Cannes Film Festival, 11 - 22 May 2011

There are few things left in life that are as predictable as the Competition line-up of the Cannes Film Festival. Almodovar, von Trier, van Sant, Allen, Ceylan, Cavalier, Malick, Moretti. While these are all great film makers, no doubt, should it not be the aim of a film festival to discover new talent, to give new directors a showcase for their films? Granted, there are a number of relatively new names to be found in thus year's line-up, yet the surprises are few and far between.

What Berlin doesn't have enough of, Cannes is having in spades - glamour and big names. But to bank on glamour and big names only, means turning what once was the world's most prestigious film festival into yet another star-studded extravaganza which may draw gazillions of paparazzi and attract coverage from (all the wrong) media while increasingly missing the point of a film festival in the process. The focus on glitz and glamour is almost blatantly reflected in the poster which - admittedly - is beautiful. Very stylish. Very tasteful. Very Cannes. It shows a still of Faye Dunaway - in her day, one of the most beautiful actresses I can think of and, as all blog-followers will know, also a longtime favourite of mine - in Puzzle of a Downfall Child, a film from 1967 by Dunaway's then-lover Jerry Schatzberg. Schatzberg's film - then also shown in Cannes - is about the downsides of being a model. Dunaway's role in the film anticipated the scandals and the notoriety that would surround Kate Moss some 30 years on. The poster aptly, and almost ironically, symbolises the shift of focus in what the Cannes Film Festival is all about. No longer a mere film festival for the sake of it, to celebrate film as art - today, Cannes is a free-for-all for anybody who has sufficient clout - not to mention dough - to generate headlines and ensure a maximum of coverage. Media coverage translates into cold hard cash in the form of ads, commercials, and most of all: Sponsors. As such, it is indeed a reflection of the world we're living in where it's all about money, marketing and packaging, while substance and content have been relegated to the back burner ...


Opening Film

Woody ALLEN, MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (Out of Competition)


COMPETITION

Pedro ALMODÓVAR, LA PIEL QUE HABITO

Bertrand BONELLO, L'APOLLONIDE - SOUVENIRS DE LA MAISON CLOSE

Alain CAVALIER, PATER

Joseph CEDAR, HEARAT SHULAYIM

Nuri Bilge CEYLAN, BIR ZAMANLAR ANADOLU'DA

Jean-Pierre et Luc DARDENNE, LE GAMIN AU VÉLO

Aki KAURISMÄKI, LE HAVRE

Naomi KAWASE, HANEZU NO TSUKI

Julia LEIGH, SLEEPING BEAUTY -

MAÏWENN, POLISSE

Terrence MALICK, THE TREE OF LIFE

Radu MIHAILEANU, LA SOURCE DES FEMMES

Takashi MIIKE, ICHIMEI

Nanni MORETTI, HABEMUS PAPAM

Lynne RAMSAY, WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN

Markus SCHLEINZER, MICHAEL

Paolo SORRENTINO, THIS MUST BE THE PLACE

Lars VON TRIER, MELANCHOLIA

Nicolas WINDING REFN, DRIVE


UN CERTAIN REGARD

Gus VAN SANT, RESTLESS - Opening Film - 1h31

Bakur BAKURADZE, THE HUNTER

Andreas DRESEN, HALT AUF FREIER STRECKE

Bruno DUMONT, HORS SATAN

Sean DURKIN, MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE

Robert GUÉDIGUIAN, LES NEIGES DU KILIMANDJARO

Oliver HERMANUS, SKOONHEID

HONG Sangsoo, THE DAY HE ARRIVES

Cristián JIMÉNEZ, BONSÁI

Eric KHOO, TATSUMI

KIM Ki-duk, ARIRANG

Nadine LABAKI, ET MAINTENANT ON VA OÚ ?

