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Official Oscar entry

Hope – The Possibility of Light in the Darkness

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“You don’t have to love me just because I’m dying. But I need to know that you’ll help me.”

A diagnosis of terminal cancer inevitably brings upheaval and stress into any family. Hope, Norway’s official Oscar Submission for Best International Feature Film (it made the shortlist, but wasn’t nominated), is an intimate and intense look at the dynamics within a family, and especially between spouses in such a troubling time.

Anja (Andrea Bræin Hovig) and Tomas (Stellan Skarsgård) have been together for many years. They have three children together as well as three from Tomas’s first marriage. They have built very separate lives through the years, but have managed to stay together (although not married). A few days before Christmas, Anja learns that she has a brain tumor, likely a metastasis from her earlier lung cancer. Such tumors are invariably fatal.

The film follows Anja and her family through a very difficult eleven day period. They try to keep the diagnosis secret through the holiday, but with Anja’s reaction to the steroids she’s been put on, it becomes necessary to reveal the truth. She is struggling with thoughts of mortality, but also with concern for her children, especially her teenage daughter. Tomas and Anja also must deal with questions within their relationship and how their lives have evolved over the years. All the while they must deal with holidays with friends and with various medical appointments to determine any steps to be taken if there is to be any hope of survival.

At the very beginning of the film is a note that says. “This is my story as I remember it.” The film is based on director Maria Sødahl’s experience of getting such a diagnosis. (Obviously, she recovered.) That is what makes the film such an intimate portrayal of a very trying time in her life. As Anja struggles through such tumultuous times, trying to deal with holidays, family, drugs side effects, and the frustrations of even a good medical system, we can see something of the reality Sødahl lived.

The setting of the Christmas/New Year holidays is interesting because those are days we associate with hope—whether it involves Christmas presents or the dawning of a new year. But for Anja and Tomas, much of what they are seeing is hopelessness. Doctor after doctor tells them there is no hope—only short-term remedies.

That makes the film’s title stand out. This is a film in which hope, while it seems so elusive, is central to the characters’ lives. Hope, as it plays out in the film, is not just about a possible medical outcome. It applies to the future of Tomas’s and Anja’s children. But the real focus of hope that we see here is on healing the rift in the relationship between Tomas and Anja that has grown through years of distraction and routine. If they have only a little time left together, will it be a time of love or only struggle?

The film leaves all its questions unresolved, and in so doing it challenges us to consider our own level of hope.

Hope is available in theaters and through virtual cinema.

Photos courtesy of KimStim Films.

A Few of International Feature Oscar Hopefuls

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Every country (except the U.S.) can submit one film for Oscar consideration for Best International Feature Film. How a country makes that choice varies. There are certain criteria, including how much English is allowed. The Academy has a process through which the films are reviewed eventually ending up with the five films nominated for the award. In early February the short list (this year it will include 15 films) will be announced.

I have had a chance to see some of the films submitted (either at festivals or through screeners), but still it is only about 1/6 of the list of films hoping for recognition. Here is a look at the ones I’ve seen, with links to our reviews if available.

Denmark: Another Round. Directed by Thomas Vinterberg. A group of friends test a hypothesis that keeping a constant 0.05% blood alcohol level is the key to happiness. Vinterberg is a masterful director and has made this a film of humor and pathos. Screenfish review of Another Round. Since it made my year end top films list, I would obviously be happy for this to get a nomination. (On the Shortlist of possible nominees.)

France: Two of Us tells the story of Nina (Barbara Sukowa) and Madeleine (Martine Chevallier), two retired women who have been romantically involved for decades. Though they spend their daily lives together, their relationship has remained largely in secret over that time, especially to Madeleine’s family. However, when Madeleine suddenly falls ill, their relationship is turned upside down and Nina must find a way to hide their secret while also caring for the woman that she loves. Directed by Fillipo Meneghetti, Two of Us is a powerful and heartbreaking piece that puts the wildness of love on full display. Well-written and earnestly performed, Two of Us is a simple film about what it means to care for someone so deeply that you’ll do anything to support them in their time of need. 

