2011 Sarasota Film Festival

Just recently (well, actually not so recently anymore since this post got tucked away for quite a while) I spent several days at the Sarasota Film Festival. As students, my boyfriend and I got a sweet deal on tickets and packed in as many films as we could manage. I ended up seeing nine films in four days and loved every one of them.

This was my first time at the festival and it was a rather amusing experience. When I arrived for the first film I was herded into what reminded me of the fenced lanes of a sheep pen or of dogs waiting to be released for the races. Apparently you have to get there extra early to wait in line, and each line will be released in the order of arrival when it's close to movie time; then it's a foot-race against the elderly to get into the theater. Once seated, the retired rich 50-somethings all start discussing the best restaurants in Florida and which highways are best to get over to the uppity Palm Beach on the east coast. Once the lights finally dim and the movie starts the inevitable mumbling, unwanted verbal commentary, and overly-loud questions start from the older, more hearing impaired members of the audience. And then the snoring. My only conclusion as to why so many people would get up early, get ready, drive to the theater, and hobble on into a seat only to pass out  10 minutes in is that in the realm of the retired the film festival must be socially mandatory. "All the cool gray-hairs kick it at the film festival yo." 

Honestly, I was surprised at how few young people showed up for the films, but I had a few small-talk conversations with some really nice ladies and enjoyed the hell out of every film I saw. Next year I’ll be there champing at the bit an hour before each film with the best of them.

Now, onto the reviews!

Made In India  

For as long as I can remember I’ve been weary of the idea of pregnancy and child birth, so much so that at 4 years old I told my mother that I didn’t want to have my own children, that I wanted to adopt instead. There have only been a few brief instances where I considered the idea of giving birth to my own children, so when reading the blurb for the documentary, Made In India, I was extremely intrigued.

Directed by Rebecca Haimowitz and Vaishali Sinha, this was the first film I saw as a part of the 2011 Sarasota Film Festival. This documentary takes a look at a new phenomenon of “outsourcing” surrogate mothers to India. In the United States the cost of having a surrogate mother carry and give birth to your child is often too steep for the average couple. In India, however, there is a blossoming industry opening new doors for infertile couples around the world. In this award winning documentary we follow the lives of one American couple who have tried everything to conceive on their own, their Indian surrogate mother whom they find to help fulfill their dreams, the business that brought them together, and the struggles and joys they all encounter throughout the process.

The film itself was a little hard to watch for me, as I get sick when watching real shaky handheld video, but I’m really glad I stuck it out. It was so interesting to learn about this new industry and what it means for all parties involved. Since this is such a new phenomenon there really are no proper rules and regulations, some people get ripped off, some mothers are treated unfairly, and some hospitals rail against the process making it hard for the resulting children to be placed in the right hands. With many great experiences outshining the difficulties, however, this industry is beginning to be taken more seriously it seems, and eventually there will be regulations making the whole process safer and more fair all around. I think, overall, as long as the surrogate mothers involved are compensated well and cared for properly, this is an amazing option for women and couples that can’t give (or are sickened by the very idea of giving) birth to their own children.

Submarine

So for this film I found a synopsis that says it better than I would have.

Fifteen-year-old Oliver Tate has two big ambitions: to save his parents' marriage via a carefully plotted intervention, and to lose his virginity before his next birthday. Worried that his mom is having an affair with New Age weirdo Graham, Oliver monitors his parents' sex life by charting the dimmer switch in their bedroom. He also forges suggestive love letters from his mom to dad. 

Meanwhile, Oliver attempts to woo his classmate, Jordana, a self-professed pyromaniac who supervises his journal writing - especially the bits about her. When necessary, she orders him to cross things out. Based on Joe Dunthorne's acclaimed novel, Submarine is a captivating coming-of-age story with an offbeat edge.

Directed by Richard Ayoade, Submarine is a not-so-typical coming of age story with an obvious French New Wave influence. The energy and style in this film make it well worth a watch. 

Super

Ok, well actually I didn’t see this film at the festival. I bought my ticket for it, and then decided I was just too lazy to wander over to Hollywood 20 again to stand in line forever so I rented it on Comcast On Demand instead.

“SHUT UP, CRIME!”