Catalin MITULESCU, LOVERBOY

NA Hong-jin, THE YELLOW SEA

Gerardo NARANJO, MISS BALA

Juliana ROJAS, Marco DUTRA TRABALHAR CANSA

Pierre SCHOELLER, L'EXERCICE DE L'ETAT

Ivan SEN, TOOMELAH

Joachim TRIER, OSLO, AUGUST 31ST


OUT OF COMPETITION

Xavier DURRINGER, LA CONQUÊTE

Jodie FOSTER, THE BEAVER

Michel HAZANAVICIUS, THE ARTIST

Rob MARSHALL, PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: ON STRANGER TIDES

Sydney Lumet, 1924 - 2011

It just doesn't stop - just over a week after Elizabeth Taylor's passing, another true cinema great has passed away.

While Sydney Lumet's name is not necessarily associated with the cinema of New Hollywood - as is, for instance, Arthur Penn's or Hal Ashby's - Lumet was nevertheless responsible for some of the most remarkable films of that period, many of which - such as Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon and especially Network - have since rightly become American classics.

Not only has Network always been one of my favourite Sydney Lumet films, but it actually is, in my own opinion, one of the best and most significant, films ever - period. For those who don't know it, I'd strongly advise to go and catch the DVD. Hopefully, following Lumet's passing some cinemas across the world will have the common sense to run a retrospective of Lumet's films.

Considering that Network was released in 1976, it is a film that was much ahead of its time. Watching it today, it doesn't in the least come across as dated and, in fact, seems as fresh and relevant as it did then. With Network, Lumet anticipated many other films (for instance Broadcast News, to name but a one) that tackled the topic of television and its corrupt and cynical goings-on behind the scenes and the effect it has on society at large. Lumet and his screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky crafted a screenplay so meaty, so alive, so full of cynicism and - most of all: humour - making Network a film that grabs you from the start, a unique blend between social criticism, drama, thriller, and satire. It won Faye Dunaway a much deserved Academy Award for her role as the twisted, unsound, TV producer Diane Christensen, a signature role and widely believed to be one of the most iconic and most important parts written for an actress in the 1970s. Hence, like the film as a whole, Dunaway's character is a role that was quite unusual for its time as Diane Christensen is a woman in power who does not shirk from anything to stay there. She only thinks in ratings and, of course - cold, hard cash. Yet, Lumet and Chayefsky were way too clever and subtle to portray Christensen as a one-dimensional, evil, bitch but rather as the product of a society which raises its off-spring on a constant diet of TV and all its glittering promises which it fails to keep. Christensen is as power-ridden as she's hell-bent on success. Yet she's also vulnerable and in need of male companionship. However, unforgettable is the scene when while making love with William Holden all she's able to think about are next day's TV ratings.

Sydney Lumet was a true master of the art of film-making. He's also published a book to that effect where he discusses his craft and his approach to making movies. Having read many a book about film and practical film-making, I can safely that I have read few which are so comprehensive and insightful, so easy to follow, and so logical in the way Lumet explains what film-making - to him - is all about. For all those who intend to break into movie-making, I'd also strongly recommend reading Lumet's book - aptly titled Making Movies - and in between watching some of his films!

His best are:

1. Network
2. Serpico
3. Dog Day Afternoon
4. The Verdict
5. The Pawnbroker
6. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead
7. Garbo Talks
8. Running on Empty
9. 12 Angry Men
Also recommended are Murder on the Orient Express, The Wiz, and The Morning After, in which Jane Fonda plays an alcoholic accused of murder.

I'm finding it difficult nowadays to name a director whose whole body of work I admire, but Lumet has always been one of the few. That's kind of strange, because there are few directors who worked in so many genres and who were as versatile as him. Nevertheless, the quality of Lumet's films never suffered and was, in fact, almost persistently top-notch. He excelled no matter which genre he tackled. Even in his last film, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, Lumet was at the top his game, coming up with a thriller the likes of which I hadn't seen in a while. Sadly and unfairly, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead went mostly unnoticed, yet it is a masterpiece in tight, edge-of-your-seat, story-telling which will leave you gaping - if you haven't seen it already!


