At last the Wellington winter returns to the traditions of ages past, with the reinstatement of the NZ International Film Festival to its rightful, full length, with a full slate of titles on offer and the complete range of cinemas in which to view them. This year I selected 16 films - one each in the Penthouse and the Roxy, and 14 in the mighty Embassy Grand. (The Penthouse screening failed to live up to high expectations - the manager played the wrong film entirely, and the audience had to wait 25 minutes for the proper film to load, which meant a near-nine-o'clock start for a two hour film). Some great dramas and comedies were on display, plus an even better than usual collection of documentary excellence.
Here's my overview of the films I saw, in rough order of preference, beginning with those I enjoyed most.
(dir. Wim Wenders, Japan, 2023)
German director Wim Wenders melds his long-established affinity for Japanese life with expert storytelling and unimpeachable casting to illustrate the simple yet touchingly honest tale of Mr Hirayama, a distinguished man in his sixties who spends his days cleaning Tokyo's myriad public toilets. While the film is a highly effective depiction of the dignity afforded by honest labour taken seriously by its practitioners, through the poetic resonances of Hirayama's orderly existence and his daily rituals the viewers are also entwined in the quiet, simple dramas of ordinary life - the delights of long-loved songs, the pleasure of admiring a noble tree each lunchtime, the friendly welcome of regular cafe owners and angelic-voiced bar hosts, the discovery of new-found literary morsels in second-hand bookshops, chance encounters with kind strangers, and unexpected visits from relatives long unseen. Throughout, lead actor
) is riveting and utterly endearing as the noble Hirayama, a quiet man with a passion for doing his job well, and a Japanese everyman's gentle sense of humour. Yakusho's final scene of the film is performed so tremendously skilfully and is so genuinely moving that it's hard to watch without immediately thinking of awards nominations.
is a film that deserves a wide audience amongst those who appreciate honest story-telling, wonderful writing (by Wenders collaborator Takuma Takasaki
Monster (dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda, Japan, 2023)
Another expertly-realised observation of modern Japanese society by one of its two greatest directors. Hirokazu Kore-eda displays his traditional virtuosity with child actors and augments it with an ambitious yet wholly successful plot structure involving interwoven storylines to illustrate an increasingly nuanced and ultimately deeply satisfying and humanistic examination of family life, the power of gossip and innuendo, the Japanese passion for ritualised apology, and how one boy's schoolyard friendship has ramifications for all around him. The director's hallmark typhoon motif returns, as seen most pivotally in 2016's
After The Storm, as the catalyst for a deeply engaging and rewarding conclusion. As always, the cast is perfectly selected and performs admirably, and there is a skilful blend of wry humour amongst the drama. Just one glimpse of the delightful grimace of a gossip-mongering mum, relishing passing on her tale of scandalous misbehaviour, sold this charming film to me in an instant.
Anatomy of a Fall (dir. Justine Triet, France, 2023)
An expertly-realised, highly nuanced examination of a contested death, in which the French inquisitorial court system tries to establish the truth in the case of a husband who either fell in a suicide gambit, or was bludgeoned and pushed by his wife. The cross-examination of the wife Sandra, played with customary verve by the burgeoning star, Sandra Hüller (
Toni Erdmann,
In The Aisles), and the testimony of their 11-year-old, partially sighted son, played by the excellent Milo Machado-Graner, are fascinating multi-faceted, and the audience is never railroaded into obvious conclusions regarding Sandra's guilt or otherwise. With a bevy of subtly dramatic twists and a frigidly beautiful alpine setting in the French Alps near Grenoble, Justine Triet's film is a worthy
Palme d'Or winner, and one that certainly merits awards for Hüller's central performance as the complex, challenging character that shares her first name. And there's already been a special
Palm Dog Award award for supporting canine actor Messi, a handsome fellow who steals scenes from his human colleagues with consummate ease.