After seeing the previews for this film all I really cared about was that Ellen Page and Rainn Wilson were in it, especially since I have a giant girl-crush on Ellen Page. Honestly, the plot just seemed crazy and fun and with two super-witty actors it was sure to be full of laughs. Well…there were laughs indeed. This movie is just senselessly violent with plenty of spurting blood, spandex, and a sexy-but-drugged-up Liv Tyler as the damsel-in-distress who must be rescued from the heartless drug dealer, Kevin Bacon.

Directed and written by James Gunn, Super is about Frank D’Arbo (Rainn Wilson), a socially awkward superhero wannabe on a crusade to save his wife (Liv Tyler) from an evil drug dealer (Kevin Bacon). While doing his hero research in a comic book store he meets manic Libby (Ellen Page), the young store clerk who forces herself into Frank’s crime-fighting plans and becomes Boltie, his crazed sidekick. As the Crimson Bolt, him and Boltie kill their way through minor offenders until their final epic battle at the home of the egotistical drug dealer, Jacques.

Just picture Dwight from The Office suiting up in some red spandex and beating people senseless for breaking his rigid set of rules on how people ought to act.  

Frank D'Arbo: [Into tape recorder] Crimson Bolt's journal, night two. There was no crime last night. I did however see a few suspicious characters, who might have been planning something for toni...
[Hears noise]
Frank D'Arbo: Hold on!
[Runs around corner and out of sight. Returns a few moments later]
Frank D'Arbo: [Into tape recorder] It was just a box, the wind was pushing it down the street.

Good. Stuff.


Offside

My favorite film of the bunch, Offside, is about a handful of Iranian girls who disguise themselves as boys to try and sneak into a stadium football (soccer) match.  Women are not allowed to enter stadiums in Iran, but some diehard fans try their luck at slipping past the guards. Inevitably, some are caught and arrested, and brought to a holding pen outside the stadium walls until they can be transported elsewhere. It is at that holding pen where the majority of this movie takes place.

Directed by Jafar Panahi, Offside, as well as his other films, are banned in Iran. Panahi himself is spending the next six years in jail and has been banned from writing any screenplays, making or directing any movies, giving any interviews, and from leaving the country for the next twenty years.

Offside highlights the restrictions Iranian society imposes on it’s women, while showing the spirit and determination of it’s people. One of my favorite clips from this film is a conversation that happens between one of the girls who’s been arrested and the head guard in charge of holding them. The girl questions him about why women cannot enter the stadium and argues her side. The longer they talk the harder it is for the guard to answer and the more flustered he gets. You could feel how torn he was between his duty as a soldier and the logic being presented to him. It is that realism, that emotion, that makes this movie shine.

As a side note, I also found it interesting that, according to IMDB, Jafar Panahi asked each of the girls in the film to turn up with their own idea of how they would disguise themselves as a boy, so what we see in the film was the girls’ own real attempts to pass for boys.

Kinyarwanda

The story of Kinyarwanda:

During the Rwandan genocide, when neighbors killed neighbors and friends betrayed friends, some crossed lines of hatred to protect each other. 

At the time of the 1994 Rwandan genocide, the Mufti of Rwanda, the most respected Muslim leader in the country, issued a fatwa forbidding Muslims from participating in the killing of the Tutsi. As the country became a slaughterhouse, mosques became places of refuge where Muslims and Christians, Hutus and Tutsis came together to protect each other. KINYARWANDA is based on true accounts from survivors who took refuge at the Grand Mosque of Kigali and the madrassa of Nyanza. It recounts how the Imams opened the doors of the mosques to give refuge to the Tutsi and those Hutu who refused to participate in the killing. 

KINYARWANDA interweaves six different tales that together form one grand narrative that provides the most complex and real depiction yet presented of human resilience and life during the genocide. With an amalgamation of characters, we pay homage to many, using the voices of a few.

This film was so moving; the tragedy, the compassion, the horrors, the empathy, and resilience of the human soul. This film made my heart ache with sadness as well as with happiness. It’s easy to take life for granted here in the United States and to forget both how ugly and how deeply compassionate the world can be. This movie will snap you to your senses and send your heart out to those who are still fighting for their lives in other countries.

Another Earth

In this sci-fi drama two lives literally crash together on the night of an unbelievable discovery: the discovery of a duplicate Earth behind our sun. Rhoda Williams (Brit Marling), a student at MIT, and John Burroughs (William Mapother), a brilliant composer with a growing family, become entangled in a complex web of tragedy, love, pain, and hope.

