Best International Film: Shortlist Wishes and Predictions
Wednesday, December 20, 2023 at 11:30PM
Cláudio Alves in Asian cinema, Best International Feature, Best International Film, Bye Bye Tiberias, Citizen Saint, Godland, Oscar Punditry, Oscars (23), Perfect Days, foreign films

by Cláudio Alves

Portugal's BAD LIVING is an actressexual feast, but it's unlikely to get shortlisted.

The Academy will announce its shortlists for various categories tomorrow, including Best International Film. For the past few months, I've been writing about a lot of these movies and have, so far, watched 44 of the 88 submissions. So, it seems logical that I'd have something to say before the race gets whittled down to 15 titles vying for five nomination slots and, inevitably, one little gold man. While predictions are important, I'll start by expressing more movie love, naming what films would make my shortlist. Undoubtedly, it'll be very different from the Academy's selection. If that's for better or worse, you decide…

From the 44 films I've watched, here are the submissions I would shortlist. Click on the links for their reviews. I included a quick capsule for the titles that still need to be written about at The Film Experience. They're in alphabetical order:

 

 

 

These images of childhood conceal the reality of a place that may disappear any day now. These images are my memory's treasure. I don't want them to fade.

The personal is political, and only through a commitment to specificity can one grasp the universal. This is proven throughout Lina Soualem's documentary, where the director considers the women of her family, with a particular focus on her mother, actress Hiam Abbass. Not only does the film unravel a moving portrait of Palestinian displacement in the face of Israeli force, but it also provides a complex look at the immigrant experience. Abbass left Palestine behind decades ago, pursuing an acting career in the so-called Western world, a choice with lifelong consequences. Though Lina's birth prompted a reconnection with her Palestinian family, schisms persist, throbbing in silent ardor, sometimes even beyond the grave. Such pains don't invalidate the love that's there, however. In the end, Bye Bye Tiberias is like an intergenerational conversation about motherhood crossed with a love letter to the family it depicts, their culture, the land they've lost.

 

Shot in high contrast black-and-white, Citizen Saint invokes a stony reverence over its images long before the titular idol disappears, only to return as a mysterious mute, sculpture made flesh. Or maybe he's just a foreigner upon whom others project their wants and needs, bargaining for a miracle. But when miracles do happen, what does it mean? Are we to believe the heavenly light or reject it, backing away into the cloistering shadows of reality? The light may only manifest to reveal the ugliness of those it illuminates. After all, part of the film's purpose lies in the study of meaning, how we engage with objects and symbols, often with selfishness in the heart and brutality, too. Tinatin Kajrishvili's film concerns these images and ideas within a mining community in Georgia that's from our time but also feels timeless, stuck in post-Soviet limbo where desolation rules the day. Though living, the people strike the viewer as the ghosts in a ghost town, making this messianic fable occupy the space between a passion play and some cruel phantasmagoria. 

 

 

Inspired by a small collection of late 19th-century photographs, director Hlynur Pálmason tells the story of a Danish priest traveling into the unforgiving landscape of rural Iceland. Out there, among people who didn't ask for his arrival nor welcome it, he plans to build a church while documenting a foreign reality to which he essentially can't connect. There are shades of Silence in this study, an idea of colonialism masked by a spiritual mission in tandem with the fool's odyssey toward his own perdition. Yet, nature is even more present here, majestic and monumental, ready to consume mankind and reveal its crimes hidden beneath thawing snow. The visual grandeur, immaculately created by DP Maria Von Hausswolff, contrasts with the smallness of Man, be it the priest or his antagonists. Acting-wise, I was especially taken with Ingvar E. Sigurðsson's hostile performance, how he suggests an interiority our protagonist can't recognize, intimidating but powerless when the time comes. Then again, powerlessness might be what lies at the base of our shared human condition.

 

 

In Tokyo, a middle-aged man wakes up in his humble abode, waters his plants, and prepares for the day. He cleans toilets for a living, keeping the city's public restrooms looking pristine while handling the labor with striking serenity. Sometimes, a beautiful play of light catches his eye, and he takes a picture with the camera he always carries. Driving from place to place, he listens to an assortment of old-school cassettes, from Lou Reed to Nina Simone. He'll wash in the public baths and dine in small corners where he's a saturnine regular. Before bed, he'll read from a cheap paperback, and then, while sleeping, he'll dream an impressionistic kaleidoscope of the day's images. That's his routine, and that's Wim Wenders' latest narrative feature, a hypnotic rumination on quotidian peace that works best as a tone poem rather than a commentary on class. Vaguely reminiscent of Nomadland, the film thrives in the comfort of routine and gentle rhythms, Franz Lustig's perfect cinematography, and a sublime lead performance by Kōji Yakusho. His last scene alone should put the Cannes-winner in conversation for every Best Actor award under the sun.

 

 

Some films that deserve honorable mentions include Australia's SHAYDA, Bulgaria's BLAGA'S LESSONS, Estonia's SMOKE SAUNA SISTERHOOD, Mongolia's CITY OF WIND, Chile's THE SETTLERS, and Austria's VERA.

 

Now, for my shortlist predictions, in order of likelihood:

 

Should be a lock, but you never know with this category.

 

Despite its auteur film bonafides, this austere rom-com has enough charm to convince even the most mainstream-inclined voters.

 

Dramatically bombastic and popular across the festival circuit, this should have an easy time getting shortlisted.

 

Netflix is pushing it hard. Could this do similar numbers to All Quiet on the Western Front?

 

If not here, it'll be shortlisted for Best Documentary.

 

When the worst insult its detractors can throw at it is that it's very Miramax-y, you know it'll be a hit with AMPAS.

 

A recent groundswell of love from critics and the festival crowd convinces me that Mexico will get in. It's incredibly moving, which always helps.

 

Never bet against the Danish submissions.

 

Well, they loved Nomadland, and Wim Wenders is already a three-time Oscar nominee for Best Documentary.

 

Glossy and epic in scope, this Venice prize-winner feels like the kind of socially-conscious storytelling AMPAS likes to recognize in the category.

 

Even just in stills and promotional videos, it's very impressive work. Their embrace of Loving Vincent in the past is also a boon – the Academy already knows and likes these filmmakers.

 

Like Tótem, its profile has been recently raised by critical support, festival notices, and the like. The timing is right.

 

This would be a nice follow-up honor for the Lunana team.

 

Zar Amir Ebrahimi is becoming a force to contend with in international cinema. Her performance here should get the attention of the actors in the voting body, at the very least.

 

A smart, committed campaign and an emotionally affecting film could make this the first Filipino entry to reach the shortlist phase.

 

With the shortlists just hours away, what are your predictions? More importantly, what are your favorite Best International Film submissions?

Article originally appeared on The Film Experience (http://thefilmexperience.net/).
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