Faye Dunaway as the TV producer from hell, Diane Christensen, in Network


Al Pacino as the cop, who single-handedly decides to take on NYPD in Serpico


Al Pacino robs a bank to pay for the sex-change of his boyfriend in Dog Day Afternoon


Sydney Lumet directing Charlotte Rampling in The Verdict


Rod Steiger as a Holocaust survivor who can't forget the past in The Pawnbroker


Henry Fonda in 12 Angry Men

German Film Awards 2011

Tonight, the German Film Awards - also known as Lola, after Marlene Dietrich's iconic role in Sternberg's The Blue Angel - were awarded at Berlin's Friedrichstadt-Palast.

These are the results:

Best Film - Gold
VINCENT WILL MEER (Vincent Wants More), produced by Harald Kügler, Viola Jäger – Olga Film – director: Ralf Huettner

Bester Film - Silver
ALMANYA – Welcome to Germany, produced by Andreas Richter, Ursula Woerner, Annie Brunner – Roxy Film – director: Yasemin Samdereli

Best Film - Bronze
WER WENN NICHT WIR (If Not Us, Who), produced by zero one film, Thomas Kufus – director: Andres Veiel

Best Documentary
PINA, produced by Neue Road Movies, Wim Wenders, Gian Piero Ringel - director: Wim Wenders

Best Screenplay
Nesrin Samdereli, Yasemin Samdereli for ALMANYA – Welcome to Germany

Best Director
Tom Tykwer for Drei (Three)

Best Actress
Sophie Rois for DREI (Three)

Best Actor
Florian David Fitz for VINCENT WILL MEER (Vincent Wants More)

Best Supporting Actress
Beatriz Spelzini for DAS LIED IN MIR (The Song Inside of Me)

Best Supporting Actor
Richy Müller for POLL

Best Cinematography
Daniela Knapp for POLL

Best Editing
Mathilde Bonnefoy for DREI (Three)

Best Production Design
Silke Buhr for POLL

Best Costumes
Gioia Raspé for POLL

Best Make-Up
Kitty Kratschke, Heike Merker for GOETHE!

Best Score
Matthias Klein for DAS LIED IN MIR (The Song Inside of me)

Red carpet arrivals tonight, outside the Friedrichstadt-Palast:

Alexander Fehling:


Aylin Tezel:


Anastasia Zampounidis:


Jasmin Tabatabai and Andreas Pietschmann:


Bruno Ganz and Iris Berben:


Dani Levy and Sabine Lidl:


Lisa Martinek and Guiglio Ricciarelli


Kostja Ullman and Janine Reinhardt:


Minu Barati-Fischer:


Michael Degen:


Nadja Uhl:


Sibel Kekilli:


Director Tom Tykwer and Marie Steinhoff:


Volker Schloendorff:


Wim Wender and his wife, Donata:


Wladimir Klitschko:


Wolfgang Kohlhaase:

Winter's Bone, Debra Granik, USA 2010

One of the few - positive - upshots of the recent credit crunch and subsequent depression is that it gave birth to a string of films that deal with the flipside of the American dream, among them are Welcome to the Rileys, The Fighter, or indeed Winter's Bone.

Winter's Bone revolves around 17-year old Ree, who takes care of her two siblings and a depression-stricken mother while struggling to hang on to their house which Ree's father put up for his bail. Much of the story of Winter's Bone reminded me of a modern-day version of The Third Man since similar to Carol Reed's classic, in Winter's Bone, too, the film's central character - or rather, the elephant in the room: Ree's father - never shows and you're never quite sure whether he actually does exist or not, and if so, in what physical shape and condition ... This is, of course, the only difference between the two films, and not meaning to spoil things for those who have yet to see the Granik's film I won't give away any details regarding the whereabouts of Ree's father. Moreover, even though much depends on Ree having to find Jessup, her father, it is not the main point of the film for Winter's Bone is decidedly not a thriller, notwithstanding the fact that Ree's hunt for Jessup does keep the viewer on tenterhooks, but more so as an undercurrent rather than as the film's leitmotif. Winter's Bone is all about the struggle for sheer survival by Ree in the face of a relentlessly adverse and hostile world, which has all but forgotten about its disenfranchised inhabitants who have little left but the wretched, run-down, houses they live in and the handful of drugs to keep them going, making them forget about the misery that surrounds them.