This film, directed by Mike Cahill, raises questions about time, space, the possibility of other life in the universe while unfolding for the audience a strong emotional drama.

What if there was another Earth just like ours? What if that Earth was exactly mirrored to ours? Would you want to meet yourself? Could their lives be different than our lives? What could that mean for us?

How To Die In Oregon

Growing up at my mom's house meant growing up with Bailey, a big, furry, gorgeous black dog who loved to be by your side day and night and would come running at the very sound of the cheese drawer. He became so much a part of the family that you could hardly imagine the house without him. Even as Bailey got older he was just as loving and just as excited to have a snack at your feet or protect you at the front door. Of course with age came some health problems, some cancer, hip problems...but we got him treatment as he needed. Eventually, though, things took a turn for the worst and he was in a great deal of pain, barely holding on it seemed. After a night of crying and cuddling my family drove him to the vet where the doctor met them at the car and gave him an injection right there in the backseat. The needle had barely been emptied when he drifted off, quietly, sadly, but peacefully.

Just the other day my Dad's family went through a similar experience. Nike, an 11-year-old ball of energy, hopped off one of the beds in the house and broke his hip, tearing a ligament as well. After a trip to the vet we found out with surgery he either wouldn't recover, or would always be in a lot of pain and unable to run and play like he loves to do. There just wasn't any hope; he was just too old and his hips too weak. After a heartbreaking night much like the night spent with Bailey, my family took Nike to the vet and he too drifted off without a struggle.

We comfort ourselves by saying we didn't want them to suffer, we cry and cry but would never let our animals struggle through each day in constant pain, unable to function normally just so we could hold onto them a little longer. We have them put down to save them from all of that, it's the "humane" thing to do.

Why then do we allow ourselves and our family members to suffer until the bitter end? When someone dies in a terrible accident we often hear, "At least they went quickly, they didn't have to suffer." When my step-sister was thrown from a truck several years ago we were at least thankful that she died instantly, without some terrible struggle. Terminal illness, however, means unbelievable suffering. Even when a family member slips into a vegetative state with no hope of recovery, we don't pull them off life support and give them a simple shot to quickly end their life, we pull out their feeding tube and let them slowly starve to death. If a family pet was in pain with no hope of recovery we wouldn't lock them in the shed and wait for them to die of thirst or hunger...in fact, you'd be arrested for that. Do our pets deserve to be treated more humanely than ourselves and our closest loved ones? Do we not have the capacity and the right to make our own decisions about when and how we go?

 
"In 1994 Oregon became the first state to legalize physician-assisted suicide. At the time, only Belgium, Switzerland, and the Netherlands had legalized the practice. 'How to Die in Oregon' tell the stories of those most intimately involved with the practice today -- terminally ill Oregonians, their families, doctors, and friends -- as well as the passage of an assisted suicide law in Washington State." (IMDB)

I was really excited to see this documentary and it definitely lived up to my expectations. Physician-assisted suicide is always something I've had strong opinions about and this film really highlighted the physical and emotional struggle individuals and families go through when confronted with a terminal diagnosis as well as some rationalization behind the decision to end things quickly and peacefully.

I feel it has to be about quality of life. If you've been diagnosed with a terminal illness and know that the question now is not "if," but "when," then shouldn't it be your decision how long you suffer for? Sure, some people can live several years with reasonably normal lives, but eventually things will enter that final spiral and is it really better to have to watch your body and mind slowly and painfully shut down rather than to surround yourself with your friends and family, say your goodbyes, and ease out of this life on your own terms?

In Oregon, any individual whom two physicians diagnose as having less than six months to live can lawfully request a fatal dose of barbiturate to end his or her life. With regulations as to who is eligible and when they are eligible I think physician-assisted suicide makes perfect sense and I'm amazed that it has taken so long, but glad that this movement has begun to get it's footing.

The Piano In A Factory

A film about a father struggling to keep the love and company of his daughter, The Piano In A Factory, is an unexpectedly light-hearted comedy. When an ex-wife resurfaces wanting custody of their child, Chen must find a way to give his daughter a piano to persuade her to stay with him. After some comedic attempts at procuring a ready-made piano, Chen decides him and his misfit bunch of friends will build one for her out of scrap metal from the boarded up steel factory they all used to work at.

