TIFF12 REVIEW: 2012 Short Cuts Canada Programmes

Programme 3

“Why do you always have to ask me impossible questions?”

Based on the short story June by Dionne Brand, writer/director Charles Officer delves into perception and mindsets inside the bedroom. As two lovers come together after a prolonged distance apart, the feelings and closeness shared cannot be compared. But as a radio DJ (Helene Joy) begins to comment on Toronto’s new mayor’s declaration about wanting to hire more policemen, the two find their ideological wiring to be quite far apart indeed.

100 Musicians is constructed in such a way that we the audience knows exactly what Mayor Rob Ford said through archival footage of his speech and yet still plays with our acceptance of what we hear as truth. As the DJ attempts to get out her quote, Sydney (Rainbow Francks) turns down the volume or distorts the words with the whoosh of his balcony door. It’s therefore easy to side with her more levelheaded beau when June (Abena Malika) talks about how brilliant a proposal to hire more musicians for the city would be.

The film concerns more than the he said/she said ordeal or the mildly heated debate about optimism versus pessimism. Those aspects are relevant and do provide commentary on how citizens view big government and the arts as ways to prevent crime and make the streets safe. But what I found most compelling is the argument posited that while we hear we might not actually be listening. Our experiences are forever put through a filter of personal ideals, state of mind, and emotions so it’s easy to project who we are upon the truth. The key becomes accepting our faults and appreciating the humility of allowing the capacity to be wrong.

---

“Attain to the transparency of women”

Responsibilities shouldn’t define us, but they also shouldn’t be neglected. For Nydia (Laury Verdieu) they have been all she has ever known. A quiet girl comfortable with the fact she finds herself at home every night with chores and a book of poetry, the mere acknowledgement by a boy ends up turning her life upside. Marie-Ève Juste‘s Avec Jeff à moto [With Jeff] depicts this first brush with the desire to let loose.

Tasked to watch her brother Jackson (Brandon Pierre) while their mother goes on a date, the surprising proposition from classmate Jeff (Liridon Rashiti)—beholden to a reputation for being a womanizer—piques her interest enough to change her clothes, look, and unwavering mentality for doing what’s right. Hoping the brief motorcycle ride taken that morning was merely the beginning of something fun and spontaneous, the realization she may not even care whether it becomes more is both scary and freeing.

I’m not sure if With Jeff is meant share a “Be yourself” message or a “You only live once” call for action, but the way in which Verdieu opens herself up and accepts failure as an option is an admirable attribute. Less concerned by Nydia and Jeff’s potential date and more her willingness to break the mold and let the person she has kept trapped inside loose, the film finds itself exemplifying independence and the fact conservative representations of women are not gospel.

Contemplating the thought of not spending another night alone at home shows her capacity to live. Perhaps she’ll discover it isn’t what she wants after all, but she’ll never know without giving it a chance.

---

“Let us rather reflect on the life he had”

I wanted to really love Martin Thibaudeau‘s Reflexions but its complex constructions attempting to be masked by a façade of simplicity is just way too manipulative. The idea is a clever one—flipping the kind words of love and honor from a eulogizing priest (Tony Robinow) with the dark realities of truth—but its use of reflective surfaces to invert meaning can’t be more contrived.

The music soars and swells to take us onto the journey through the deceased’s family, leading us down a path only visible through reflections because the director has chosen to take us there. I guess this is true for all works of art, but the great ones go beyond the surface desires of their maker. I have no room to infer, no ability to come to conclusions that differ from the person sitting next to me—the film’s plot is the be all end all and I don’t like that sort of impenetrable intellectual prison.

Nathalie Breuer‘s widow along with Marianne and Rosalie Fortier‘s sisters do well to say a lot with their stoic faces not quite holding back tears, but it’s really the make-up artists and wardrobe designers who do all the work when words are not at their disposal. The artifice is commendable, but the overall whole is hollow beneath that surface. Unfortunately I can’t forgive this one fatal flaw.

---

Devoid of words, Dylan Reibling‘s Model pits man versus machine inside the world of architecture in order to show how technology continues to replace human touch with cost effective precision. A comedic look at the insane level of artistry necessary to craft just one 3D building from foam with glue and X-ACTO knives, the rapid work of a computer melting and cooling plastic becomes too difficult to keep pace with.

All parts of the equation are represented—Mr. Jenkins’ (Kresimir Bosiljevac) thrifty business owner looking for the next best thing; Peter Pasyk‘s model maker history’s lost craftsman no longer able to enjoy job security due to a unique skill set; and Michael Thomas‘ turncoat architect toeing the company line to remain relevant as his old colleague is left to dissolve into the ether. This is the capitalistic dichotomy ever evolving within the changing tides by creating new, cheaper, and more effective products while transforming the indispensible into the expendable.

