it was I first wrote the dialogue in Chinese, which I then had translated by a British film critic. When we first began shooting this part of the film, I’d listen carefully and make sure every word was pronounced correctly. After a while, I realized you only needed to listen to the rhythm of speech. It’s the same with Chinese dialogue. If an actor messes up a line, the rhythm is definitely off. When they get it right, the rhythm would naturally sound good. From there it all went smoothly and English ceased to be a problem. These past days, I was even approached to direct English-language films, which I’d like to try someday.

Did you have to make any compromise filming this movie?

No. I’ve been making films for 17 years now and have never made any compromises.

Roundtable interview: Jesuthasan Antonythasan & Kalieaswari Srinivasan (Dheepan)

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on Jun. 1 , 2015)

How was your reaction when you first saw the film?

Antonythasan: It was obviously an emotional, happy moment. I was doubly happy because, for the past 20 years, I’ve been writing about the struggles in Sri Lanka. So it’s really great to see that, through this film, those stories have found an international platform and can now reach more people.

When you saw the film, was it just like how you imagined it to be or were there differences?

Antonythasan: I’d read the script of course. And it’s a Jacques Audiard movie, so I pretty much knew what to expect.

Srinivasan: Yes, it’s the same because we had the script, but I also think it has evolved in a very subtle way that surprised us all in the movie. It was a very organic process which happened during the shoot and the period before that. To me personally, I discovered more about my character when I saw her on the big screen.

Did the conflict in your countries help you prepare for your performances? 

Srinivasan: I’m Indian, not Sri Lankan, so I have not experienced war in my life. To me, both the Sri Lankan and the European backgrounds of this film were totally new. There’s nothing I could relate to or have lived through. I knew about the conflict in Sri Lanka because I lived in Chennai, which shares a political history with Sri Lanka. I’ve grown up with the news but have never been a part of it. So I could never say I know the pain, the grief, the conflict. That’s why the way I approached and created the character with Jacques has been different.

Antonythasan: There are a lot of similarities between the character’s life and my life. I was also in the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam), I’m also a political refugee, I also lost a lot of family members in the war. I have been in the same situations as the character. So I’ve been able to use my life experience for the character and the acting, as I was able to imagine what the character’s thinking, feeling or what his intentions were.

Where do you call home now? Are you still in danger because of your past and current activities?

Antonythasan: It’s been 25 years since I left Sri Lanka. I’ve been a political refugee in Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, before coming to France 22 years ago. When I first came to France, there were certain dangers from the side of the Sri Lankan government and the LTTE, because I was writing against both of them. Since the end of the war in 2009, there are no more threats from the LTTE. However, there may still be threats from the Sri Lankan government. That’s why the refugee status I have in France strictly prohibits me from traveling back to Sri Lanka, for my own safety.

Do you see your experiences as a refugee often reflected in movies?

Antonythasan: I don’t really remember seeing movies like this. There’s the Hollywood film "The Terminal" and some French-speaking African films that I’ve watched which kind of reflected my experiences, but it’s quite rare.

How do you feel about being in a male-dominated film?

Srinivasan: You can take it in any way, but are we not in a male-dominated world? And I see my character Yalini — not because it was me who played it — as the life force in the family. The movie, to me, is more about the relationship between the three main characters. She’s kind of steering and bringing life in their fake family, in her own way. So… it came as a surprise to me when you described the film as male-dominated.

What has been the most challenging aspect of the film for you?

Srinivasan: There were a couple of scenes where I needed to not just cry but go much deeper. Only then would it be true to the character of Yalini. To achieve that, you must let go, be naked and bare your soul to let the character take over. These soulfully demanding scenes, were, more than the physical stuff, the hardest part for me.

How did you work on the chemistry between the two of you?

Srinivasan: It just happened. The first time we had an improvisation, I didn’t know him much and vice versa, but we just clicked.

I gathered that your livelihood comes from your writing. Can you make a good living as a Tamil author?

Antonythasan: I’ve been writing for 20 years now. I’ve written about 15 books and novels but I’ve never really earned anything from my writing. I only spent a lot of money on publishing. There aren’t a lot of Tamil readers. Even the best Tamil authors get only 1200 copies published. For my livelihood I do various kinds of odd jobs.

There aren’t many French movies about the Tamil community. Do you hope this film will open a new discussion in the French society about the Tamil community?