 
I found the movie to be a little odd, but still fun to watch. It seems a bit like the filmmaker said, "Hey! Let's make a movie about someone building a piano from scratch!" and then did everything he could to get the plot to go there without much concern for character appeal or motivation. The daughter will only stay with whichever parent will give her a piano. That selfishness and heartlessness gives us no opportunity to sympathize with her or with her father who would bend over backwards for such a bratty little girl.

 
Despite these things, however, the mismatched group working on the piano and the random chase scenes and relationship drama that goes on are amusing to watch. I wouldn't say this is a must see, but it was definitely an easy watch with some nice highlights.



Terri

A film for anyone who felt like an outcast in highschool, whether you were the girl who had terrible rumors spread about her, or the weird quiet kid nobody seemed to like. Terri, follows the life of one boy as he forms some unlikely bonds with other misfits as well as his awkward but caring vice-principal who tries to take him under his wing and ease him out of his shell.

Worthiness And The Courage To Be Vulnerable

How many times have I thought, "I'm not good enough," "I'm not talented enough," "I'm not smart enough," "I'm not pretty enough," "I'm just not enough"? How many times have you thought those same things? Since I've been in college it seems like those thoughts shout louder and louder all the time, they start standing on crates with giant megaphones, chanting at the top of their lungs, so that the good thoughts get lost in the cacophony of my constant self-degradation.  I feel broken here, not understanding why I can't hold onto the happy things, why I don't feel deep connections, don't feel passionate. I feel worthless, embarrassed, ashamed. I try to numb those feelings, ignore them, tuck them away somewhere where they can't get to me. I try to be strong, to push away situations that make me feel vulnerable, push away relationships that might leave me hurting in the end.

It's time to rip the crates out from under those feelings of worthlessness and make some changes. 

In class last week we watched one of the TEDx talks, a lecture by Brené Brown, a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. Her work on the ideas of connection, love, and worthiness highlighted some of my own personal struggles and realizations. For instance, she notes that many of us feel an excruciating vulnerability in life, we struggle with worthiness, and we struggle with feelings of love and belonging. What makes us so different from those who don't struggle? According to Brown, the main difference is those who feel a strong sense of worthiness simply believe they're worthy of love and belonging. The fear that we're not worthy is what gets in our way. We have to have the courage to be imperfect, we have to have compassion, to be kind to ourselves first and then to others, and to let go of who we think we should be and be willing to be who we are. We have to embrace vulnerability, it's necessary. We have to be willing to say "I love you" first, to do something where there are no guarantees, to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. It's fundamental.

Through her own struggles with her research and with her own feelings, Brown came to realize that although vulnerability is at the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, it is also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, and of love. So often we numb vulnerability, but when we do this we end up numbing everything. You cannot selectively numb, when we numb fear and shame we numb joy and gratitude as well. Instead, we have to let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen. We have to love with our whole hearts even though there are no guarantees. We have to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror when we're wondering, "Can I love you this much?", "Can I believe in this this passionately?" We have to say, "You know what, you're imperfect and you're wired for struggle, but you're worthy of love and belonging." And we have to, most of all...

Believe we're enough.

When all I could hear were the reverberating chants of my negative thoughts I did everything in my power to shut them out, to hide from them, to numb my senses. Like Brown, I felt like it was a constant battle, a constant street fight, as she says. I wasn't able to muffle the sounds of those megaphones without also shutting out the whispers of confidence, though, so there was no hope of change. As soon as I accepted that it’s ok to feel vulnerable, however, as soon as I made some big leaps in my school life and my personal life, went where there are no guarantees, as she might say, I started to feel different, I started to feel like I was worth something again, like I'm good at things, like I'm passionate again. When I stopped numbing myself, my positive thoughts were finally able to take a stand, to yank those crates back from under the feelings of worthlessness and sing out loud. The more I accept myself and my decisions, the more I lean into the discomfort of life, the more I let myself feel vulnerable, the more I also start to feel courageous, to feel a sense of worthiness, to feel compassionate. Opening myself up to the possibility of being brought down again also means I’m opening myself to all the happiness I've been missing out on. Letting myself feel vulnerable, feel unsure, feel scared means letting myself find love, find confidence, and find creativity. I have to stop trying to shut out my negative thoughts, instead I have to open up and let the good thoughts be heard until they can drown out the bad ones. I have to remember that it takes courage to let yourself be vulnerable and that I have what it takes. I am enough. 