Given its theme, Winter's Bone is by definition a rather bleak film. It is to Granik's credit that she managed to shirk any sentimentality which a film that revolves around a teenage girl who has no one but herself to rely on, would have lent itself to all too easily. That Winter's Bone does nevertheless end on a somewhat upbeat note may strike some viewers as unrealistic or too laboured. However, it struck me as a much needed and well-deserved dose of serendipity on Ree's part, restoring at least some of the faith in life and mankind you're likely to lose over the course of the film.

Potiche (Trophy Wife), Francois Ozon, France 2010

François Ozon can always be relied on to deliver first-rate entertainment. This also applies to his new film, Potiche.

In Potiche, Catherine Deneuve plays Suzanne Pujol, the bored trophy wife to Fabrice Lucchini's Robert Pujol, a chauvinist, small-minded, factory manager. A heart attack forces Robert Pujol to temporarily retire, prompting his wife to take over. Lo and behold, at the factory things are suddenly going smoothly again as Suzanne breathes new life into the factory which was founded by her father in the first place. Perhaps, it is no accident that the factory produces umbrellas, a reminiscence I'd suggest, to The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, one of Deneuve's greatest triumphs - a triumph, it should be added, she repeats in her role as Suzanne Pujol.

You could be forgiven for thinking that this sounds all like a grave - and dated? - lesson in feminism. But don't worry. François Ozon set his film in the 1970s with all the usual ingredients, including bell bottoms and some hefty disco beats by Baccara. Moreover, Potiche is above all a comedy - a hilarious one at times - although behind its comic façade there are nevertheless a lesson or two Ozon wants us to pick up on.

For how many women can you name that are running a factory, bearing in mind that this is 2011 and not 1978 ... ...?

Elizabeth Taylor, 1932 - 2011

Elizabeth Taylor in Suddenly, Last Summer (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, USA 1959)

Some 20 years ago I came across John Parker's book, Five for Hollywood, in which Parker compares the lives and careers of five Hollywood stars who dominated Hollywood during the 1950s: Natalie Wood, Rock Hudson, James Dean, Montgomery Clift - and Elizabeth Taylor. The chapter on Taylor concludes Parker's book. It is entitled 'The Last Survivor'.

Today, the last survivor died in Los Angeles at the age of 79.

Considering what Elizabeth Taylor had gone through over the course of her life - e.g. over 30 major surgeries, including a brain tumour removal 14 years ago - I was confident that she would live up to 90. At least. She seemed invincible indeed. Like the proverbial rock in the surf.

The use of any kind of pathos at this stage would be cheap, nor would it do her justice. Hence, I deliberately refrain from saying that Taylor's death equals the death of an era for that era, Hollywood's Golden Age, already died a long time ago. But there surely can't be any doubt that she was the last true, bonafide, Hollywood star, with everything that term entails and connotes. And yet, I admired Taylor not so much for her films, although she does have a small handful of masterpieces to her credit, neither more nor less than do most other so-called Hollywood stars, but for Taylor's persona, her personality. For someone of her stature, she had the admirable - and possibly rare - trait of not taking herself too seriously. She had the ability to laugh at herself. Her wit was unmatched. My favourite Taylorism goes: "If people say they don't have any vices you can be sure they have some pretty annoying virtues", or something to that effect.

And it fits Taylor's unique personality to have stood up for the likes of Rock Hudson, when he was stricken with AIDS, when very few others were prepared to do so. It came naturally to Taylor. After all, she had done the same some thirty years earlier for her friend Montgomery Clift when she fought on his behalf when producers were already reluctant to cast him on account of his alcoholism.


The fabulous Elizabeth Taylor, such as she was in the early 1970s

It didn't matter that she hadn't made any films in at least 15 years, anything Taylor did or said was still considered newsworthy. In fact, if there's one reproach I have on her, it is that she wasted her considerable talent and didn't make more (good) films. Taylor's active career in films more or less ended when she was only in her forties. I wondered sometimes, if it was for a lack of parts or if she simply didn't want to. She certainly didn't need to, for she was one of the wealthiest actresses ever to come out of Hollywood. And not just because of the diamonds Richard Burton so lavishly bestowed on her. She was the first actress - or actor, for that matter - to command the princely salary of $1,000,000. It was unheard of at the time, and the story goes that Taylor asked for it just by sheer audacity, simply to annoy the producers and, in fact, never expected to actually get it. But she did!

