Cannes Diary: "Bird" from Andrea Arnold, "Oh Canada" from Paul Schrader, and more...
Monday, May 20, 2024 at 2:00PM by Elisa Giudici
BIRD
A couple of renowned names in competition have presented less-than-perfect movies, while newcomers have showcased some convincing entries today at Cannes Film Festival.
BIRD by Andrea Arnold
Since Fish Tank, I've never quite rekindled my enthusiasm for Andrea Arnold's films. However, Bird came very close. Some may argue that it feels more like a feature-length attempt to mimic Arnold's style than an actual Arnold film, but I personally found it compelling...
Bird takes us back to the rundown suburbs, where a vibrant coming-of-age story unfolds for a 12-year-old girl named Bailey, who is placed in her father's custody following her parents' divorce. Her father (Barry Keoghan) is entirely preoccupied with his upcoming marriage, leaving Bailey to wander aimlessly around the neighborhood, taking photos of the animals and people she encounters. A mysterious and intriguing young man named Bird (Franz Rogowski) then appears. He claims to be searching for his parents who once lived in the area. Bird spends most of his time on the roof of the building opposite Bailey's house and seems to be watching over her as she navigates the complex dynamics of her family.
The most notable novelty of Bird is that it marks Arnold's first venture into magical realism. However, the use of supernatural elements as symbolic keys feels inconsistent and ultimately unconvincing, particularly in the film's final scene. Many attendees have been asking, "Did you understand what that meant?"
In line with the anti-speciesist theme of Cow, Bird integrates a constant animal presence in its human stories, from birds to insects tattooed on Barry Keoghan's body. Both Keoghan and Franz Rogowski are a real stroke of luck for Arnold: they have the right faces to be believable in her cinematic world, but as seasoned gifted professionals, they imbue the film's most moving moments with genuine emotion. Keoghan's speech to his son departing for Scotland is incredible, as is the evolution of his character.
CHRISTMAS EVE AT MILLER’S POINT by Tyler Taormina
It's quite peculiar to witness a film so steeped in holiday spirit like Christmas Eve At Miller’s Point amidst the springtime charm of the Côte d'Azur. Taormina grasps what makes a Christmas film truly exceptional: the twinkling lights, festive decorations, and jovial atmosphere are mere superficial elements without the deeper, contemplative moments that holiday gatherings often stir.
The genuine essence of Christmas always carries a hint of melancholy, a touch of sadness, and even moments of poignant realization that an unchanging tradition—whether cherished or loathed—is on the brink of transformation, destined to fade away. As people grow older and finances dwindle, the seeds of impending Trumpism are already sown in Taormina’s innocent Long Island.
In essence, Christmas Eve At Miller's Point encapsulates the nostalgia of Christmases past, brought to vivid life by a large and impeccably chosen cast. Each scene is intricately woven, teeming with depth and complexity. Ultimately, Taormina ambitiously strives to capture a sense of shared connection through the myriad emotions and disillusionments experienced across generations, portrayed with genuine engagement and rare insight.
His timeless direction already bears the subtleties of a fading memory: even amidst the most jubilant moments, the film is tinged with the bittersweetness of impermanence. Santa's fleeting passage in front of the house, a blur of movement and indistinct forms, serves as a poignant reminder—a fleeting glimpse of joy swiftly followed by prolonged moments of the family lingering in the driveway, enveloped in darkness, their silence echoing emptiness. Taormina masterfully captures at least a couple of such scenes of profound significance, solidifying his status as a noteworthy US indie director to keep an eye on.
THREE KILOMETRES TO THE END OF THE WORLD © Vlad Dumitrescu
THREE KILOMETRES TO THE END OF THE WORLD by Emanuel Pârvu
This year's Romanian competition film marks the beginning of a potentially extensive series exploring queer themes, which appear to be prevalent in this edition. Three Kilometres is a welcome departure from the directing styles typically employed by most of the auteurs selected at Cannes. The camera remains firmly fixed on the ground for the majority of the film, with meticulous framing of shots capturing actors through windows and reflections in mirrors, creating scenes that are often subtly layered.
It's impossible not to draw comparisons to other works from Eastern European and Romanian cinema, particularly the work of master Cristian Mungiu. However, the only constraint faced by Emanuel Pârvu seems to be his attempt to evoke the same level of influence and power, which currently remains out of reach compared to his esteemed compatriot director.
Three Kilometres to the End of the World remains nonetheless a successful film, which tells the destruction of a unique and formerly loving family. They're so homophobic as to prefer to bind their son and subject him to an exorcism rather than giving him anything but a blessing, a way out. The portrait widens from the family perspective to the communal one, in a society where the police, connections, and corruption dictate the law, manipulate reality, and parenthood is experienced as a right of life and death over offspring.
Richard Gere and Uma Thurman in "Oh Canada" © Oh Canada LLP - ARP
OH, CANADA! by Paul Schrader
Oh, Can I pass on this one? The latest Paul Schrader film left me feeling quite unsettled, to the extent that I found myself watching it as a detached observer, lacking engagement. Perhaps it was due to the late hour and a sense of fatigue. While my initial reaction was predominantly negative, I'm relieved that Oh, Canada won't be Schrader's final work or his farewell to filmmaking, especially now that his health has improved. I'm open to the possibility of reassessing my opinion after a second viewing.
Considering Schrader's distinct filmmaking style and his health during the production of Oh, Canada, it's understandable to overlook its rough edges and occasionally clumsy directorial and editing moments. Schrader delves deeply into the metaphysical essence of his cinema so scrutinizing the technical aspects of a film crafted by a 78-year-old director, collaborating with A-list stars and crews willing to lower their wages just to work with him, feels unnecessary.
The highly anticipated reunion with Richard Gere is one Schrader fans have been waiting for since American Gigolo. There's a subtle passing of the torch between Gere and Elordi, who share a similar on-screen charisma; their presence captivates, although their acting prowess may not be its match. They still manage to stir emotions at the right moments. Gere's pursuit of recognition from the Academy is evident in this film, yet, apart from a few scenes, both he and Uma Thurman felt somewhat hollow to me.
The narrative centers on a documentary filmmaker who, facing serious illness, grants his most talented former students the opportunity to create a documentary about him, almost mirroring the style of Errol Morris. Confronting mortality, he approaches the interview with raw and unvarnished honesty, offering a candid confession to the camera and his wife, as if to reveal the true essence of the man she married. He embodies a traditional archetype, one who wakes up one day and abandons his wife and children, whom he has neglected for decades. However, his wife contends that he is delusional, and the intertwining of past and present versions of the story's protagonists raises numerous doubts.
OH CANADA © Oh Canada LLP - ARP. Photo by Jeong Park
I found myself lacking the emotionally raw honesty of a man baring his soul, despite the inclusion of several autobiographical passages and numerous references from Schrader's cinematic repertoire. The film's insistence to pursue this left me somewhat irritated. The one scene that truly resonateds—so beautiful in its essence—is one wherein Gere catches a whiff of the assistant director adjusting his microphone, and becomes ensnared by her scent. In that moment, he wonders with dismay if she can detect the aroma of medication, dried feces, and the looming specter of death emanating from his heart.
When juxtaposed with the profound impact of First Reformed (led by the incomparable Ethan Hawke, with whom Gere cannot quite compete), Oh Canada appears as a pale imitation. Similarly, when considering other recent testimonial films such as Pain and Glory, the film falls short of evoking the same level of emotional resonance.
More soon from Cannes
Reader Comments (3)
I do want to see all of these films though all of these standing ovations make me worry about the films if they're really any good.
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