NYFF '24: "Afternoons of Solitude" is a Barbaric Beauty

by Cláudio Alves

When I was very young, I remember being besotted by bullfighting. Around where I grew up, the so-called art of the "tourada" was fundamental to the local culture, a noble practice to be celebrated. My parents were a tad horrified by my interest, and I was an ignorant child. For some reason, I had never realized what was happening in the arena, too blinded by the matador's glamorous figure, the dance-like spectacle, and the thunderous applause. But seeing it live and then watching TV recordings, I realized something. What I thought were theatrical tricks and mud were actual violence and blood splatter. Back then, I dreamed of being a vet, so the thought of all that animal pain made me feel nothing but revulsion for what I once found beautiful.

I was reminded of this while watching Albert Serra's Afternoons of Solitude, a documentary on Peruvian-born "torero" Andrés Roca Rey which earned the Catalan director the biggest prize at this year's San Sebastián Film Festival. For once, I saw some of the beauty again, along with the brutality and the horror. I felt tears in my eyes and nausea erupt from within. Quite the cinematic experience…

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NYFF '24: Portuguese pastoral poetry in "Fire of Wind"

by Cláudio Alves

The first thing one notices about Marta Mateus' feature debut, Fire of Wind, is its striking look. A vineyard extends as far as the eye can see and the camera gobbles up every detail, crisp and razor-sharp in that way digital filmmaking so often is. The visual style is almost aggressive in how much texture it seeks to pack into every shot, a spin on haptic cinema that ensures the spectator considers each line in the grapevine and the rustle of plump windswept leaf. You can almost count the blades of dry grass below, far into the distance, as there's no artful shallow focus here, no anamorphic distortion or other trendy affectations of the cinematic image. It looks like little else out there – not even the films of Fire of Wind producer Pedro Costa...

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NYFF '24: "Viêt and Nam" finds heaven underground

by Cláudio Alves

In the darkness of the movie theater, filmmakers can conjure images the audience has never dreamed of. Sometimes, they reveal the impossible, dreams that only exist on the silver screen, that looking glass in endless molten metamorphosis. They can reflect the audience back to themselves and the world, too. Sometimes, they're the sweet secrets within your heart or fears you never even knew you had. The power of image-making cannot nor should it be underestimated. Watching Trương Minh Quý's Viêt and Nam, I felt such power, the wonder and awe. 

And it all starts underground, at the bottom of a mine. It starts somewhere where death waits, yet freedom blossoms. It's a trip down to hell that leads to paradise, temporary as it may be…

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Review: "Joker: Folie à Deux" needs double the Folly and more Gaga, too!

by Cláudio Alves

Back in 2019, Todd Phillips accomplished the seemingly impossible, taking a DC Comics movie to the Venice Film Festival and walking out with the Golden Lion. Predicted to be a dangerous provocation by alarmist critics, Joker soared to brilliant box office results and Oscar glory to boot. From its eleven Academy Award nominations, it won two – Best Original Score for Hildur Guðnadóttir and the Best Actor trophy for Joaquin Phoenix. Sure, there were naysayers, but the project's success was undeniable by most metrics. Cut to 2024, when Joker: Folie à Deux was received with polite dismissal at the Lido before clumsily dancing its way to theaters where it's bound to disappoint just as many people as its predecessor entertained—maybe more.

Philips does all but spit in the face of the first movie's fans and comic book aficionados, too. Musical maniacs may well balk at the reedy vocals and uninspired staging, while Little Monsters have plenty of reason to ask for more Gaga. It comes to a point where one almost has to respect the director for his commitment to displease. If only he did anything worthwhile with it…

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NYFF '24: Mati Diop tells a ghost story in “Dahomey”

by Cláudio Alves

In a territory located within present-day Benin, there once was the Kingdom of Dahomey, which prospered from the early 17th to near the dawn of the 20th century. Around the mid-1800s, the kingdom became the focus of European imperial forces after a couple centuries as a supplier of enslaved people to the Atlantic slave trade. First came the British and then the French. The Franco-Dahomean wars led to its fracturing, a colonial schism that resulted in the kingdom's annexation into French West Africa. In 1892, when European forces invaded, thousands of treasures and historical artifacts were taken from the royal palace. For decades, they have resided in French museums despite many Beninese calls for their return. By 2021, the two nations reached an agreement.

Out of the estimated 7,000 objects, 26 pieces were shipped from the Musée du quai Branly to Cotonou, in Benin. Mati Diop's Dahomey details this journey, its cultural significance and context within the decolonization process. This year's Gold Berlin Bear winner considers all of it in a swift 68 minutes, embracing documentary techniques while combining them with a touch of poetry, perchance a phantasm…

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