Masala Bollywood Festival

While the world is going wild over India, it seems that India is going wild over the rest of the world, as illustrated in one of the Bollywood Masala Film Festival’s many romantic comedies, Kismat Konnection. This is yet another Bollywood production set almost entirely overseas, in which Toronto becomes an idyllic space of romance and passion. Here, the songs are performed at happening Western nightclubs, amongst flashing neon advertisements, and aboard river cruises. There are a couple of saris, but the majority of dancers seem to have discarded traditional Indian gear in favour of short skirts, baseball caps and denim. The storyline also seems to have taken some of its cues from recent American romances, like Lilo’s Just My Luck. Shahid Kapoor plays Raj, a promising graduate whose attempts at employment are constantly thwarted by poor fate, or kismat. This all changes when he literally runs into the beautiful (and already betrothed!) Priya (Vidya Balan). It seems like hate-at-first-sight for the two of them, but plenty of trite dialogue and emotional music help indicate the inevitable. Despite his better judgement, the struggling Raj quickly realises that Priya may well be some sort of lucky charm, and that it is only with her by his side that he will ever succeed. It’s in no way a particularly extraordinary film, but it is extremely watchable. Despite its typical three hour duration, the action is fast-paced, the dialogue is snappy and the musical numbers are well spaced-out, so the film thankfully does not feel its length. Kismat Konnection may serve as the perfect introduction to the Bollywood genre; light-hearted, a little daggy, very fun.

Race is also set beyond India – this time in the more affluent corners of South Africa, where brothers Ranvir (Saif Ali Khan) and Rajiv (Akshaye Khanna) both enjoy lives of excessive decadence. From the film’s opening shot, its style and pace are made clear. We see a slick blue car crash into a large truck, spin repeatedly through the air (thanks to some rather dubious CGI) and then crash upside down onto hard road below. The occupants remain anonymous, but we’re clearly expected to care about their identities. A fast-flicking, MTV-styled opening then introduces us to the main characters and their interests; extreme sports, horseracing, beautiful women and alcohol. From here on in, things get complicated. The film morphs into a series of implausible, unbelievable twists and turns, interspersed with scenes of Western glamour. There are huge racetrack parties, chandelier-lit balls, fashion parades, flawless suburbs, and luxurious cruises. There are broken hearts, fake relationships, multiple betrayals, murder plots, and excessive amounts of intrigue. Add a desperate secretary and a very intense police officer mid-way through, and the craziness just goes through the roof. With its non-stop intensity, implausible plot and excessively dramatic performances, Race is a real struggle. This film reeks of a very conscious attempt to recreate American action films, but it has failed to include any form of relief or character connection. Without any of that classic Bollywood comic relief, this is simply a contrived action film with a couple of saucy dance numbers.

Anitgone [interview]

Anyone familiar with Schvendes will not be surprised to see the Perth band’s frontwoman Rachel Dease involved with a Greek tragedy. No stranger to the darker side of art, she has carved a reputation for herself as a lady of torch songs and sweetly threatening vocals. In Matthew Lutton’s contemporary adaptation of Sophocles’ Antigone, Dease seems at home, charting the play’s emotions through song – but these compositions are not quite as dark as could have been expected.

“I had to kind of leave all of my prejudice and my style, in a lot ways, behind,” Dease explains. “Even though melodically and harmonically and even lyrically to a certain degree they’re definitely the kind of songs I would write, they’re still different. I had to fill a role in that project.”

Dease’s songs with Schvendes have all been self-contained stories of misery, and their video clips have been sprinkled with gothic visions of smoky forests and deserted dolls. The minor, bluesy strains of these songs have on countless occasions been compared to Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, but Dease warns that the songs that she’s written for Antigone mark a departure from her usual style.

“I think that, because the play is really dark and powerful, I didn’t want to do the obvious and write really dark, gloomy, songs. I’ve really tried to play on my light side as much as I can, because it’s just too obvious and it’s just too much. I’ve noticed recently that there are a lot more major chords in Antigone than there in Schvendes – which I think I’ll probably stick with for a while. But I done it; I think I’ve nailed it.”