Antonythasan: Yes. A lot of people here don’t even know why there’s a Sri Lankan refugee community in France. They just don’t understand why these people are here, especially when Sri Lanka has never been a French colony. So in some small way, this movie does help clarify a few things. Today, there are still about 20,000-30,000 stateless Tamil refugees in France.

As an author yourself, was it hard for you to be the actor and have no say in what the story should be about?

Antonythasan: Well, the story was better than what I could have written, so no complaints there.

What opportunities do you have as an Indian actress to break into western movies?

Srinivasan: I honestly don’t know. I do wish to work more in movies now that I have my first film credit. To me it doesn’t matter which part of the world it is, but I’d really like to continue working as a film actress.

Roundtable interview: Jacques Audiard (Dheepan)

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on Jun. 1 , 2015)

How did this project start for you? 

[whistles, pointing to right] This is my screenwriter (Noé Debré).

It didn’t start with the director?

Sure, but if a director talks, the screenwriter remembers the conversation.

What drew you to the project?

It’s probably the guy who sells roses at cafés. When you send them off, you don’t look at them, but they do have their own stories. That’s what we’re telling here.

Why did you choose the civil war in Sri Lanka as background for the film?

I’d say the film is about war in general. Noé [Debré] was the one who chose the location of Sri Lanka. In France, we hardly ever hear anything about the war over there.

Debré: There’s something very striking for us in Europe, specifically in France, about this subject matter. Ours is a very diverse population. In Paris you meet a lot of Sri Lankans – no, actually you don’t meet them, you just see them. You have no idea what their stories are. They are not represented in cinema, at least not in French cinema, or even in western cinema, especially not in genre movies. That’s what made the prospect interesting to me. Immediately you think, there’s going to be pictures that we’ve never seen before.

This is no doubt a very human story. Do you see it as a political film as well?

The film’s not political because it deals with the projects or immigrants. It’s political in the sense that it’s a French production with unknown, non-professional Tamil actors, co-produced by French national television. To me this fact is politically significant. And also just the fact that it shows how we live today in France, with faces that are not necessarily familiar because they’re from different parts of the world.

This film is also about how a fictional family becomes a real family.

I do think the real subject of the film is the family. And if you look at that family from a distance, you realize the film also becomes a comedy in a way, like a comedy about marriages. From there you arrive at a truth that’s even better than ordinary truths. In a way, the comedy supports the whole narration. The rest of it, like the depiction of the projects, is just background. It’s like making a film about the vigilantes by way of romantic comedy.

What often happens with your films is that, one thinks they’re watching a certain kind of movie, only to finds out later that it’s something completely different. 

I’m not necessarily aware of that, nor is it something I try to do deliberately. But I do realize that there’s a structure in screenwriting and a way of shaping the story that’s recurring in my films because it’s effective. The genre element, for example, is an effective means of storytelling, but there are people who take genre too literally and they end up making bad movies. It’s a matter of balance. Having too much action in an action movie can be counterproductive.

I recently re-watched "Straw Dogs" and I was very disappointed. I didn’t like it anymore. It aged in a bad way. It’s far from being the best Peckinpah film. I thought it was the perfect film but it’s not.

The depiction of the projects in the film is quite shocking. Were you going for a realistic portrayal or an exaggerated version? 

It’s a reflection and, as such, an exaggeration. It’s a stylized portrait of what is, at least from the point of the view of the characters – the idea of the film is that we see the majority of the events through the characters’ eyes. In cinema there’s no such thing as an objective view anyway.

Do you think there’s a moral code within the world of the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam)?

I wouldn’t be able to say. I know that it belongs to a completely different culture that’s very structured and has ancient myths. I know that the LTTE are fighters. They’re an army which has killed a lot people. Yesterday I also learned that Antony (lead actor Jesuthasan Antonythasan) was a leftist-communist, a Guevarist.

Can you talk about the choice of music for the film? 

The song Dheepan sings in the film is the actual hymn of the LTTE fighters. The other Tamil songs were chosen by Antony. As for the rest of the score, it was composed by Nicolas Jaar, an American-Chilean musician. I wanted him to also use classical tones and notes, which is why we had the Vivaldi piece.

Many European directors presented English-language films at this year’s festival. Will you also consider doing one? 

I’m no doubt the first French director to work in Tamil. [laughter] And that would be my answer to your question.