Past Lives (dir. Celine Song, USA, 2023)
A remarkable effort for a first feature, benefiting from soulful performances from its leads and successfully channeling the wistful but never self-pitying gentle mournfulness of Wong Kar-wai's best works. The film contains welcome dashes of gentle humour throughout, and a seamless evocation of the passage of a quarter-century in the blink of an eye. Celine Song's next works will be watched with great interest after this highly proficient debut.
Anselm (dir. Wim Wenders, Germany, 2023)
Wim Wenders returns with his first feature documentary in five years, and also returns to the 3D approach for the first time since
The Beautiful Days of Aranjuez in 2016. His methodical survey of the career of post-war German conceptual artist
Anselm Kiefer makes wonderful use of the medium, and Kiefer's art lends itself to this documentary form, as it is often essayed at a grand scale and his atelier have for decades been situated in disused factories and warehouses on a literal industrial scale. There is next to no biographical detail on offer, with a laser-like focus on his artistic process and the way Kiefer addresses German society and culture in the aftermath of the devastating war that ended just as he was born. Several skilful reenactments bridge the decades effectively, using Kiefer's own son and a Wenders grandchild (presumably) to depict the artist as a young man and child, respectively. Anselm is a sensitively-handled celebration of an artist's lengthy career - imagine the verve with which Wenders might have tackled a Friedrich Hundertwasser biopic - and his single-minded artistic vision. It also presumably evokes considerable envy amongst other artists viewing the documentary - all that space to work in; all those industrial quantities of art supplies!
Merkel (dir. Eva Weber, UK, 2022)
Eva Weber's inspiring documentary on German Chancellor Angela Merkel provides a valuable career summary and useful insights to the talents that vaulted her into the top job in Berlin and kept her there for 16 years at the forefront of national and international leadership, while allies and rivals alike all fell by the wayside. The melding of a clinical, rational-minded approach to politics inspired by her doctorate in physics, her embracing of the fundamental values of the liberal democracy of the unified Federal Republic of Germany after the strictures of her upbringing in communist East Germany, and her personal characteristics of sound judgement, integrity, humility and working hard to understand what makes people tick, all contributed to her lasting success. That, and being the single smartest person in any room. And as talking head Sir Tony Blair points out, her commendable conviction that ideology has no place in political decision-making. Perhaps the documentary makes a little too much of her polar opposite American leader Trump, given his fleeting tenure in the White House, and perhaps the documentary could have delved a little more into Merkel's personal political philosophy - why did she join the Christian Democratic Union, for example? But these omissions cannot detract from this finely constructed survey of a singular career of a remarkable stateswoman.
No Bears (dir. Jafar Panahi, Iran, 2022)
Another Panahi depiction of Iranian village life, dovetailed with parallel tales of a film about Iranian refugees seeking passage to Western Europe, and their director Panahi, orchestrating their filming from just over the border in Iran. The village setting evolves into an increasingly dramatic clash of cultural values as Panahi's presence as a mysterious big-city filmmaker with a camera acts as the spark for long-held enmities. The Turkish film set and Panahi's own considerable difficulties with the Iranian authorities are depicted with great poignancy, particularly in a scene where Panahi is taken to a windy hilltop in the depth of night to gaze down on the Turkish town where his actors and crew are; on asking where the border is and being told he is standing right upon it, he recoils instinctively. The most vital filmmaker in Iran, Panahi's naturalistic filmmaking captures the rituals of Islamic courtesy, gentle yet playful humour, and the hopes and dreams of village life, and infuses it with valuable social commentary.
Mars Express (dir. Jeremie Perin, France, 2023)
An excellent depiction of a cyber-crime thriller set in a Martian colony in the distant future, with the standout being the superbly realised art design for 23rd-century Martian society and the wide variety of robots that underpin human society. With plenty of film-noir twists, dramatic chases and fisticuffs, this French production successfully merges the spirit of
Blade Runner with the
art style of Moebius to create a satisfying sci-fi experience, with particular credit to the likeable lead duo of a female detective who's currently just about on the wagon and her robot sidekick, the cyber-backup of her deceased colleague who died and was reincarnated in machine form five years previously, and who often needs to reboot and install driver updates at crucial moments.