Dease also seems to have also extracted the positives from the story itself. As a classic tragedy, Antigone offers plenty of cause for despair. The play details Antigone’s unlawful attempts to respectfully bury dead brother after he has been declared a traitor, and her subsequent punishment. Dease argues, however, that even the play’s antagonist. Creon, can be seen positively.

“I think Antigone can a probably a role model for both males and females, in her strength and resolve, but I also think Creon is an unusual role model in many ways too, maybe more so than Antigone. Creon is someone battling with that timeless conflict between what we think is right for our society and what we truly believe, and that’s what Antigone is all about… Those base emotions make it so relevant to contemporary society and politics. They are the reason why it works to adapt this play, and to bring it into a contemporary context.”

In Lutton’s adaptation, traditional dialogue and story will meet modern set design, costume and music. Dease gushes enthusiastically about a stage covered in “blood, milk and snow,” but falters and stresses that the visual set-up can’t be adequately described without being seen.

“I’m very exciting about seeing it come together now, with the stage set-up,” she says. “I really love the mechanics of theatre and I’ve been loving watching [the set designer] bring it all together. I think if I wasn’t a musician I might want to do that - it’s like putting together a really intricate doll’s house… That’s a new thing for me, I didn’t think that before I got involved in this play.”

As Dease continues describing the backstage processes, she seems to become more and more enthusiastic. She paints a picture of idyllic collaboration and teamwork, with musician, director, set/costume designer and playwright gathering to discuss the characters and ideas, then to workshop the play repeatedly, until general consensus was reached.

“[Our opinions] always seemed to change, all the time!” she laughs. “Month after month we seemed to have different opinions on each character and who our favourite characters are. And I basically took several interpretations of the characters away and tried to get into the heads and the emotions and the thought processes of each of them.”

From there, Dease worked alone with the suggested ideas and overarching emotions to create appropriate songs. For her, such solitary composition was another first: “I felt quite isolated. I mean, in a band, we all bounce ideas off each other and we’re all musicians, and obviously we all have an idea of what she should sound like, whereas in this it became quite a solo process for a very long time. I’ve only just started working with the musicians quite recently.”

Dease expects that these experiences might influence her work with Schvendes: “I’ve definitely explored avenues that I probably wouldn’t have without doing this play, like the isolated writing, and I can’t see myself forgetting that. I think that might seep into the band.”

Despite these times of concentrated individual work though, Dease maintains that the intense period of brainstorming had an immeasurably large impact over her work. “I’ve never been involved in a project like this before,” she explains. “I was just really surprised that so many really different creative minds can work together and somehow produce a work that’s really quite unified. We haven’t had disagreements on how to approach it, it’s always been a very open discussion and everyone seems to have found a way to personally approach it that fits in with everyone else really well.”

Interestingly, the play is dominated by young people – Lutton himself only in his mid-20s. For Dease, this in itself carried a certain appeal: “It’s been a real blessing to work with so many young people and know that there is a really bright future in the arts in Australia,” she concludes. “In many ways I feel like the grown-up there…. I’m not like the parent, but I sort of feel like the weird older sister or something. And Matt’s the very practical younger brother who gets everyone together and keeps everyone in line.”

Out of a play about family tragedy then, a makeshift family emerges. And one of Perth’s soulfully dark musicians is somewhere in the middle of it.

WHAT: Antigone

WHEN & WHERE: Subiaco Arts Theatre, Saturday 21 Feb – Saturday 7 March.

Lemon Tree

Amongst PIAF’s more ‘topical’ film entries this year is The Lemon Tree, from Israeli writer/director Eran Riklis, and his Palestian-Israeli co-writer Suha Arraf (both of whom worked on The Syrian Bride.) Based on a true story, this film centres around Palestinian widow Salma (Hiam Abbass), who lives right on the West Bank’s border Palestinian-Israeli border. Salma’s three children have all grown and moved on, and now she spends her days lovingly tending a lemon tree grove left behind for her by her late father, from which she earns a modest living. Everything seems hunky dory, until the Israeli defence minister moves in opposite her, on the other side of the border. His security team ruthlessly dubs the lemon grove a “security threat” and orders its destruction. Salma, who has little else in her life, decides to fight against the order by launching an appeal, despite strong discouragement from her Palestinian neighbours.