How important is the fact that your main actor has actually lived through the Sri Lankan warfare? 

You should ask him that question. For me it wasn’t an essential factor. I only found out that he used to be a fighter afterwards. In some respects it was good that he brought with him this experience, because he could provide me with details like the correct names of the places etc. Otherwise it wasn’t important.

Is it true that you’re inspired by Montesquieu’s The Persian Letters?

What Montesquieu asked was how to be a person. It was a great question that certainly interested me.

You have worked with both established actors and non-professional actors. Did you notice any difference and do you have a preference?

After “A Prophet” I became more and more inclined to work with non-professional actors because, first of all, I don’t know their faces. Also, allow me to exaggerate a little bit here, when a professional actor gives a bad performance, it’s just plain bad; whereas you can often still get something out of a bad performance by a non-professional actor. Someone who does things that you haven’t seen before can always surprise.

Your films tend to have a happy ending. Did you find it justified or necessary in this case?

In a script, you often have two endings. One is the ending of the characters, one the ending of the story. Often they don’t coincide, which is why you have epilogues or additional scenes in films. In this case, the end of the story is of course the violent fight and the end of the characters is the episode in the UK. To me that episode also functions as a vision of Dheepan, of this tranquil, quiet happiness.

You mentioned at the press conference yesterday that the film rejected many things by its very nature. 

Yes, the film rejected every attempt at aestheticization, for example, both in terms of using special lighting and narrative tricks. I could actually make a catalog of the things I said no to. Simply put, whatever went beyond the point of view of the characters was uncalled-for, because it would be excessive. When you think about it, this is really a film from the point of view of the three main characters. That doesn’t change throughout the film.

When you choose new project, do you look back on what you’ve done already and go for something vastly different?

I’ve only made seven films in over 20 years, which is not a lot. What I know is that every film meant something to me. I’m sure if you ask John Ford what he’d learned between his 68th and 69th films, he’d be puzzled and surprised by the question as well. For me, it’s always about looking for something that makes me question and re-examine what I thought I knew, but I can’t really specify what triggers the inspirations in me.

Roundtable interview: 侯孝賢 (Hou Hsiao-Hsien) (聶隱娘 (The Assassin))

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on May 27, 2015)

1. Why did it take so long to make this movie? What has been the most challenging aspect of the process?

I've wanted to shoot the film for a long time, but for about 8 years I was occupied with organizing various film festivals in Taiwan, namely the Taipei Film Festival and the Golden Horse Film Festival. At first I only intended to spend 2-3 years on the job, but whenever I realized something's not working, I'd feel compelled to restructure the whole festival. So I ended up spending 8 years upgrading both festivals and only got to filming "The Assassin" afterwards.

2. What made "The Assassin" so different from all the martial arts movies that came before it?

Whatever film I make, realism is always of critical importance to me. This realism can be staged, but if the footage doesn't seem authentic enough to me, then I have no use for it - which is why we had to stop and restart filming on "The Assassin" time and again, making adjustments constantly. The same thing happens again in the editing room. If any given shot doesn't look real to me - whether technically or in terms of the performances- I'll just take it out. Only after such a selection process do I even begin to do the edits. So my editing process is not dictated by the script. Even if a shot ends up ambiguous this way, I'm ok with leaving some room for the imagination.

3. Was making a kinetic, high-flying kung fu movie never the plan?

I could never have done that. When you're dependent on too much technical assistance, you necessarily lose control over the film you want to make. The material others present me with is never what I have in mind. Some of the fight choreography originally planned for this movie, for example, was just not what I wanted. What I needed for this movie was something closer to reality, which is the hardest thing to do, because it has to show the force, the impact in a plausible way. And the fights should be meaningful as well. When the action choreographer first described to me how the fight scenes were usually done, I immediately knew that's not what I was going for. It's just not something that interests me. To put it simply: the personality of a character should directly affect how he or she fights. Every character has their special qualities, and that should be reflected in the action sequences.

4. How did you come about picking this character to be your heroine?

The movie is based on a novella from the Tang Dynasty. Back then, they still used classical Chinese to write novels, where each single character meant something, thus enabling them to write really concisely. But even with such a short tale, I only used a part of it for the movie. What interested me above all was this character. Her name Nie Yinniang captured my imagination. The family name Nie is composed symbolically of three ears. The first character of her given name, Yin, means hidden. And Niang means woman. What I pictured in my mind when I saw the name was this female assassin, hidden from sight, eyes closed but always listening. When she detects sonic changes in her surroundings, she'd open her eyes, leaps out of her hiding place, and in one whoosh finishes the job. Little did I know then, that Shu Qi is afraid of heights and could never jump down from treetops, so we had to modify that.