Cutely moving along the conveyor belt of progress with its mechanical, techno score and stark white sterility invaded by the color of the future, Model‘s actors use big expressions to give a silent movie-era aesthetic. Like that format’s eventual demise, we quickly learn everything can be improved. If we aren’t willing to also change accordingly, we’ll be left behind obsolete and alone.

---

Stripped of all artifice to capture the pure physicality of National Ballet of Canada principal dancer Guillaume Côté, Ben Shirinian‘s Lost in Motion portrays the intrinsic beauty of the human form and its capabilities.

Soaring through the air with the accompaniment of digital effects to enhance the out-of-this-world moves performed, this floor routine is gorgeously juxtaposed with a stirring instrumental score that hits you emotionally with the visuals. A filmed rendition of its star’s unparalleled skill, the piece showcases the artistic worth Canada’s dancers possess and the wonders within this tool we call the body.

---

“My problems weren’t with me on the plane”

We all use our jobs as an escape from personal lives rife with tragedy and hardship. Through the routine of daily exercises and the structure of schedules and deadlines we are able to exist in an objective world devoid of the problems we know we must meet head-on afterwards. For Robin (Patrice Berthomier), this reprieve from the reality of life and death comes in the form of sailing the skies to a steady drone of an engine while sadness is left behind.

Co-written by Madeleine David, Sophie Goyette‘s Le future proche [The Near Future] takes us on a journey of the heart as the internal musings of its central pilot are heard against the monotonous, unimportant activities surrounding him. Flying for radio personalities disseminating traffic patterns, couples on their anniversaries, and students learning to take the yoke and soar, the machinations of his craft help alleviate the feelings building inside once discovering tragic news by phone. The voices and laughter of strangers passing throughout the day become white noise to distract from memory.

Pretty landscapes and aerial views are seen as more than just picture perfect vistas; they are the sights only witnessed when traveling above the worry of humanity. Above everything that can cause pain, suffering, joy, and happiness, Robin lives in the serenity of the heavens. Contemplative and sorrowful, finishing a long day at the office won’t erase what has happened. It will, however, let him process it amidst normalcy as the breakdown to come waits in the wings.

---

“It tastes like a cinnamon heart”

A comedic manifestation of a broken heart as fatal disease, Dusty Mancinelli infuses a quirky bit of humor into the all-powerful soul crushing human ailment we call love. His Broken Heart Syndrome transforms our mental anguish into medicinal side effects and the faux seriousness of the psychological pain inherent to love being ripped away into a bona fide illness. Russ (Jim Annan) cannot deal with the reality of his girlfriend Carol’s (Joanna Douglas) betrayal and tries any means necessary to uncover a cure of his life-crippling ailment.

Full of comedic set-pieces like projectile vomit into a child’s face and the off-beat eccentricity of his doctors played by Christian Lloyd and Allen Stewart-Coates, the film tries hard to go for broke with its concept by actualizing the intangible. Mancinelli takes us through the stages of heartache as Russ’ sickness makes its way towards depression, anger, unbearable pain, and the hope for acceptance as the time since his break-up continues to increase. His hyper-real delusions project themselves onto reality as his reactions to them ruin his life even more.

An inventive charade to give meaning to our rite of passage through love, its process is a cute construct with which to laugh at ourselves for having experienced the same unexplainable angst. Annan’s subtle everyman allows us to enter the work by remembering when we too were in his shoes, battered and beaten by our body’s willingness to wreak havoc as a result of our mind’s refusal to move on. The events are hopefully more dramatic than our own personal histories while the laughter they bring helps soothe the soul and ease the pain for the next heartache.

---

“White guys always dilly-dally”

Leave it to “Trailer Park Boys” creator Mike Clattenberg to find a way to get prostitutes into the desert. Co-written by star Nicolas Wright, Crackin’ Down Hard brings its director’s derisively crude humor to the masses via a young man (Wright) looking for some quiet meditation and the pimp (Yoursie Thomas) who cajoles him down to partake in a little extracurricular activity.

Off-the-wall every step of the way, watching the two men’s back and forth as Steve cons Terry from his perch to get a glimpse of his female merchandise is a riot. Arguing about manners, race, and the sanctity of privacy, it doesn’t take long before Wright’s character gives into his baser desires and accepts his dumb luck at stumbling upon an oasis of sexual experimentation.

Where the film ultimately goes will surprise you as its seemingly random progression continues its odd trajectory down into the depths of inappropriate behavior. There is definitely a resemblance to Julian and Ricky’s misadventures in Clattenburg’s old Showcase series and any fan of the trailer park should find himself having a good time in Steve the Pimp’s accommodating hands.

---

— Programme 1 – Programme 2 – Programme 3 —
— Programme 4 – Programme 5 – Programme 6 —