This conflict is obviously intended as a micro version of the larger political situation that surrounds it. In this respect, the film seems a little too safe. The characters are all likeable, and the ‘enemy’ is the completely undeveloped secret service representative. The film’s strength instead lies in its depiction of wordless human connection. In her rebellious attempts to water the grove (despite strict orders against this), Salma shares eye contact with the defence minister’s wife, Mira (Rona Lipaz-Michael), who watches from her balcony or patio. As Salma’s defiance clashes with Mira’s helplessness, the two seem to empower one another, through stares alone. Likewise, Riklis skilfully negotiates Salma’s unique relationship with her much younger lawyer, Ziad (Ali Sulliman). Politics may encroach from all sides here, but ultimately it is Salma’s (and Mira’s, to a certain extent) personal growth that forms the core of this film.

You the Living

This week’s PIAF film is certainly a strange one. In it, a rich man brags about his decadent dinner, only to have his wallet stolen before he can may the bill. A bored man drags his unanimated dog behind him. An overweight older woman complains about being unloved, but then ignores the compliments of her adoring husband. These images are then combined with fifty or more, forming a scattered collection of austere vignettes, all set against the backdrop of an overcast Nordic city. There is no narrative chronology here, but the vignettes all seem to stem from the quote that opens the film: “Be pleased then, you the living one, in your delightfully warmed bed, before Lethe’s ice-cold wave will lick your escaping foot” (Goethe). These are stories about greed, waste and apathy.
This is Sweden’s cinematic answer to Samuel Beckett, but in amongst the gloomy portraits there are beautiful visions. Every shot is a perfect picture, whether it’s the image of an oil painting falling into a living room aquarium, or a happy couple getting married aboard a moving train-house. The visuals will hit you first, and then the themes will strike with power. The commentary of director Roy Andersson snowballs dramatically, growing cumulatively in force with each additional vignette. He plays alternately with clarity and with confusion to push forward a trite message in a new and persuasive matter. The film may not be to everyone’s taste, but, for those that are sucked in, its hypnotic force is unshakable.

Days and Clouds

This week’s PIAF drama, Days and Clouds, might seem a little familiar to those well-acquainted with recent Italian drama. Like last year’s comedy, Her Whole Life Ahead, Days and Clouds similarly opens on a woman deftly defending her degree, and it similarly moves past this to prove that such achievements offer little solace in harsh economic times. The difference here, however, is that this time the woman at the centre is Elsa (Margherita Buoy) – a middle-aged mother who has long been enjoying the luxuries of her husband Michele’s comfortable salary. She’s barely had the time to recover from her post-completion hangover before Michele (Antonio Albanese) reveals that he’s been out of work for two months, and that they now have little over 20,000 euros. Their comfortable life of travel, art, and celebration is no longer a viable option.

As the couple adjust to their severe income cut, Days and Clouds unfolds simultaneously as a social snapshot and a character study. It explores the realistic (and topical) possibilities that could send an affluent couple down this path, and looks critically at Italian corporate culture. At the same time, though, the film is an intimate look at Elsa and Michele’s personal reactions to the change. It’s difficult not to be moved by the look of humiliation of Michele’s face when his daughter spots him working as a courier, or by Elsa’s reluctant departure from her passion of art restoration towards long working hours in mind-numbing occupations. At moments the film does seem to drag, and the performances are perhaps not entirely flawless, but Elsa and Michele’s relationship remains a constant source of intrigue. It is their haphazard alternation of resistance and resignation that keeps Days and Clouds interesting

The Class

It would be quite easy to mistake the recent Palme D’Or winning drama, The Class, for a documentary. Its story of classroom challenges comes straight from a teacher who has experienced this all first hand, the performances of teachers and students alike are pitch-perfect, genuine and rich, and the ‘fly-on-the-wall’ style of filmmaking (recalling something of Mike Leigh or even last year’s French hit The Secret of the Grain) is perfectly appropriate for capturing the tedium of modern teaching. Essentially, the film simply charts one teacher’s futile attempts to reach a class of mixed-race 14 year-olds in inner-city Paris. Beyond that, however, it offers a commentary on the universal challenges involved in education everywhere, particularly in this era of globalisation.