5. The imagery of the movie is exquisite and breathes with such life. Could you talk about how you achieved that technically?

We used a lot of silk for the production. Back in the Tang Dynasty, they used a lot of partitions in forms of drapes and curtains. Even just a normal bed is often separated by screens. And these were basically all silk-based in material. My art director bought huge quantities of silk from Korea and India, picking the material according to what's envisioned in the script. The great thing about silk is that, when shot in a certain light, it looks just beautiful. This is a major factor for the look of the film.

6. Did you shoot this movie on film or digitally?

I shot it on film - using over 500,000 ft of it. But I needed to convert it into digital form afterwards, because all the post-production equipment these days only works digitally. Color grading on digital print turned out to be a completely different thing, which cost me a lot of time to learn and experiment, and I still think the quality of the result isn't as good as it was in the pre-digital age.

7. Does (long-time collaborating DP Mark Lee Ping-Bin) have a preference regarding film vs. digital?

We both prefer film, which is why we shot on film, but the post-production technology in Taiwan is still not up to par.

8. The idea of you doing a wuxia movie raised eyebrows. How do you think this film fits into your body of work?

To me it's still the same as my previous work, because ultimately it needed to pass the test of my eyes. If something looks fake or flawed to me, I won't use it. If the lighting in a scene is off, I won't use it. I don't even care that much about continuity. I have my own way of patching it all together, which is why this film might strike some as oddly discontinuous. Actually I was worried that my foreign investors wouldn't be able to understand "The Assassin", considering the way it was edited together. But it seems that they got it just fine, then it's all good.

68. Cannes: Dheepan

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on May 24, 2015)

Until losing its cool in the third act and ending on a relatively soft note, French veteran Jacques Audiard‘s "Dheepan" is a muscularly directed dramatic thriller about the difficulties of starting over and the inevitability of violence. Clear-eyed, tightly wound, and cinematically and psychologically immersive, it’s a furious ride of a movie that actually has something to say.

We first meet the three protagonists under fatally dire circumstances as a civil war-ravaged Sri Lanka burns with hellish intensity. A former soldier, a young woman, and an orphaned child, joined by chance and the common need to flee the country, assume the identities of a deceased family. Renamed Dheepan (Jesuthasan Antonythasan), the man who has seen too much death in his life becomes a janitor and caretaker at a housing project outside Paris. His pretend wife, Yalini (Kalieaswari Srinivasan), also starts working for a demented old man living in the compound. Their supposed daughter, Illayaal (Claudine Vinasithamby), is sent to French school and made to readjust, most notably by being told not to eat with her hands. In order to escape an atrocious past, they’re ready to fake, forget, and get lost in a new, unfathomable culture. Little do they know that, under the pacified surface of first-world civilization, things are not nearly as peaceful as they look.

The eventful, richly observant script touches on themes of humanitarian asylum, cultural acclimation, and the true makings of a family. Crossing continents and milieus, it sheds light on the misfortunes of those we don’t necessarily notice in our blissful oblivion. And while certain plot points that emerge later on carry with them a whiff of Hollywood-esque artificiality, this story mostly unfolds with a natural dynamic. Its message, whether political or sociological, is delivered through a strictly personal perspective based on the evolution of the characters, sounding earnest instead of preachy.

Even stronger is Audiard’s mise-en-scène, which has such a firm grip on the timing, visual composition, and tonal changes of these proceedings that, despite any thematic unfamiliarity, you fall right into its groove. Whether in moments of urgency or during the occasional breaks of levity, a sense of immediacy and presentness stands out. Also remarkable are the handful of fight-and-flight setpieces towards the picture’s end. While Audiard proved his knack for hard-hitting action in "A Prophet", the level of flesh-on-metal impact, made palpable here in a swiftly executed crash sequence — or the force field of breathless tension created within an apartment block at war — still stuns.

