Hot Docs 2011

Tomorrow I start my annual venture into Toronto’s beloved annual Hot Docs Film Festival. I have 11 films I plan to see, so it’ll be another exhausting, but worthwhile run. I start with a late night screening of James Marsh’s Wisconsin Death Trip, a documentary from 1999 about one small town’s crazy occurrence of disasters in the 19th century.





My list of films to see also includes:

Maids and Bosses by Abner Benaim
The Hollywood Complex by Dan Sturman, Dylan Nelson
The Castle by Massimo D'Anolfi, Martina Parenti
Zelal by Marianne Khoury, Mustapha Hasnaoui
We Were Here by David Weissman
Living Skin by Fawzi Saleh – screening with Guanape Sur by János Richter
At The Edge of Russia by Michal Marczak
The Interrupters by Steve James
The Forgotten Space by Allan Sekula, Noël Burch
Buck by Cindy Meehl


I will be writing capsule reviews of these films as I did last year.

2000s: Deliver Us From Evil

Deliver Us From Evil by Amy Berg, 2006

With no real resolution, the case presented by Amy Berg in 2006's Deliver Us From Evil is one of the most difficult in recent times: the accusations of abuse by Catholic priests of children. Now I cannot act as an expert on this field, so I will try to keep discussion to the film at hand. As a sidenote, I will be viewing and discussing films, even if they are a few years old and do not seem relevant to today, as I am only coming to view them now.

The documentary Deliver Us From Evil primarily focuses on Father Oliver O'Grady who moved from Ireland to California in the 1970s to be the head of a parish in a small town. After accusations of abuse by parishioners, O'Grady was moved by heads of the church to various other towns in close proximity. Abuse in each location is eventually brought forth yet systematically covered up by higher powers. The film contains many instances in the trial of O'Grady and several abuse victims and their families speak of the horrible natures of their ordeals. We learn that the Catholic church itself continuously does its best to deny any knowledge of wrongdoings, particularly with O'Grady's case.



The film itself is impressive in its access to O'Grady himself. He talks freely with the filmmaker about his urges and his ideas on what should and should not have happened. At one point I found myself oddly respecting him because he was able to talk so openly about his feelings and the events that occurred. This respect changed by the end, when a glimmer in O'Grady's eyes showed something very disconnected with his past actions. A smile here and a wink there left me bewildered and disturbed. Berg's choice of interviewees is also to be commended as experts on the Catholic faith and officials of the law give very interesting commentaries on the nature of the church's actions and the possible reasoning behind so many priests' unlawful actions.

It's hard to argue about Deliver Us From Evil on an artistic level. The film is a talking-heads expose on the church and its crimes and its interviews are surprising and heart-wrenching. One may find it difficult to say certain artistic choices failed when the subject matter is really what is most important, yet I found the editing lacked a certain build-up. The story at times seemed a bit all over the place and I found it a bit difficult to understand the chronological order of events. The music choices also felt sometimes odd – as in when the abuse victims visit the Vatican, a Celtic-style soundtrack is used that hearkened too much towards O'Grady's cultural background and almost felt like an unneeded Irish celebration. I am sure this was unintended, but that was the vibe I felt.

Deliver Us From Evil is a film that really should be seen. It angers one to see how so much is being covered up by an institution that is to be revered for its morals. The director should be acknowledged greatly for her unearthing of facts and testimonies to tell a shocking tale of incredible deceit.

3 1/2 out of 5

The Arbor

The Arbor by Clio Barnard, 2010

At a very young age, Andrea Dunbar became a local sensation in her Yorkshire town. Having written a play called The Arbor, Andrea found her work commissioned for a theatre in London. She had a simple reason for its title: this is where the events in the play take place. This is where all of these events really happened.





Clio Barnard’s new film, also titled The Arbor, is a unique venture into filmmaking. What could be called a fiction/narrative-styled documentary, the film uses actors to lip sync to audio interviews Barnard recorded with her subjects – mainly Andrea Dunbar’s relatives and acquaintances. The style is often immediate and unsettling: you know the actors are not saying the words, but their interpretation of the subjects’ responses and gestures, along with their gazes aimed directly at the camera give the film a haunting importance. Although one may argue that the subjects themselves could have easily been filmed and presented in real form, I found the technique a mesmerizing and worthy choice.

Dunbar’s story is a tragic and often difficult one to hear. Her plays tell of struggles with pregnancy, racism and violence (scenes from the play The Arbor are performed throughout the film in the Brafferton Arbor where Dunbar grew up, with residents surrounding the actors as a real audience) and the interviews with Dunbar’s relatives and acquaintances speak of a harsh family life and subsequent hardships experienced after Andrea’s early death. The interviewees’ heavy accents are almost indecipherable at times, but the story is compelling and heartbreaking, and the performances are really top-notch. During a post-screening Q & A, an audience member asked if English subtitles were considered. Barnard’s answer was that reading words at the bottom of the screen would have viewers missing the actors’ subtle facial movements and expressions. And with a film as uniquely styled as The Arbor, one really does not want to miss anything.

