Love in the Time of Cholera

From the moment that Mike Newell (the director of such classics as Four Weddings and a Funeral and Mona Lisa Smile) decided that he would be the one to adapt Columbian author Gael Garcia Marquez’s classic, Love in the Time of Cholera, this film was doomed. Where Marquez’s story of a fifty-year love triangle between Florentino Ariza, Fermina Daza and Juvenal Urbino is epic, romantic and magical, Newell’s film version is tedious, clichéd and cheap. The setting and costume design feel self-consciously exotic (palm trees everywhere!), the central relationship is reduced to a series of superficial “will they/won’t they” moments (though we don’t really care either way) and the characters are all ridiculous caricatures (in particular, watch out for John Leguizamo’s awful turn as Fermina’s whip-cracking father). Newell’s effort can be most succinctly summarised by his choice of Shakira for the soundtrack; he just does not get it.

Perhaps the novel was just not appropriate for adaptation. It’s true that on paper, the story comes alive through Marquez’s rich writing and the intricate detail with which he recounts each of Florentino’s pursuits. Without this lyrical beauty, the story is reduced to an exercise in time biding, in anticipation of that inevitable point of gratification. Still, this is where Newell could have used the tools of cinema to craft something more appropriate (and less tacky). Instead, he’s also chosen to ignore one of the most intriguing aspects of Marquez’s writing; his magical realism. And Lord knows that any sort of break in the trudging narrative of this film would have been a welcome one. With flat characters, unconvincing relationships and a slow-moving plot to boot, this is a cinema experience to avoid at all costs.

1.0

Spanish Film Festival

Few people can boast about having watched over 1000 Spanish films in just 11 years, but this precise achievement is Natalia Ortiz’s unusual claim to fame. As the founding director of Australia’s Spanish Film Festival, she’s spent over a decade jumping through Spanish cinemas on the lookout for that special “something.” Her years are now marked by the familiar build-up to another festival, by seasonal trawls through DVD previews, and annual trips to international film festivals in search of cinematic goodies. And every year she emerges with a wide-reaching selection of the best that Spain has to offer.

“It never gets dull,” she explains, in her rich Spanish accent. “The most interesting thing about putting the programme together is that you always have to consider the wide audience. On the one hand, you have your Australian audience. On the other, you have to think about the Spanish community, and not only the young Spanish community who are really up to date with what is happening in Spain, but also the older part of that community, who feel as if they don’t understand what’s happening in Spanish cinema these days. So I try to bring in some classical films for them. And for me that’s the exciting part; that the audience is really wide and we have kids who are 7 years old through to 70 year-olds, and we’re trying to reach all those people, and present all of them with fresh films every year.”

No where are these conflicting intentions better exemplified than in Ortiz’s choice to include a ‘spotlight’ on Spanish actress Maribel Verdu. An icon for Spaniards, Verdu has produced over 50 films of varying genres, so this showcase offers ex-patriots the chance to get a little nostalgic. Simultaneously, Verdu is on the verge of Hollywood success, so in a way this is Ortiz’s pre-emptive attempt to familiarise Australians with her image. “Normally people do tend to present these spotlights at the end of an actor or actress’s career, but I can see that she is going to be a huge star internationally. She’s shooting now a film with [Francis Ford] Coppola, so I thought it was about time for us to show off to Australia that we’ve got a ‘new’ actress coming up. And now she’s reachable like never before, so it’s the perfect time for us to share this icon that we grew up with, with the rest of the country.”

Such specific focuses are, however, not usually sufficient for drawing in a non-Spanish Australian crowd. So, this year, the festival’s promotional buzz has instead focused around its inclusion of a few high-budget horror films, sending hype to an all-time high. As Ortiz notes, however, Spain has long been infatuated with the genre, especially with thriller and horror. She snorts congenially at the idea of a horror film emerging from France, and thus reflects Spain’s long-standing cinematic identity as one of the only European countries not to shy away from genre.

“We’ve always been interested in thrillers and horrors in Spain, and this year it just coincides that the ones that have been released have been well received internationally. You’ve got films like [REC] and The Orphanage that are being viewed all over the world, so I think that’s what makes it seem different, as if we’re producing more. Maybe some people who have not been following Spanish cinema will assume that this is new for Spain, but in fact we’ve already had previous films from the director of [REC] in this festival. We have been producing these kinds of films from years.”