Antonythasan, once a Sri Lankan boy soldier himself, is superb in the lead role. Face etched with experience and posture weighed down by deep sorrow, Dheepan’s every move feels significant, sometimes heartbreakingly so, as it reminds you of someone who’s lived through such unspeakable horrors and forgets how to just be. All the more delightful, then, are his expressions of innocent curiosity and genuine relief, which would come out of nowhere and just light up the screen. Srinivasan, making her acting debut here, brings much tenderness and vulnerability to the equation, although her performance in a couple of emotional scenes could probably use some fine-tuning.

Considering the impeccable fluidity and narrative clarity of what came before, the last half-hour of "Dheepan" does appear distractingly messy. Flashbacks or insertions of purely fantastical frenzies get a little out-of-hand, while outbreaks of rage and frustration err on the excessive side. The actual ending, mere seconds of shockingly happy footage, also comes across as slightly awkward when concluding so much tragedy. One may argue that it’s nothing more than a wishful projection of unrealized dreams, but the sugary aftertaste it leaves only serves to reinforce a vague impression of mainstreamed sentiments that don’t reflect well. 

Informative, compassionate, technically polished, there’s no doubt "Dheepan" is a work of extraordinary craft and great heart. Still, one kind of longs for the day when Audiard would ride his gritty side all the way to the finish line, sending us off with a bang instead of a settlement.

68. Cannes: 聶隱娘 (The Assassin)

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on May 22, 2015)

The Cannes Film Festival represents the pantheon of arthouse cinema, so it does raise eyebrows when a wuxia movie is included in its official selection. After all, this is a genre known for superhuman speed and loud, physical forms of expression, stuff that fantasies are made of but not exactly traits one associates with fine arts. That's until Taiwanese maestro Hou Hsiao-Hsien came along to deliver his version of kung fu. The resulting "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" turned out to be the quietest, most introspective and deliberately-paced film in competition, a feat so rare and radical it casually revolutionized decades of filmmaking tradition.

This being a Hou movie, dialogue is predictably sparse. Details about the historical setting and the relationship between the characters are made doubly impenetrable by the fact that the script is composed in an archaic language used for literature. So much is clear: in 9th century China, when the prosperous Tang dynasty found itself in decline and increasingly held hostage by autonomous garrisons, a young woman named Nie Yinniang is sent home after years spent in seclusion perfecting her swordsmanship. To steel her mind against all worldly attachment, Nie's master orders the assassination of Lord Tian, the governor of a dominant province who also happens to be her cousin. Subsequently, secrets about Nie's past will be revealed and her killer instinct put to the test.

While this might sound like quite a meaty plot, you probably won't feel that watching the film. All main characters are hermetically un-verbal and what little is spoken can sound like a puzzling string of names or some intricately phrased but unspecified intrigue. Instead, the narrative is largely fueled by what's left unsaid, purposeful blanks framed in a sea of scenic shots - brooding, suggestive, never openly expository. You get the sense that Hou is interested as much in the rituals and decorums of a bygone era as in the events that are supposed to take place within such context. Rapt attention is paid, for example, to the preparation of a bath or the playing of an instrument. For minutes on end, we would seem to be looking at nothing but the ancient quotidian silently running its course. The overall impression of passivity and calm becomes so pervasive, in fact, that when the occasional fights do break out and emphatic music takes over from a soundtrack of minimal ambient noises, the tear in the stillness feels downright intrusive.

But yes, there are indeed scenes where people engage in balletically lethal combats, although expectations of elaborate, minutely choreographed setpieces à la Ang Lee's "臥虎藏龍 (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon)" or Wong Kar-Wai's "一代宗師 (The Grandmaster)" would go unmet. Further defying what conventions of the genre dictate, the action sequences here are clipped and to the point, not particularly fanciful in conception nor expansively executed. There's little flying around and the outcome of a duel is mostly decided within seconds. One smartly aimed slash of the dagger or a couple of strikes on the right spot is usually all it takes. If anything, these bursts of violence remind one of Japanese samurai movies which place reticence, calculation and the concentration of will above the outward grace of movements.