Hong Kong: Better Days. Directed by Derek Tsang. Chen Nian is trying to prepare for a college entrance exam. She and others face bullying at the school. After an encounter with Xiao Bei, a young street thug, the boy becomes Chen Nian’s protector. Can Chen Nian escape the violence around her, or will she become part of the violence? Well made film, but not as strong as some others. (On the Shortlist of possible nominees.)

India: Jallikattu. Directed by Lijo Jose Pellissery. When a buffalo escapes from the butcher, the whole village goes into action to try to recapture it before it destroys everything. As the day moves into night, the situation devolves to the point we aren’t sure if the animal is the real beast or the people. Interestingly, the film is bookended with title cards with verses from Revelation. (20: 1-3 at the beginning, 19:17-18 at the end). It’s a dark comedy with some very interesting camera and editing work.

Ivory Coast: Night of the Kings. Directed by Philippe Lacôte. Set in an African prison, a new prisoner is named by the convict boss as the new “Roman”, storyteller. On the night of the red moon, the Roman must tell a story that takes all night. There is a sort of Greek chorus that acts out parts of the story. Meanwhile, the boss is near death and a rival faction is hoping to seize power. It has a bit of magical realism. Interesting, but not compelling storytelling. (On the Shortlist of possible nominees.)

Japan: True Mothers. Directed by Naomi Kawase. Six years after a couple adopt a baby boy, they get a phone call from a woman claiming to be his birth mother and wants him back—or money. The film spends a great deal of time on each woman’s story before we get to the conflict and resolution. It may be a little overlong, but still a worthy story. Screenfish review of True Mothers.

Kazakhstan:The Crying Steppe. Directed by Marina Kunarova. The story of the Great Famine that was the result of Soviet policies during the 1920s and 1930s. Although there are some wonderful landscapes, the story is dismal. This is very much a Kazak story that evokes national pride and animosity toward the Soviet system. I would be very surprised to see this make it to the shortlist, let alone a nomination.

Latvia: Blizzard of Souls. Directed by Dzintars Dreiberge. The story of a young Latvian (Latvia was then part of the Russian Empire) who goes off to fight in World War I.  The innocence of youth gives way to the brutality of war. We see the terrible suffering and loss. It also runs through the early stages of Communist Revolution, and the eventual independence of Latvia. It is a very patriotic film. Screenfish review of Blizzard of Souls.

Mexico: I’m No Longer Here. Directed by Fernando Frías de la Parra. Ulises, the leader of Los Terkos , a cambia dance crew in Monterrey, Mexico, must flee to the US after witnessing a drive-by shooting. In Queens, he is lost. He doesn’t know the language. He has no connection to his culture. He’s befriended by a young Asian girl who lets him squat on her grandfather’s roof. His life had been completely centered in cambia, but now there is nothing to give him direction or purpose. To be so alone in New York City is just part of the sorrow we watch in this tragic tale. (On the Shortlist of possible nominees.)

North Macedonia: Willow. Directed by Milcho Manchevski. This is a trio of stories that focus on motherhood. All three stories focus on women who had trouble conceiving. The first, set in medieval times, is a peasant woman who goes to a crone for help. When, after the child comes, the couple isn’t willing to pay the high price, tragedy waits. The second couple (in modern times) finally conceive twins, but again tragedy will bring darkness into the marriage. The third story focuses on the sister of the woman in the second story, who adopted a child after years of trying to conceive. But there may be something wrong with the child. Very well done chance to think about love, motherhood, and striving for happiness.

Peru: Song Without a Name. Directed by Melina León. A young pregnant indigenous woman learns of a clinic in the city that will provide free maternity services. When she gives birth, however, they steal her baby for foreign adoption. In her grief she works with a journalist to seek the government’s help. The film has some wonderful scenes of the indigenous cultural arts. A very moving story of people who are treated as invisible and worthless by society. A very good film. Screenfish review of Song Without a Name.