For all of the above I confess that Taylor's death touched me more than a death by an actor or actress whom I never even met usually does.

Elizabeth Taylor was more than just a movie star. Much more. She was the icon of an era, who, in her prime, lived life to the full. Her name is synonymous with glamour, beauty and excess. But reducing her to that would be unfair. For Elizabeth Taylor also stands for unbridled passion. Besides, Taylor wouldn't be the same without her wit, her sharp mind, which many weren't aware of since the glitter of her diamonds often threatened to outshine her intelligence.

Elizabeth Taylor truly was in a league of her own.

Her departure leaves an irreplaceable gap in more sense than just one. She'll be greatly missed.


Elizabeth Taylor after her brain tumour removal in 1997, in a photo taken by the late Herb Ritts

Wer wenn nicht wir (If Not Us, Who), Andres Veiel, Germany 2011

Expectations had been high for Veiel's much anticipated Red Army Faction drama. Veiel's aim was, to tell the "previously untold story of what went on before Gudrun Ensslin took to violence" as a last resort against the state in which she seemed to detect more than just a few remnants of fascism. Yet, from the first I was struck by Veiel's claim of Ensslin's story having never been told. In fact, in what surely was one of the few high points of post-war German cinema, in Die bleierne Zeit (English title: Marianne and Juliane), Margarethe von Trotta does exactly that. Granted, she changed the names of her two female protagonists to Marianne and Juliane - hence the English title - and she may have taken some liberties here and there regarding Ensslin's biography, but in her film she told the exact same story, at least, as far as the basics are concerned. More than that, unlike Veiel's film, von Trotta's transcends the borders of a mere biopic, allowing for some glimpses, not only into Ensslin's psyche, but into the German psyche as a whole. The scene even, in which in Veiel's film Lauzemis is seen attending a screening of a French film, struck me as a direct reference to Marianne and Juliane. Only that in the latter von Trotta has the two sisters watching Alain Resnais' Nuit et Brouillards, which was one of the first documentaries about the Holocaust. Similarly to Veiel, von Trotta already linked the founding of the RAF to the crimes of the Nazis. Even if the crime consisted merely in turning a blind eye, as was the case with Ensslin's father rather than active collaboration.

While this may seem unduly harsh on Veiel, his film does have its merits, if not surprises. But they have more to do with Ensslin's boyfriend, Bernward Vesper, rather than Ensslin herself. I'd even go so far as to call Veiel's film more a film about Vesper than about Ensslin. But that may be because ever since her death she's dominated the German media by varying degrees whilst Vesper virtually disappeared into oblivion, which is why Veiel's film amounts to a rediscovery of Vesper and his work, notably Die Reise (The Journey). He certainly was a fascinating character. Fascinating, because he defies easy labelling. Unlike Ensslin's, Vesper's father, Will, was an admirer of Hitler, a heritage which Bernward Vesper struggled with for the remainder of his short life. While watching Veiel's film, I couldn't quite shed the impression that Veiel himself seems to have become increasingly engrossed by this torn and tormented figure, which may explain why - to me at least - the focus in If Not Us, Who seems to shift from Ensslin to Vesper as the story unfolds. Certainly, his is the more intriguing story, but not only because Vesper has almost completely disappeared from the radar screen of German history. More interesting, however, is the fact that due to his family background, Vesper's biography isn't as straight forward as Ensslin's. Although needless to say, he condemned the crimes of Hitler and Nazi Germany just like Ensslin, passing judgement on his father and his generation didn't come as easy to Vesper as it did to Ensslin. Nor did he he believe in violence as a means to fight society.

It is this, this grey zone in which Vesper moved which makes him a remarkable, fascinating, figure and uncovering it is the true achievement of Veiel's film.