If a slight tone of caution can be detected behind these remarks, it's to signify that a movie so utterly, defiantly itself is never intended for the masses. To those who seek to be challenged by uniquely cinematic voices, however, the towering achievement that is "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" should be apparent. Ever the master of slow-burning atmospherics and distilled human truths, Hou shoots and cuts the film with signature repose. Scenes often commence where you don't expect them to and end a beat or two after all is said and done, letting the meaning of the moment linger in the air. Collectively it injects a delicate, soothing rhythm into the picture that feels effortlessly classy. Meanwhile, longtime collaborating DP Mark Lee Ping-Bin dazzles again with an abundance of heart-stoppingly beautiful images. From the b&w intro sizzling with a cool sense of modernity to the dusk-lit interiors drenched in silken glow, the film looks consistently exquisite with a stripped-back aesthetic that contrasts starkly with the pompous CGI favored by mainstream Chinese-language productions in recent years. Restraint is also on display in Hou's use of music. Giong Lim's distinct, evocative score only accompanies certain parts of the proceedings, but every time it counts. The grandeur and poetry of the ending shot, for example, would not be complete without such inspired, reverberating sonic support.    

Shu Qi and Chang Chen embody their roles as the titular assassin in search of inner peace and the warlord troubled by a lifelong debt with great conviction, even if the storyline doesn't have room for acting fireworks. Sheu Fang-yi is well cast as the ruthless nun who might have sent her pupil back home with an agenda of her own. The placidity of her features and the precision of her gestures sell this chillingly unknowable figure who would and could terminate your life without batting an eye.

Ultimately this movie belongs to the mighty creative mind of Mr. Hou Hsiao-Hsien. By bringing an arthouse sensibility to the wild, imaginary world of wuxia, he's pulled off the unthinkable and reinvented the game. Unhurried, mood-driven, pregnant with a transcendent reflection on life and death, "聶隱娘 (The Assassin)" is a singular vision realized with absolute mastery of style and a lightness of touch that's to die for. Of all the competition titles in Cannes this year, it just might be the most vitally unmissable.

68. Cannes: あん (An)

(Originally appeared in The Film Stage on May 16, 2015)

Festival programming is more often than not fraught with ulterior considerations. Which is why so much is being read into symbolic placements such as the opening film. In the case of Cannes, that applies not only to the competition, but also the sidebar sections, led by Un Certain Regard. Since it's generally perceived as a "downgrade" when new works by popular auteurs previously invited to the competition are shown instead in UCR, the added prestige of opening the section is often seen as a compensatory gesture. This happened with Gus Van Sant and Sofia Coppola among others. This year, it also looked like "あん (An)" by Cannes mainstay Naomi Kawase is getting a pat on the back for being inferior to "2つ目の窓 (Still the Water)", which just competed for the Palme d'Or last year. As it turns out, "あん (An)" is in many ways superior to the island-set existential drama and definitely a more enjoyable watch. It might just not be high-brow enough for a loftier slot in the lineup.

The movie opens with a middle-aged man getting up to work. His is a one-man enterprise that sells dorayaki's, a beloved Japanese confection made up of red bean paste wrapped between two bell-shaped pieces of pancakes. Wordlessly, he gets everything ready. And as soon as the dough hits the pan, a sweet aroma fills up the entire screen. You could hardly imagine a more endorphin-inducing working environment, but from the man's posture and expressions, you get the distinct impression he's not enjoying himself at all. The story essentially begins as the reluctant pastry chef Sentaro (played by Masatoshi Nagase) is visited by an unlikely applicant for part-time help, the 76-year-old woman Tokue (Kiki Kirin), whose difficult past will slowly come to light and alter the younger man's outlook on life.

Building on the premise of a gastronomical revamp to encompass personal histories and a reflection on public health policies, the movie proves surprisingly substantial. To be sure, Kawase's trademark penchant for abstract spiritual musings are very much still there. Shots of the sky, cherry blossoms, sunshine filtered through wind-swept branches are interspersed throughout the picture. But unlike "2つ目の窓 (Still the Water)", which erred decidedly on the flimsy side to come across as somewhat pretentious and self-important, there's a solid human core to the relationship portrayed here that gives the blank, meditative pauses a degree of weight and context. Especially after the truth about Tokue's conspicuously deformed hands are revealed, these adoring, at times downright fetishistic looks at nature acquire a whole new level of meaning. Not only do they remind us of the transience of all things innocent, they also speak volumes about a character so stricken by destiny as to appreciate every passing moment of beauty.

