TIFF '23: "Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World" is one wild ride

by Cláudio Alves

So many films wear the label of "provocative" as a medal of honor, boasting about their challenges to the audience and engaging shock. Yet, most of those reveal themselves as anything but, their provocation an empty buzzword  for a press release. Because disappointment is so common, it feels doubly refreshing when a genuinely provocative film comes about, like a punch to the solar plexus that makes you smile and beg for more. That's the case of Radu Jude's Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World, a Locarno prize-winner recently announced as Romania's official submission for the 96th Academy Awards. Pardon the vulgarity, but it's a fucking masterpiece...

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TIFF ’23: “Days of Happiness” goes down a familiar road

by Cláudio Alves

You first notice sounds – the gurgle of running water, then the chirps of distant birds. It’s symphony-like, played by an orchestra with no maestro, though it’s through such a person we come to experience it. She’s Emma, a promising young conductor whose life is on the precipice of unraveling and to whose subjectivity Chloé Robichaud ties her new film. While the character’s vocation, sensitive ear, and relationship with a female cellist will inevitably draw comparisons to TÁR, Days of Happiness differs significantly from Todd Field’s Volpi Cup champion—the biggest distinction residing in the pictures’ narrative trajectory. One is about a public downfall, the other a private ascent…

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TIFF '23: "The Boy and the Heron" goes into the unknown

by Cláudio Alves

Miyazaki's "The Boy and the Heron"

Hayao Miyazaki's last last picture before his latest last picture – already being discredited as such by Studio Ghibli VP Junichi Nishioka – saw him take on the model of a relatively conventional biopic. Despite its wavering between reality and dream, the now and the before, The Wind Rises represented one of the director's most straightforward efforts, doing away with the fantasy elements that defined most of his career. Had it stayed his swan song, it would have made for a career's closing chapter shaped like an intersection of culminating obsessions and stylistic disruption. The Boy and the Heron, previously known as How Do You Live?, posits a inversion of those paradigms. Oft-repeated ideas are invoked only to be collapsed, while tone and style return to the land of fantasy and dream logic.

Before reading ahead, A WARNING. This film will probably be best enjoyed by those who go into it blind, similarly to how Japanese audiences received it. If you want that experience, be satiated in the knowledge this is another masterpiece by Miyazaki. If you yearn for more, come with me down to a place that's no place within a time without time…

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TIFF ’23: “Toll” tests the limits of a mother’s love

by Cláudio Alves

A mother’s love should be unconditional, but so often it isn’t. A mother knows best, except when she doesn’t. With some parents, preconceived notions of who their child should be crash against who their child actually is. Illusions and delusions take their toll and what one person calls love may feel like hatred to the person who endures it. It's easy to follow anger’s siren song, and rage against unfit mothers and ungrateful children, depending on where you fall. Broaching these fraught relationships is risky business for any artist, even those agile in avoiding cliché and melodrama. 

Watching Toll, Carolina Markowicz’s follow-up to the acclaimed Charcoal, one can’t help but give thanks that this particular artist took the risk…

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TIFF ’23: In “Seagrass,” marriage is a fragile ecosystem

by Cláudio Alves

Down the Pacific coast, there’s a place that looks like heaven but is no safe haven. You reach it by boat, sailing over turquoise waves, the wind carrying hopes of healing and promises of solutions to problems that have none. First-time feature director Meredith Hama-Brown and cinematographer Norm Li capture the environment’s full spectrum of color in their new 1990s-set film Seagrass, rendering bleak material beautiful. Skin tones are sun-kissed, while the deepest shadows are cobalt blue. It’s like we’re seeing the shoreline through a painter’s eyes. We’re not.

Rather than the artist’s gaze, we experience a family’s troubled perspective. They’re two girls and their parents, bound to a couple’s retreat where they hope their marriage will find salvation…

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