Despite some remaining misconception, it’s with an obvious pride that Ortiz describes her festival’s role in familiarising Australian cineastes with Spain’s own filmic traditions. She clearly associates cinema with a loose form of cultural education, adding, “At the beginning [11 years ago], the vast majority of the audience did not know much about Spanish cinema, but now you can see, from responses and questions, that they are getting a greater knowledge and understanding of the cinema. It’s a process.”

For Ortiz, though, that more educational function of the festival can only ever be a bonus. It’s obvious that her primary focus is instead on uncovering powerful stories that Australians might not otherwise see. When she’s watching movie after movie, Ortiz isn’t so much looking for a film that reflects contemporary Spain as she is for a film that is honest in its storytelling. “In the end, I just want honesty,” she stresses. “You can see, and the audience can feel it straight away too, if the film director is trying to hard to please someone and is not honest with the story. For me, it doesn’t matter if it’s a big or small production, or from a film school in Madrid or Barcelona, I don’t mind where it comes from, so long as it’s honest and has that minimum quality.”

It’s this hunt that has increasingly lead Ortiz towards Spanish co-productions. “A lot of the most fascinating films in Spanish cinema are emerging from this co-operation with not only Latin America, but also places like Morocco and European countries. It makes sense, I mean, at the moment people are moving all over the world, so to limit your people’s stories to particular places and cities would be very restrictive and very unrealistic. In fact, I think the richness of what is happening at the moment comes from the fact that we’re living all over the world yet we all enjoy the same sort of stories. Making films with other people and telling trans-national stories is the richness of our current reality. For me, not only in terms of finance, but also in terms of storytelling, the future is co-production.”

And it’s also this search that often draws Ortiz towards debut directors, with almost half of 2008’s programme coming directly from first-timers. With a laugh, Ortiz admits that she’s gotten pretty at good at intercepting talent over these past 11 years. “What’s really great is we’re now starting to see the first or second film released from directors whose short films we screened years ago. So I look at that and say ‘Oh I was not so wrong there!’ and it’s very satisfying, of course.”


Director’s Picks:
Spanish festival director Natalia Ortiz chooses her favourites.

1. Seven Billiard Tables :: Screening as part of the spotlight on Maribel Verdu, Seven Billiard Tables is the tale of Angela (Verdu)’s attempts to restart the local billiard hall her recently-deceased father left behind.
2. The Orphanage :: In this top-earning horror film, a young boy befriends some disconcerting playmates when his family moves into an abandoned orphanage. From first-time director Juan Antonio and producer Geillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth).
3. Scandalous :: This comedy/musical charts the disgruntled Luis’s attempts to understand the women in his life (wife, daughter and grand-daughter), after each of them abandons him within a single day.
4. Desperate Women :: Another comedy about hunting lost lovers, Desperate Women sees two ladies madly chasing after their dream man and son, who had previously been thought dead. This film’s appearance in the festival marks its world premier.
5. Under the Stars :: In his first feature film, Félix Viscarret presents a mediocre trumpet player whose life is complicated after his father’s death throws him into a whole new reality. It’s a warm drama, with an edgy quirkiness.

Flight of the Conchords [this is not a film]

Through comedy festivals, TV appearances and radio shows, New Zealand ‘digi-folk’ parodists, Flight of the Conchords, have been wowing listeners with their musical prowess and unique lyrical styling for several years now (examples include: as “I want to tell her how hot she is but she’ll think I’m sexist / She’s so hot she’s making me sexist / Bitch” and so on). Now HBO (the American network with a knack for churning out television gold) has tapped into the band’s cult following by focusing their latest comedy effort around the escapades of this wacky Kiwi duo.

Musicians Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement (who you may recognise from last year’s Eagle Vs Shark) play exaggerated, fictionalised versions of themselves, as they struggle to stay afloat and obtain some level (any level) of musical success in the ruthless city of New York. They’re joined by Rhys Davies as their somewhat out-of-touch manager (who also heads a rather eccentric New Zealand tourism campaign, and constantly vies against his Australian competitors for the tourist dollar), as well as Kristen Schaal as their one and only fan (who seems to spend most of their day loitering outside their apartment awaiting a kiss).