Contributing immeasurably to this empathetic tone is Kiki's soulful, splendidly unaffected performance. Playing someone with a sad secret to guard and a militantly cheerful exterior as defense, this portrayal could have gone off the sappy or the farcical end so easily. Instead, she succeeds in first tricking you into seeing this harmlessly wacky old lady who talks to red beans and greets birds, then smacks you awake with a lucidly unsentimental side free of self-delusion or -pity. It's a testament to the precision and dignity of her performance that a couple of monologues delivered towards the end of the movie, blatantly targeted at your tear ducts as they are, hit every note with but the minimal trace of exploitation. Masatoshi has the less showy role but holds up his part of the duet with commendable restraint.

On the whole, "あん (An)" is probably still not for those with a low sugar-tolerance in film. The borderline food-porn level of scrutiny afforded to the steaming sweets combined with the inherent schmalz of the subject matter could conceivably send them into shock. That said, it remains a well-crafted mainstream effort with accessible emotions and that whiff of Kawase-que zen. In terms of artistic aspirations, it aims a little lower, but at any given point, it feels honest and earthily relatable, which is actually more than one can say about many of the high-minded competition films.

68. Cannes: La tête haute (Standing Tall) / Tale of Tales

The 68th edition of the Cannes Film Festival opened on a sober note with the decent, if unspectacular social drama "La tête haute (Standing Tall)". Telling the story of 16-year-old Malony (Rod Paradot), a child of neglect and disenfranchisement who grows up to be quite the model delinquent, it chronicles the struggles a marginalized young man faces in France today, as well as the endeavors and failings of the country's youth correctional system. Chronicle is the operative word here, because more than anything the film feels like a record of the many trips the protagonist makes to the judge's office, his failed attempts at rehabilitation and socialization, his improvements, relapses, breakdowns. Naturalistic to a fault, the direction wins points for its integrity but leaves one desperately hoping for some sparks, provocations, anything unexpected.

To be sure, there's no shortage of violent moments. Numerous verbal and physical confrontations keep the decibel level pretty high throughout. But both the story and the telling of the story feel awfully familiar, bringing hardly anything new to the reformed adolescent genre. This tired impression significantly lowers the impact of the drama, while the repetitive narrative structure or the slightly paternalistic, PSA-esque tone of the film doesn't help either.

Paradot is solid as someone raised to harbor anger and mistrust. The combination of defiance, cunning, masked innocence and pumped-up bravado in his expressions, somewhat reminiscent of Jack O'Connell's breakout performance in "Starred Up", turns him into a dynamite with a short fuse, dangerously charged and forcefully present. As his messed-up, loopy mother, Sara Forestier also delights, offering the film some effective comic relief. Catherine Deneuve's performance as the sympathetic child court judge is comparatively muted, cruising more on her formidable poise than nuanced characterization. Writer/director Emmanuelle Bercot shows heartfelt concern for the subject matter, but her approach to it might prove too rustic and her script can use some restructuring/streamlining.

Italian director Matteo Garrone's English-language horror fantasy "Tale of Tales" is a splashy re-imagining of three Gothic fairytales that, while not exactly meaningful in aggregate, stuns your every sense nonetheless. A depressed queen obsessed with the need to bear child resorts to a shaman, a lustful king gets entangled with two old women who might not look their age, a ruly princess tries to escape from an ogre she's married to by her father - the stories told are relatively simple constructs and bear no apparent contextual relations. Cutting from one to the other and back again, one might legitimately ask if it's all just a pointless exercise in style. But what style this is!

Furiously designed with a nasty contrast of colors and materials, the costumes, props, set pieces whip up storms of spectacles from frame one without ever sinking into juvenile frivolity. Unlike "Alice in Wonderland" (2010) or "Maleficent" (2014), the lush production springs not only from a spiked imagination but also a decidedly adult sentiment. Whether dashing through a stonewall maze or getting chased across the misty forest, you feel the pull of a sinister alternate universe and the uneasiness is just delicious. With the added sonic suggestion of a repressively somber string-based score, and even potentially farcical scenes like the underwater dragon slaying speak a genuine menace. No one from the international cast particularly stands out, although Salma Hayek and Toby Jones are both their reliable selves and own their eccentric, comically heightened roles with aplomb.

It's a pity the three parts of the movie aren't more organically connected to benefit from coherence or momentum. But by smartly drawing on the dark nature buried beneath most bedtime stories and hitting that tone of macabre playfulness with such remarkable precision, Garrone has achieved something that, as strictly two-dimensional and message-free as it is, thoroughly entertains, utterly bewitches.