4 1/2 out of 5

Top Ten of 2010

After finally seeing The King's Speech this past weekend, I thought it was time to write a Top 10 list of 2010. I need to catch up on the Academy Award nominees for Best Documentary Feature, and it must seem like an obvious omission to have not seen all of them before writing this list. But, alas, here is my list anyway. The order in which the films are listed are not set in stone, as I keep flip-flopping when I try to place certain picks above others (my honorable mentions could be swapped into the top ten as well), but my top two are definitely there to stay.

Festival Films:



I think it may be a little unfair to list these three films in my top ten as they were only, to my knowledge, shown on the festival circuit. Nonetheless, they are fantastic:


La Belle Visite - Jean-Francois Caissy

The House of Suh - Iris K. Shim

The Fabulous Fiff and Fam

Honorable Mentions



Two wonderful examples of realist cinema, set in opposite landscapes and displaying opposite tones and atmospheres. One from a legend in the medium, the other from a newer American filmmaker. Both containing winning performances, especially from the likes of Jim Broadbent, Ruth Sheen, Dale Dickey and John Hawkes.

Another Year - Mike Leigh

Winter’s Bone - Debra Granik

Top Ten:



Although this is mainly a documentary/realist cinema blog, I like what I like. I’ve recently come across the fact that many of the films I gravitate towards and purchase are, well, somewhat ‘downers’. Therefore, I found myself really enjoying creative and fun “popcorn fare” this year. I think my number one choice, in a way, combines my various tastes.

10) Blue Valentine – Derek Cianfrance - A modern American relationship drama about an age group that never seems to be represented as truthfully as it is here. A wonderful performance from Ryan Gosling and fantastic time-shifting editing.

9) The King’s Speech – Tom Hooper - Gloriously shot, a historical comedy/drama that succeeds due to its central friendship. Director Tom Hooper builds tension in a climactic scene that needs no guns or violence to pin you to your seat.

8) Kick-Ass – Matthew Vaughn - A film where the guns and violence do pin you to your seat, but it’s so fun that you want it to go on long after it has ended.

7) Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work – Ricki Stern, Anne Sundberg - This one has grown on me over time. A comedy legend brave enough to show us her real self, inside and out. Touching, funny and ultimately and surprisingly sad – but in a good way.

6) Incendies – Denis Villeneuve - Canada’s nominee at the Academy Awards is a brutal, heavy piece on war, memory and coincidence. A film I think that iss ultimately too heavy for me to view again, but one that is so wonderfully made that it deserves its place among the best of the year.

5) Let Me In – Matt Reeves - Chloe Grace Moretz is one of the breakout stars of 2010, with this film and her turn in Kick-Ass. She and Kodi Smit-McPhee give two of the best performances of the year in this dark remake of the Swedish original. I may be sacrilegious in saying this, but I believe it succeeds in eclipsing its predecessor. More fluid and engaging, and containing an astonishing car accident scene, this film impressed me more than I could have imagined.

4) Exit Through The Gift Shop – Banksy - A hilarious and astounding piece on street art and its transformation into sometimes bullsh*t commodity, Banksy creates a portrait documentary on a man who becomes an unlikely and, while viewing the film, unexpected star.

3) Scott Pilgrim Versus The World – Edgar Wright - One of the most creative and exciting films I have seen in a long time. Succeeds in making Michael Cera charming again, with a wild cast and an even wilder visual presentation. I can’t wait to see it again.

2) Marwencol – Jeff Malmberg - Seeing this at last year's Hot Docs Film Festival, I was astounded by its contents. The director never trivializes his subject, and what a subject he is. Mark Hogancamp is so interesting and his photographs are so beautiful that after watching Marwencol one can’t help but wonder why he or she hadn’t thought of taking similar pictures. Excellent stuff.



1) Please Give – Nicole Holofcener - It was a toss-up between this film and Marwencol for the top spot, but every time I think of the past year in film, I immediately think of Please Give. A touching and hilarious portrait of every day people and how consumerism and guilt affect them, the film contains some of the best performances I have seen all year, Amanda Peet topping them all. A film with no easy answers or resolutions, Please Give is all the better for it. It may not be the most groundbreaking piece seen in 2010, but it affected me in a way I can’t explain. I take that as a good sign.

Realist Cinema: Another Year

Another Year by Mike Leigh, 2010

I don’t find myself in any way qualified to review a Mike Leigh film. The man is a legend for his variety of films mostly focusing on the British working-class and his well-known improvisational techniques used to get the very best out of his performers. Although they may lack the gritty texture of other realist films, an exception being Naked, his films are the epitome of realist cinema and it is always a privilege to watch his work.