Flight of the Conchords is yet another comedy to jump aboard the ‘deadpan humour’ bandwagon popularised by The Office. As usual you’ll find a fair amount of awkward silences, several eccentric characters that seem distinctly disconnected from the world around them, and that familiar affectionate mockery of nerdom. However, despite being amusing in and of their own right, the dialogue and narrative of the show basically serve only as catalysts for the duo’s songs. These musical treats are woven (often very tenuously) into the fabric of the story, and they help to keep each new episode fresh. For fans of music and fans of comedy, this show is a must-see. Channel Ten have therefore scheduled the series for the inconvenient hour of 10:10 on a Sunday night. When will they learn?

Un Secret

Yet another WWII drama enters cinemas the week; French film, Un Secret, inspired by the ‘true story’ novel by Philippe Grimbert. This is not, however, a war story in the usual, overt sense. Instead, it is a powerful family drama portraying the more indirect, yet still significant, impact that war can have upon relationships. The film takes us into post-war Paris, and introduces us to a young Philippe (Valentin Vigourt) and his Jewish family. Initially, Philippe’s life seems to be all about bright colours and youthful exuberance; however, an eerie soundtrack and the occasional dimly-lit close-up let us know that something is not quite right. Philippe can never match up to the expectations of his father, and is constantly haunted by the spectre of a ‘phantom brother’ who can. Through exchanges with his next-door-neighbour and family friend, Louise (Julie Depardieu), Philippe gradually learns about his parents’ secret past, and the family that his father had and lost during the war, before Phillipe.

From this point onwards, Un Secret opens up to reveal a truly intriguing story, and some superb performances, particularly from Patrick Bruel and Cecile de France as Philippe’s parents. There’s a real depth to the story, and it traverses some pretty unique themes, as one of the few French war films to deal explicitly with the French police’s subservience to the Nazis – so in that alone this film is unique. Unfortunately, however, a lot of this gets lost amongst a clumsy narrative structure. While the film begins in Philippe’s childhood, most of the scenes are flashbacks to the parents’ past (some real, some imagined), with a sizeable portion of the film set in the future, as an adult Philippe looks back upon his childhood discoveries. The three narrative strands are messily interwoven, with sudden shifts in time constantly interrupting emotional engagement. Sadly, it’s the classic example of an amazing story poorly told.

Rating: 7.9

The Counterfeiters

Oscar winning Austrian drama, The Counterfeiters, is a film that asks questions. It asks when morality becomes martyrdom, and when self-preservation becomes self-destruction. Set during the dying days of World War II, the film is about Operation Bernhard; the Nazis’ plan to flood and destroy British and American economies by falsifying enormous amounts of authentic-looking currency. In order to do this all Jewish prisoners skilled as graphic designers, printers, painters or bankers are transferred to Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Amongst them is Berlin’s most talented pre-war counterfeiter, Salomon Sorowitsch, and Adolf Burger, a passionate Communist who was arrested for producing anti-Nazi posters (who actually wrote the book on which this film is based). These emaciated, wounded individuals are drawn into a comparative luxury when they arrive at Sachsenhausen, where they are presented with clean sheets and a ping pong table as motivational ‘incentives.’ Therein lies the moral quandary – how can these men enjoy their relative comfort when prisoners are being tortured within their earshot?

The film is sharply confronting, but in a powerfully original way. Rather than showing us the terror of the camp through onscreen violence, the message of horror is conveyed through torturous ironies – the prisoners, for example, break down with shocked surprise when they are taken into a shower block, only to actually be bathed in hot water. It’s also a film that does not deal in the black and white dualities that usually accompany war dramas, but rather skips through a whole multitude of grey shades. Each new character is another complex individual, battling to figure out what they believe is right. The conflict between Sorowitsch and Burger is a fascinating picture of clashing moralities, presenting two men with such different ideas but equally honourable intentions. Some moments of dialogue do jar, but on the whole this is a gripping drama, and it goes some way to proving that no matter how many wartime films are made, there really are always more stories waiting to be told.

Rating: 9.0