Francois Begaudeau, the teacher who wrote the book on which this film is based, plays Mr Marin. His sincere attempts to educate this class (and to reach the smarter students amongst the group) are continuously thwarted, mainly by student ‘insolence,’ and those many, mind-numbing, endlessly cyclical conversations that consume classroom time and teacher attention. For the most part, the film is simply a document of these struggles, though it reaches a sort of climax after tempers flare in the classroom and one student’s future education is put on the line. At times, the film does drag a little, but this only contributes to its slowly-building impact. In the end, this film’s effect will take you by surprise, when you realise the magnitude of the crisis. For those who have recently been high school students, The Class offers almost humorous in its familiarity. For those in education, it offers a complex picture of the problems that need to be overcome, without offering any simple solution. For all others, this is a rich classroom drama to remedy the simplicity of Dangerous Minds, and especially the more recent, Freedom Writers.

Giselle, feature [theatre]

If the title “Giselle” speaks to you of pointed toes, of full white tutus and of a traditional tale of romance and heartbreak, then you’re on the wrong track. The heartbreak is all still here, but in this modernised, Irish interpretation of the classic ballet, tutus have been swapped for cowboy boots, pointed toes for foot-stomping and romance for sex, violence and testosterone.

Although the original, 1841 ballet was not without its own element of despair, Irish director Michael Keegan-Dolan has turned everything up a notch. The story is now set in Ballyfenny, a fictional Irish town rife with barely-hidden violence. Giselle is a mute outsider, rejected by the largely-male society. Her suitor, Albrecht, is a Bratislavan line-dancer, and the only source of joy to be found in the entire narrative. For Daphne Strothmann, who plays Giselle, the key to embracing this new version was to avoid exploring the older one in any great depth.

“I didn’t know much of the original Giselle really,” she confesses. “Even as a classically trained dancer I did not really know the whole story, just little bits that I had read up or heard of, but I did not research any more than that because I did want to be clouded by what the original things was. I’ve tried to stay away from the original where possible because I’m somebody who prefers to just throw themselves into it. I preferred to just see what would come out of what Michael [Keegan-Dolan] wanted, really.”

Working closely with Keegan-Dolan was no new experience for Strothmann, who previously worked with the director on four other ballets through the same production company, Fabulous Beast. While these productions bear similarity to one another in that they all fuse theatre and dance, Strothmann feels that Giselle is particularly unique.

“The other productions are really closer to pure dance, where there is a story but you work on building physical material first of all, and on exploring the movements from beginning to end. You don’t really explore your emotions as much, or your feelings towards other characters.” On the contrary, Giselle is guided by a strong narrative, and a lot of dialogue. It veers quite far from the boundary of classical ballet.

“There are a lot of challenges in that, of course,” Strothmann stresses. “Like, how to not do the same thing twice is difficult. You want to make sure you don’t repeat words through movement. It’s very challenging and takes a while to understand, but I think the company is starting to do that much better now. It just takes a while to learn a process and to work it – some of us have been together for five years and some for eight or nine, and that certainly helps us work with this challenging material.”

The company, which was founded in 1997, also aims to make controversial Irish issues accessible and relatable. To prepare for the fictional realm of Ballyfenny, the cast of Giselle spent a period of time in a small, secluded Irish town. Strothmann remembers, “At first it was a little strange; I could not really understand what they were saying, especially into the deeper parts of Ireland where I couldn’t understand even if they were speaking English. There are characters to be found that town that are just like those in the piece, sitting around at the bar drinking or dancing. We went to this kind of bar to try to get a feel for these people and how dark they can be, but to also see how in amongst that darkness there’s a wonderful side to them. They’re very humorous and very sarcastic and every second word is ‘fuck’ and if you’re not used to it’s strange, but if you’re drawn in it becomes very humorous.”