Leigh’s latest, Another Year, centres on Tom (Jim Broadbent) and Gerri (Ruth Sheen), a tremendously content older couple living out their peaceful lives in London. The two have a beautiful home, a loving son and grow fresh vegetables in a communal garden outside of town. Tom works as an engineering geologist and Gerri as a councelor at a medical clinic. They frequently have guests over for dinner, during which most of the film’s drama takes place.

The aforementioned guests include the alcoholic Mary (Lesley Manville), a coworker of Gerri’s who is always looking for reassurance that she is either satisfied with being alone or that one day she will find Mr. Right. Then there is Tom’s friend Ken (Peter Wight), an overweight bachelor whose love of food may just be a suppressant for his own sadness. As the guests wine and dine, conversation eventually turns to tears and Tom and Gerri are there to console.





As I watched Another Year, I became more and more frustrated with Tom and Gerri, which I took as a sign of me not liking the film as much as I had hoped. They appear to be the loveliest couple in the world, so I am supposed to like them, right? But I don’t think Leigh meant for the film to be that black and white. This couple isn’t perfect, and like Poppy in Happy-Go-Lucky, a person’s good will creates different reactions in different people – we cannot help everyone. Tom and Gerri continuously harbor these sad cases, even though they don’t look like they are enjoying themselves while doing it. For whatever reason, whether it is pity or genuine concern, they bring these people back into their lives and I found myself annoyed that they did so. But then I realized that maybe this annoyance is granted, and might just be a suitable reaction to Leigh’s work here. The film isn’t simply about good people helping other people in need, but the variety of reasons they do such things and how they come together to interact. Also a rumination on loneliness, the film has various layers to speak of.

The performances in the film are all-around wonderful. Ruth Sheen and Jim Broadbent are believably in love, and stolen glances here and there show true feelings behind their warm smiles. At first Lesley Manville’s Mary appeared to me as an unbelievable eccentric, but I came to respect Leigh and Manville’s choice to throw her quirks in our face. Mary may seem a bit erratic and strange, but the performance is one that becomes well rounded for it. Anyone else might have gone for something subtler, so it was refreshing to watch a true character creation. A cameo from Imelda Staunton at the beginning of the film is also fantastic.

Another Year's simple construction (the film's events take place over the defined four seasons of one year) can take away from the free-flowing elements of the dialogue and story, but it also allows Leigh to do what he does best: develop intricate characters and relationships, and give us the treat of watching said events unfold.

4 out of 5

Realist Cinema: Blue Valentine

Blue Valentine by Derek Cianfrance, 2010

After months of waiting, it finally came. After months of working through the acknowledged, acclaimed, and critics-groups-awarded films of October, November and December, Derek Cianfrance’s Blue Valentine has reached the cinemas of Toronto. After months of only having a charming ukulele dance scene to view on Youtube, I was able to sit down and watch one of my most anticipated films of 2010.

Blue Valentine stars Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling as couple Cindy and Dean, and follows the evolvement of their relationship over time in a fractured narrative style. We are first introduced to their characters at a particular stage where Cindy and Dean are in their early thirties, married and with a child named Frankie. Dean drinks beer in his undershirt and jokes and tickles his daughter, a cigarette hanging on his lips. Cindy appears to play the adult role in the family, preparing their daughter’s breakfast while Dean and Frankie make a mess of it. Petty arguments ensue. There are obvious strains in their marriage.

Cut to years back. Cindy and Dean have not yet met. The world is a sunny place, fuller of hope and possibilities. Dean is hired as a mover, while Cindy is studying medicine. When Dean sees Cindy for the first time during a move, it is love at first sight.



The film is edited to great effect in this past and present style. Arguments in the present about specific subjects become clear when the past is revisited, while the juxtaposition of the two makes the central romance and its decay that much more meaningful. What was once something bright has become dull and painful and the attempts made to renew that love fail in comparison to the ease at which it began. The cinematography also aids in the juxtaposition, with the past shot in a carefree, handheld documentary style, and the present more controlled, with icy blue overtones evident in the picture.

Although the various reasons behind the central relationship's deterioration are never fully realized, Blue Valentine is a work of honesty because there are no simple answers and no one person is at fault. A documentary-style, observational drama, Cianfrance's approach smartly makes the film realistic and relatable. Certain events may be uncomfortable to watch, but are never that out of the ordinary, and although one may feel the film lacks cinematically because of its lack of narrative extremities, I think it is better for it. When the film does move in that direction, such as a particularly explosive scene at Cindy's work, it tries too hard to be more interesting, and instead pulls away from what was already interesting enough - the dialogue, and lack thereof, between the central characters.