Portugal: Vitalina Verela. Directed by Pedro Costa. A very measured, slow-moving film that has extraordinary s cinematography of light and shadow and the use of a static camera. A Cape Verdean woman whose husband left her 25 years earlier to work in Portugal, arrives in Lisbon to discover he was buried three days before. She learns bits of his life as she moves around the immigrant slum. The life they had in Cape Verde seems much preferable to what she finds here. A faithless priest reflects on the darkness of life here.

Romania: Collective. Directed by Alexander Nanau. Documentary about the aftermath of a fire at a Bucharest nightclub. Many of the victims died of infections they got in the hospital. Investigative journalist began to trace the governmental corruption. An amazing part of the film is that the new health minister gave the filmmaker total access. This is a film about the importance of the press to confront governmental lies. Very good doc. It would certainly be worth consideration in both this category and in the documentary category. Screenfish review of Collective. (On the Shortlist of possible nominees.)

Slovakia: The Auschwitz Report. Directed by Peter Bebjak. The story of two prisoners who seek to escape and bring information of what is going on to the outside world. The first half of the film takes place in the concentration camp, where following their escape, the other prisoners suffer increasing punishment. The second half is their journey to get across the border and report. But even then, their reports of the horrors are met with deep scepticism.

Spain: The Endless Trench. Directed by Jon Garaño, Aitor Arregi, and Jose Mari Goenaga. Based on true events, this is the story of a man who, with his wife’s help, hides in his house for over 30 years. During the Spanish Civil War, he escaped capture by the Nationalists and found his way home where he first hid in a hole under a cabinet, and later in a narrow room created by a false wall. Even after the war, through World War II and beyond, he is considered a war criminal until an amnesty is declared in 1969. The stresses of the confinement play out in their lives. They live in constant fear, even when it is time to come out of hiding. An excellently done film about the confines we often must deal with in our lives. It’s easy to extrapolate to the COVID-19 world.

Sudan: You Will Die at Twenty. Directed by Amjad Abu Alata. When a local holy man prophesizes that a child will die when he turns twenty, he begins with a sheltered life, but even after he begins to learn the Quran, his life is geared around his impending death. The entire village believes this is God’s will—except for a photographer who has recently returned from traveling the world. Can the boy find a way to live fully? Screenfish review of You Will Die at Twenty.

Switzerland: My Little Sister. Directed by Stéphanie Chuat and Véronica Reymond. A woman tries to give her actor twin brother one more time on stage before he dies. Her efforts could well cost her a very high price. The film is really about the bond that the siblings share. Screenfish review of My Little Sister.

True Mothers – Conflicting Claims

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What does it mean to be a mother?  Japan’s submission for Best International Feature Film, True Mothers, creates a very human picture of motherhood, but it also is multifaceted. It is the story of two mothers of a child. They have two very different stories, but can they find a way to bring them together?

Satoko has always wanted to be a mother, but her husband Kiyokazu is infertile. After a long process of fertility treatments, they decide to adopt a child whom they name Asato. Satoko quits her job to be a full-time stay at home mother. Then one day she gets a phone call. The caller claims to the son’s mother and wants him back—or money to keep the secret.

The film then transitions to the story of Hikari, a fourteen year old junior high student. We watch as she begins dating a boy, and in time becomes pregnant. Her family sends her to an island near Hiroshima where a woman runs Baby Baton, a place for women who are willing to give up their babies for adoption. Hikari experiences new people and ideas. After the birth, when she returns home, she is angry and resentful for being forced to give up her child.

Six years later, the two mothers meet, but not without conflict. Satoko and her husband met Hikari briefly when they adopted the child, but she looks very different now. Is it really the same person? Her attempts at blackmail are meaningless because everyone already knows their son is adopted. So what can Hikari really want?

Is it fair to assume that only one of these women is really Asato’s mother? The laws of adoption clearly recognize Satoko as the boy’s mother. For the last six years she has been the one caring for him and dealing with problems at school. But what of Hikari’s bond with the child she brought into the world? Is that irrelevant? Each has an identity of motherhood for the child.

The way the story is told giving us extended versions, first of Satoko’s story, then of Hikari’s, there is a dialectic—thesis/antithesis—structure. Which leads us to expect that there will be some form of a synthesis to create a new understanding.