“It’s been interesting to take these ‘Irish’ issues overseas and see how other countries react to them,” Strothmann points out. Having toured such diverse locations as Poland, New Zealand and America, Strothmann has been able to compare and contrast the differing reactions. “The Polish loved it; it was so very well received there. It was a translation obviously but it worked very well, but also if just the pictures do something, and even if you don’t understand the words or you don’t want to read the subtitles, I think it works very well. In New Zealand as well, it was quite positively received.

“It did not go down very well in the States – I think maybe because of the swearing and the abuse of this Giselle character. We were actually supposed to do a greater tour but they had second thoughts. I think it was just too confrontational.” If the Americans hated it then there’s a fair chance we’ll love it, but Strothmann admits that in many ways the play really is a difficult one to stomach. It doesn’t hold back in its representation of sex or of violence. For the dancer, an immersion in this world can take its toll.

“It really took over me for a couple of weeks afterwards to get back to myself, because I could not get out of the character, which I suppose is a good thing. But there were some really tough times for while… I became very quiet and did not really want to talk very much. Also, the other characters were all so rude and shouting at the character and wanting to exclude her from the community. So I just became very internal. And plus with the training that we did everyday, doing yogo before rehearsals, I just became very inward-looking and just tried to interpret myself, as Giselle, from within.”

Additionally, until very recently, Strothmann was the only female cast member. “It was probably one of the other reasons why I pulled myself back, because there was a lot of strong male energy and just as the only woman it was not always very easy. Sometimes you just wanted a female to talk to. I admit it was a little easier for me, because my partner who plays my brother was there, but still it’s a very strange energy.”

Strothmann recalls one of the most challenging scenes, the opener, which has her scrubbing the stage floor patiently and diligently, only for a group of townsmen to enter and spitefully throw dirt over her and her work. Keegan-Dolan has shortened this scene since, but originally Strothmann was the stage for up to half an hour, just cleaning that floor as audience members entered to take their seats.

“Sometimes doing that scene I just really want to cry. Seeing that dirt being thrown at the floor was just – oh. I think once you click into the character and you’re in the piece, it’s so hard to see outside it. I was just thinking about this poor thing who had been cleaning stage and now it’s been dirtied and there’s no reason why, and she doesn’t quite understand. She’s an outsider and different and so they don’t want to see her things clean or proper, they just want to keep destroying her physically and therefore emotionally. I think it’s a very important scene that one because it sets my rhythm for how the whole piece should continue. But it also illustrates just how challenging a role Giselle is.”

WHAT: Giselle

WHERE: 28 Feb – 8 March at the Perth Convention Exhibition Centre Pavilion 6

I've Loved You So Long

When we first see Kirsten Scott-Thomas in Phillippe Claudel’s I’ve Loved You So Long, she is not the collected icon of class that we are used to. Instead she looks haggard in plain brown clothing, with drab oily hair and a face so washed-out it is almost translucent. In between cigarette puffs, she awaits the arrival of her far livelier younger sister, Lea (Elsa Zylberstein). Here, Scott-Thomas plays Juliette, who, after 15 years in prison, has been forcibly taken under Lea’s wing. The remainder of the film delicately charts Juliette’s return into the ‘real world.’ Through seemingly innocuous events such as job interviews, visits to the local pool and dinner parties hosted by her sister, we watch as Juliette struggles both with and against the pull of larger society. It is a film about growth and withdrawal, and the internal battle between these two emotions.

Scott-Thomas’s performance here is second to none; it is her ability to so completely convey that sense of pained restraint that renders this film truly remarkable. Her every look (or lack of it) is a source of great fascination, and the slow unravelling of Juliette’s personality has a quite hypnotic effect. Zylberstein works well also, as the well-intentioned if naïve sister, but she falters in some of the more intense scenes and at any rate pales besides Scott-Thomas. Claudel’s script disappoints a little at its conclusion – for a story that gains its power through its pauses and understatements, its tell-all ending feels out of place, and seems to almost cheapen the narrative. Nonetheless, this is film remains a rare experience. A definite stand-out feature from this year’s PIAF film festival, it screens at Sommerville this week and Joondalup in the next.