Williams' and Gosling's performances are spectacular, their chemistry filling the frame. While I feel the character of Cindy is a bit too cold in what is considered the present, with her constant angry demeanor threatening to comprise her other layers, Michelle Williams is wonderful at subtlety and body language. Watch her neck tense as Gosling's character attempts a rendezvous in the shower. Similarly, Dean's character in the present may at times verge on being a white-trash cliche, but Ryan Gosling creates a likable and complicated man. Dean's mood swings and his charm vary in an instant. He is wonderful to watch.

Derek Cianfrance has created a complicated modern age relationship drama about a generation that is more often than not portrayed in silly, sexualized comedies. It is refreshing because of its seriousness and realism, and Cianfrance should be commended for the risks he takes here. If a cinema verite-styled ukulele scene is one of the most touching scenes I have witnessed this year, he must be doing something right.

4 out of 5

Realist Cinema: Meek's Cutoff

Meek's Cutoff by Kelly Reichardt, 2010

After the masterworks that are Old Joy and Wendy and Lucy, director Kelly Reichardt has become one of my favourite directors working today. Her attention to observation and simplicity give her works a humanistic feel – one driven more by the subtle nuances relationships evoke instead of flashy action scenes.

Reichardt’s newest film, Meek’s Cutoff, screened at the Toronto International Film Festival this month, and after slight debating, I bought a ticket. I knew I had to see the film no matter what, but as a rule I try to see the festival films that may not get a theatrical release in the city. Word on the street is that Meek’s Cutoff will probably not screen in Toronto until 2011, so I decided to break my rule and spend the extra cash to watch the film in Toronto’s new cinema Mecca, the TIFF Lightbox.

Set in the 19th century, Meek’s Cutoff is the story of a group of families traveling the unending plains of the Western United States. Led by the titular Stephen Meek (Bruce Greenwood), the immigrants are walking to a destination where Meek states they will be able to settle and make a better life for themselves. When we first meet our clan, they are wading through a river with their provisions and wagons, three weeks past their promised arrival date. The families struggle to traverse the dusty landscape and to feed themselves and the animals that assist them in their transport.

As each day passes, the more the characters question their leader. Paranoia leads to discussions by the men about Meek possibly being in cahoots with Natives who want these travelers led to their deaths. When a Cayuse man (Rod Rondeaux) is spotted and captured, tables are turned, and the group decides to use the man to lead them to a source of water to quench their thirst and fill their barrels. Meek, untrusting, tries to sway the decision.



Meek’s Cutoff plays out as a series of simple events: the travelers collect wood, sit to eat and pray, set up camp then pack up again. Many of these scenes play out in almost silence, and as a means for simple, documentary-style observation, they are beautiful to look at, but never really add up emotionally. Their journey is one that could be described as hell, but the immigrants’ actions and discussions never really made me feel connected to their plight. Their origins are never discussed and after an hour passes and “nothing happens”, one is left clinging for some sort of drama to appear.

Now the phrase, “nothing happens” can be interpreted in different ways. One may argue, “nothing happens” in both Wendy and Lucy and Old Joy. The characters in those films spend much of their time sitting around and ruminating about their situations. But with her first two features, Reichardt succeeded enormously on the subtlety of her surroundings and the performances. We learned much about Mark and Kurt’s complicated friendship through a small campfire discussion, and really felt for Wendy when she called her family back home and received only a short, unhelpful response. In Meek’s Cutoff, we are distanced from the characters to a point where we never really connect to them. Other than watching these people learning to trust a Native man who is completely alien to them (even this seems a little inconsequential – Michelle Williams’ immigrant wife character, first terrified, appearing all of a sudden willing to approach him) we are offered very little in the way of the human drama we have come to expect from Reichardt’s realist storytelling.

The film has its redeeming qualities in the beautiful cinematography (that many of you are now familiar with as shot in the classic 1.35:1 Academy ratio) and Rod Rondeaux’s solemn, stoic performance. Miscast are Shirley Henderson and Michelle Williams, as two wives in the group. Henderson’s British accent came through during many of her lines and made me wonder if her character was meant to be British. Williams is not particularly bad in her role, but the world-weariness the Oregon landscape called for seemed missing from her performance. She simply didn’t feel like she belonged. Bruce Greenwood’s Meek is simply a caricature, what felt like a cringe-inducing Yosemite Sam impression. The musical score also felt tagged on. It was minimalist and used to minimal effect.

With such beautiful, previous results, I could not help being nervous before viewing Meek’s Cutoff. Reichardt secured herself as a master of observing modern living and relationships that I wondered if a period piece could evoke the same feelings. Upon leaving the theatre, other than feeling thirsty, what came to mind was not necessarily the time and place that mattered, but the content. And in this case, the proverbial water barrel felt half-empty.

2 out of 5