Fallen Leaves (dir. Aki Kaurismäki, Finland, 2023)
Another deadpan Finnish working-class romance from the acknowledged expert, Fallen Leaves offers the traditional Aki Kaurismäki pleasures - stone-faced inarticulate bruisers, wistful disappointed women, seedy bars full of morose patrons drinking to forget their failed relationships, and heartless employers ready to cast our heroes into poverty at the blink of an eye. The obstacles to romance between the doughty Ansa and alcoholic Holappa are intentionally contrived, with the main pleasures being derived from the dry wit expressed throughout, with Kaurismäki giving many supporting characters wonderfully bleak lines that cumulatively build a sense of inspired silliness, heavily battened-down by the abiding rationale of the filmmaker's worldview, in which modernism and optimism are false prophets, and the simple pleasures of awkward romance always win through. Special mention must also go to scene-stealer Alma, the stray dog who pops up near the end and moves in with the heroine, and who should be put in as many movies as possible, Finnish or not.
I Like Movies (dir. Chandler Levack, Canada, 2022)
A rousing Canadian crowd-pleaser featuring a winningly unflattering central performance by Isaiah Lehtinen as a precocious 17-year-old film snob asshat with a distinct social skills deficit. The 2003 setting means a nostalgic mall-video-store setting for young Lawrence's stumbling journey from self-centred obnoxiousness - belittling his run-ragged mum and his only true friend - to a semblance of self-awareness and the germ of a well-rounded individual. Replete with wince-inducing examples of shameless teenage entitlement and plenty of genuine laughs at the sheer audacity of Lawrence's lack of gratitude or basic manners,
I Like Movies is a counterpoint to the sociopathy identified in the opening scene of
The Social Network; despite all his terrible traits, one can't help but invest in the protagonist's (sorely needed, long overdue) emotional development. Actor / choreographer Romina D'Ugo also contributes a fine supporting performance as video store manager and semi-willing mentor Alana.
Asteroid City (dir. Wes Anderson, USA, 2023)
Wes Anderson appears to have settled into a Coen-brothers
Hail, Caesar! phase, in which he produces expertly-realised and beautifully-filmed cinematic confections, replete with bountiful casts of well-liked names, knowing in-jokes and wry fourth-wall piercings, all of which amount to enjoyable cinematic experiences but leave his devotees wishing for some slight tweaks to kick-start proceedings into the realm of classic comedy. But Anderson isn't in the business of crowd-pleasing, and perhaps that's for the best.
Asteroid City's blend of Anderson archetypes - damaged protagonists, awkwardly earnest teenagers, and eccentric deadpan supporting characters - is tried and true, and its main stand-out feature is the sumptuous desert hues and pastel costume palette. Perhaps a slightly stronger comedy than his previous work,
The French Dispatch, but still enough to hold out hope of another follow-up as strong as
The Royal Tenenbaums or
The Grand Budapest Hotel.
Squaring the Circle: The Story of Hipgnosis (dir. Anton Corbijn, UK, 2022)
In Aubrey "Po" Powell director / photographer Anton Corbijn has a winning subject - one-half of the hugely creative 1970s album cover design collective
Hipgnosis, Powell is wry, unsentimental and frank about the excesses and successes of their 15-year run of classic album covers, and the genius and insufferable nature of his partner, Storm Thorgerson, who died in 2013. (I think it was Roger Waters who said of Thorgerson, "Storm was a man who wouldn't take 'yes' for an answer"). Their initial friendship with Pink Floyd, sealed in Cambridge before the band took off, was their entrance into the wildly creative album cover design scene that the duo popularised and became the standard-bearers of at the peak of the album era. Their connections were unrivalled, and plenty of their clients have turned out to be interviewed - three Floyds (separately, obviously), Paul McCartney, Peter Gabriel, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page. This connection doubtless also assisted Corbijn's licencing task, so his documentary features a ton of music by the bands in question. While it lasted, the marriage of almost unlimited creative control, sky-high budgets and a free-thinking approach to artistic expression resulted in some of the greatest album covers ever made.