The story eventually comes down to the way the two women understand motherhood and act out what it means to be mothering. Satoko realizes that she has a bond with Hikari that cannot be ignored—for her well-being, Asato’s well-being, or Hikari’s well-being. It will only be through some sort of nurturing of relationship that all will find fulfillment.

True Mothers is available via virtual cinema through local theaters.

Photos courtesy of Film Movement.

You Will Die at Twenty: How to Live

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You Will Die at Twenty is Sudan’s first ever submission for Best International Film Oscar consideration, and only the eighth fiction feature film made in the country. It offers us a chance to consider the ways fear of death may strip us of the joys of life.

When Muzamil was born, his parents took him to the local Sufi holy man for a blessing. Instead, it was prophesized that he would die when he turned twenty. This is announced as God’s command. The thought is too much for his father, who leaves their village, ostensibly to find work, but he is gone for many years. As a child, his mother is overprotective, until the local imam convinces her the boy needs to learn the Quran. And he does learn it, memorizing it in two different reading styles.

But his twentieth birthday is looming. His mother and other women are busy preparing the incense for his burial. He is reluctant to allow a romantic relationship grow with a village girl, because he knows his life is ending. It is of interest that no one ever doubts the prophecy. Everyone accepts that Muzamil is a doomed young man.

Sulaiman, an older man who left the village years ago, has returned. He is looked at as a reprobate. He has traveled the world as a photographer. He has stills and motion pictures that show Muzamil the world outside the village. Sulaiman seems to be the only person around who does not accept the premise that Muzamil is, as Sulaiman puts it, “the walking dead”. He encourages Muzamil to live, even to sin, so that his life, even if short, will be meaningful.

This is a story of a life that is held hostage by the specter of death. His mother literally counts the days. Muzamil never tries to envision a future, because he has been told he has none. Because of this he cannot allow himself to love or to hope. The prophecy has actually stripped him of the freedom of life. Sulaiman asks him to imagine another world—not just one far away, but one in which his death is not a given.

In press notes, Director Amjad Abu Alala relates the way this reflects Sudan under the dictatorship of Omar el-Bashir. He says, “The Sudanese government used Islam to shut everyone’s mouth—when you say “God says” nobody talks any more.” For the Sudanese in a post el-Bashir world, this film is a call to live freely. And it should be noted that the invocation of God is used by many who wish to end conversation.

I also think that the film speaks to more universal themes. Certainly there is a sense in which knowing that we are mortal makes us reflect on life. For Christians, that is a message we receive each year when we receive ashes on our foreheads. Knowing that death awaits us all can be paralyzing for some, but for others it reminds us of the importance of each day. Death may be a reality we must all face, but life is also a reality that we are called to embrace.

You Will Die at Twenty is available on virtual cinema through local theaters.

Photos courtesy of Film Movement.

1982 – Love and War

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Oualid Mouaness’s 1982 is a story about fear and courage, love and war, innocence and maturity. The film is Lebanon’s official submission for Best International Film consideration.

For fifth grade student Wissam (Mohamad Dalli) the end of year exams aren’t a problem; he’s a top student. What he is worried about is if he will be able to tell classmate Joanna that he loves her. He doesn’t understand the import of what is going on in the world—that Israel has invaded his country.

His teacher, Yasmine (Nadine Labaki) is fully aware of the dangerous times. Her brother is going south to fight with the Christian militia. She has an ailing father. She is in the middle of the political conflict that is represented by her brother on one side and her fellow teacher and boyfriend on the other. As the school day goes on, the contrails and sound of planes are a constant reminder of what’s happening. In time the sound of explosions rumble in the distance, then nearer. Plumes of smoke rise out of Beirut where the students live. Dogfights happen in the sky above.

The story moves back and forth between Wassim’s attempts to get the courage to talk to Joanna and the adults in the story trying to deal with their own worries and at the same time keep calm in the classrooms. It makes for a useful contrast between the innocence of childhood and the dangers and troubles of the adult world. But in time, the film wants us to understand that relationships—and love—are a key to being resilient in the times of trouble.