Universe Crumbs

Sometimes it seems like the universe leaves you little breadcrumbs of inspiration and hope when you most need them. Little clues that you're on the right path. Lately I've felt like I'd stumbled off that path into some cold, jagged, horrible place where any tiny breadcrumbs were hidden deep in the shadows or gobbled up by grimy little poisonous creatures scurrying at my feet. The only way to save myself was to blow a hole in the side wall and back-track a bit. It was scary, but I've done it and I can already feel the warmth from up ahead and have found my trail of breadcrumbs once again.

Maybe you know what I mean, maybe you don't.

The other day I wandered onto campus wearing a brown button-down with rolled sleeves, a pair of dark comfy jeans, a cute new pair of sandals, and my DG sunglasses that I seem to have acquired from who knows where.  None of this really matters other than to say for one of the first times in a long time I felt cute, confident, happy, and motivated. I had a chai latte in hand thanks to Alex Runde as we both walked over to the Stephen Bissette demo and boy did the day feel good. Stephen, a cartoonist and graphic novel artist, was doing a drawing and inking demo while talking about his own work as well as giving tips on how to get into the field. As I walked in the room and turned the corner I felt a sinking feeling as I realized that even on my tip toes I could hardly see Stephen's face, let alone what he was drawing. Everyone was crowded around in a tight inefficient circle trying to see what he was doing as he spoke. With some craning their necks and others clambering to secure a spot standing on one of the few nearby drawing tables I found a little hole that I could peer through and decided his talk would still be worth the hours of standing and not being able to see. Glad I didn't forfeit my plans because little ray-of-hope-breadcrumb number one came after his first two drawings. As he switched pages he had everyone switch places. Anyone who couldn't see was to move to the front and secure a good spot for themselves and all who had just been able to watch him had to mosey on to the back. It's those little things that can make your whole day and sometimes in some small way reassure you of your life's choices. As if one tiny thing working out means you planned your day well after all instead of wasting your time and you suddenly have life all under control. Silly, but often that's how it feels. Maybe my mood is just easily influenced. So anyway, right up front in perfect eye-line of Stephen Bissette, I let myself get carried away by his talk of finding what you love and doing it no matter what and by his seemingly effortless inking of a dark vampire and a suspicious old man. He talked about how some years things were so good that he could work on all his own projects and then how other years he had to take any job he could find just to pay the rent, but that no matter how it was going he loved what he did and loved to keep it fresh and try new media and work on new material. Hearing his joy and passion seep through into his words was so inspiring. I jotted down a handful of notes and left chuckling, with a glow of excitement.

By that time Alex was long gone so I wandered over to the school library. Since reorganizing my life (you know, blowing a hole in that side wall?) I've been trying to make the most of my time and do things that I usually don't think I have the time for. I browsed the shelves for a while, picking up books on comics, on animation, on design, and then wandered my way back out into the sun. And wouldn't you know it, breadcrumb number two. Sitting out in front of the library is a squeaky old cart covered in VHS tapes with a little sign attached to it that says "Library Give-Away." Pushing a few uninteresting movies out of the way I uncovered a tape of old classic cartoons. And then a documentary on American Cinema. And then another. And another. And...well you get the point. I ended up leaving there with an armful of old VHS on film noir and westerns and other cinema. I guess to some that might not seem like a sign from the universe, but to me...it's like that feeling you get when somebody gives you a big warm smile to show they understand you and your face can't help but smile back. It's like the universe was saying "Hey, because you went for it today, you went to a demo, you got inspired, you wandered through the library...because you did all of those things, here's a little reward and a reminder that this is what you love, this is what you want to do."

Sometimes at Ringling, and in life in general, you can feel as if you're losing yourself, like maybe you never wanted to be in the arts, or do what you're doing, and you can't quite remember how you got in so deep. When it gets like that you just have to find those breadcrumbs again, find those little things in life that remind you to smile and make you feel 'right', even if it means blowing a hole in the side wall of that cave and running with all your might in another direction for a while. Eventually you'll find those crumbs again and they'll lead you back out into the sun.