The Longest Goodbye (dir. Ido Mizrahi, Israel/Canada, 2023)
An insightful survey of the efforts of Nasa and other European space programmes to understand and plan for the extreme isolation of long-duration space travel, which is particularly relevant to the upcoming lunar settlement and Mars exploration missions in the coming decades. While astronauts are selected for their exemplary skills and characters, exposing humans to prolonged isolation in a small team with little private space or time, and being separated from their families and friends and unable to communicate with them in real time, can have severe consequences for individual and team wellbeing. The documentary interviews psychologists and human factors experts working on the problem, and is particularly effective when it engages with real spacers and their kin. Intensely composed Artemis astronaut
Kayla Barron (total space time: 176 days) and her husband are excited about the possibilities of Kayla's lunar journey but acknowledge that as she is in her mid-30s, she will likely want to have children. And experienced Shuttle and ISS crew
Dr Catherine "Cady" Coleman (total space time: 180 days), who has the safety of no longer being on the flight-line, can be frank about the pain of being separated from her husband and then-seven-year-old son, who are also interviewed. The film shows that space agencies haven't resolved the psychological challenges of a three-year Martian mission, and to an outsider it seems foolhardy to attempt it in something as small as an Orion capsule. The documentary, understandably perhaps, also refrains from mentioning one obvious psychological component for space crew - what to do about sex?
My Name is Alfred Hitchcock (dir. Mark Cousins, UK, 2022)
While the decision to use a vocal impression of Hitch by Alistair McGowan is at times a distracting affectation, it mostly succeeds in keeping the audience of this solid documentary engaged and just a tad off-kilter as director Mark Cousins offers five mini-essays on the themes he identifies in the great director's work. Aficionados will find well-trodden territory in the many excerpts shown, but Cousins offers valuable insights and the documentary forms an ideal companion to a newly-discovered love of Hitch's work, or a refresher for someone returning to the films after several years. Only the curious omission of a Freudian lens over Hitch's increasingly unsettling depictions of sexual longing and perverse desire seems noteworthy.
Afire (dir. Christian Petzold, Germany, 2022)
A portrait of a self-lacerating writer with a penchant for alienating all around him might be a hard watch in some people's books, but Christian Petzold (
Barbara,
Jerichow,
Phoenix) has a deft touch for the asymmetries of group dynamics shot through with rivalry and lust both requited and otherwise, and the tricks a director can play with a easily-provoked character. While the frequently diverting
Roter Himmel / Red Sky / Afire meanders at times, and protagonist Leon is often too much of a self-pitying man-baby to spend time with, it's strongest when playing on the tensions that arise when the writer encounters an unexpectedly full Baltic coast holiday home when he had been expecting space to work through his literary self-doubt, and perhaps the opportunity to spend quality time with his handsome pal Felix, or mysterious additional house guest Nadja. And naturally, the looming threat of summer forest fires provides the catalyst for much ado.
Bad Behaviour (dir. Alice Englert, NZ, 2023)
A pleasing, mercurial first directorial outing from Alice Englert (daughter of Jane Campion), featuring an enjoyable dual lead performance from Jennifer Connelly and Englert as a semi-estranged mother and daughter who start the film at different ends of the earth - mum Connelly entering a new-age wellness camp in Oregon, and daughter Englert on location as a stunt performer in the South Island of New Zealand, on a production that may or may not be The Rings of Power. The film takes some enjoyable potshots at wellness gurus (with Ben Whishaw's often incoherent spiritual adviser being a highlight) and the self-absorption of youth, but at its core is the stunted mother-daughter relationship and a fundamental inability to communicate. Occasionally uneven in tone, the film's mix of pathos and humour doesn't always land, but the experience is never dull and Connelly, in particular, tackles her just-a-little-bit-sociopathic role with gusto.
See also:
Movies: Film festival roundup
2022,
2021,
2020,
2019,
2018,
2017,
2016 part 1 /
part 2,
2015,
2014,
2013,
2012,
2011,
2009 