The childhood storyline is really the more compelling one. As he talks with his friend about his desire to make himself known to Joanna, and Joanna talks to her friend about who could have left the anonymous note in her locker, the sense of the power of childhood love is very clear. It is at once both scary and something we crave. It is a reminder that even in the midst of terrible and fearful events love has the power to transform us. It has the power to save us. For Wassim, we see that power come forth in the end with a bit of magical realism to save not just his love for Joanna, but his city.

The film triggers in me a touch of a contrast between scriptures. The Apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, and I reasoned as a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” That thought fits well with the adults in this story as they must deal with the realities of the war drawing close. But there is also the story, “[Jesus] called a child, whom he put among them, and said, ‘Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”  1982 captures both of those perspectives. And it calls us live in the light of both.

1982 is available on VOD and via virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Utopia.

My Little Sister – Bonded for Life

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Switzerland’s entry for Best International Feature, My Little Sister (Schweterlein), from directors Stéphanie Chuat and Véronica Reymond, is the story of a bond between siblings. It also asks the existential question of what is life if we cannot live it out?

Lisa (Nina Hoss) is a playwright who has not been writing. Originally from Berlin, she now lives with her husband Martin (Jens Albinas) and children in Switzerland, where Martin is the head master at a private school. Lisa’s twin brother Sven (Lars Eidinger) has been battling leukemia and is now able to leave the hospital. Lisa takes him to a theater in Berlin where he was scheduled to perform Hamlet. But in his absence, another actor has been working in rehearsals. Sven’s desire to be back on stage is overpowering, but he’s not physically up to the task. Lisa is determined to give him one last chance to be on stage. But her efforts take her away from her family, both physically and emotionally.

As Sven’s health rapidly deteriorates, Lisa begins to write a play for him to perform—a monologue/dialogue based on Hansel and Gretel. The play is really about the bond between these siblings, who have been together for all their lives. But what will be left of her family once Sven is gone?

While the story of the issues facing Martin and Lisa are an important part of the story, the real emphasis is on the relationship between Lisa and Sven. They have an almost mystical bond. Both are tied to the theater. They create a kind of yin/yang. But what will happen if that bond must be broken?

The directors note that within the theater community in Germany, “An actor who doesn’t perform doesn’t exist. He is erased from memory.” That is a key understanding in watching this film. Is Lisa still a writer if she is not writing? If not, what is she? While Sven has been sick, is he “erased from memory”? And what about when he dies? Will he be permanently forgotten?

But this is not just about if we might forget loved ones who are gone. (We don’t.) It is about knowing how to live out who we are. That involves what we do and how that fulfills us. It also has to do with the relationships we have with others—family, colleagues, friends, strangers.

The irony of the story is that Lisa, in trying to give Sven life through a new play, actually finds her own connection to life in her writing. Often times it is in service to another that we can find our true selves.

My Little Sister is available via virtual cinema through local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Film Movement.

Blizzard of Souls – Latvian Pride

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Latvia’s official entry for the Best Foreign Feature Oscar is Blizzard of Souls from director Dzintars Dreiberg. The film is based on a book by Aleksandrs Grins, which was banned in the Soviet Union. The film has been the most watched film in the history Latvian cinema.

The story follows Arturs (Oto Brantevics), a young Latvian farm boy, from the beginning of World War I. Latvia, at that time, was a part of the greater Russian empire. When Germany invaded Russia, the patriotic fervor swept all the men into the army—into a Latvian battalion. Arturs was too young to sign up (a few months shy of seventeen), but his father (who was too old, but well experienced in an earlier war) give his permission and the both, along with Arturs’ brother all enlist.  Training camp seems like a big game, with most of the younger men not taking it seriously. But soon they are at the front and the reality of war is overwhelming.

We follow Arturs through injuries, the death of those close to him, the Communist Revolution (which enlisted the army for support), eventually disillusionment with the Revolution, and enlisting in a new Latvia force to gain the country’s independence, which it held during the period between the wars.

The film is a Latvian version of All Quiet on the Western Front, in that it shows the dark side of the First World War with its trench warfare and the use of gas. The dream of fame and glory of those going off to war quickly becomes a matter of survival as all those around you die. The film is a realistic depiction of the brutality and horrors of war. It also shows the brutality of the Communist rule in the early days of the Soviet Union. (Which accounts for Grins being shot and the book banned.)

But unlike the Erich Maria Remarque book, this film ends with a celebration of Latvian nationalism. This film is clearly a film that speak to the Latvian people. Some of the history seen here would need no explanation to Latvians. North American audiences may feel that the transition from Russia to USSR to Latvian independence is missing a few steps along the way.

Blizzard of Souls is available through virtual cinema at local arthouses.

Photos courtesy of Film Movement.

Collective – The Press, the State, and Trust

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“The way a state functions can crush people sometimes.”

In 2015 a fire broke out in Colectiv, a Bucharest nightclub. Twenty-seven people died because there was only one exit. The corruption that allowed that to happen enraged the populace and led to the fall of the Romanian government. But after four months, thirty-seven other victims died in hospitals because of infections. Collective, from German-Romanian director Alexander Nanau, takes us into the controversy, the investigation, the governmental response to these new deaths, and the reasons behind those deaths.

We learn that while Romanian officials were telling their people that their hospitals were as good as any in Europe, in reality, they were a disaster. The main problem, we discover, is that the disinfectants that were being sold to hospitals were extremely diluted, making them completely ineffective. The company that made the products provided bribes and kickback to administrators and officials. As the investigation is underway, the owner of the company dies under mysterious circumstances.

Nanau has brought us an observational documentary. There are no interviews or voice overs. Rather the camera allows us to be present for a variety of events. It takes us into the newsroom of Sports Gazette (Gazeta Sporturilor) where Cătălin Tolontan leads a group of investigative reporters. We meet a burn victim who models for art photographs. We go to press conferences with the Minister of Health as he tries to defend the corruption being discovered in hospitals and the government. When a new Minister of Health takes over, he allows Nanau access to his meetings as a way of being transparent.

It may seem a bit strange that the investigation seems to be led by a sports journal. Tolontan had experience with investigative stories dealing with the government, mostly with the Ministry of Sports. His expertise was an important part of why the story ended up in that newspaper, which is among the most read in Romania.

One of the key issues involved in the film in many ways is trust. Whom can we trust? The government spokespeople? The reports from labs who test the disinfectants (those labs are accredited by the government)? The doctors who run the hospitals? The press? The filmmaker?

When Vlad Voiculescu becomes the new Minister of Health halfway through the film, he shows a great amount of trust by allowing Nanau to bring his cameras into his offices. Voiculescu, as an outsider, wants to establish transparency so that the people can have a sense of trust. The idea is that trust will beget trust. Voiculescu seeks to bring reforms to the health care system, but he is challenged by some who want to undermine his efforts.

I should note that the film doesn’t end on a hopeful note. As the new election looms in Romania, Voiculescu is faced with the idea that the reforms he was beginning could vanish when the next government takes over. That election, in 2016, reflected the populism that was also taking place in other countries, including the US and the UK. It may make us wonder about where we place our trusts—as individuals, and as a society.

Collective is the winner of several awards from film festivals around the world. It is Romania’s official submission for Best International Film consideration.

Collective is available in theaters and on VOD.

Photos courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

Wednesday at AFIFest 2020

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My cat has enjoyed AFIFest 2020 Presented by Audi a great deal this year. She rarely has a chance to spend a whole afternoon on my lap when I actually have to go to movies. I doubt she realizes the qualities of movies she’s sleeping through. She’s missing out on some very good stuff.

The documentary Collective, by German-Romanian filmmaker Alexander Nanau, arrived at AFIFest with a load of festival awards. It takes place in the aftermath of a tragic 2015 nightclub fire that claimed 27 lives. The corruption that that fire exposed led to the fall of the government, and a new temporary government of technocrats. Yet, another 37 victims of the fire died over the next four months, mostly from infections. All the while the Minister of Health claimed the hospitals were among the best in Europe. When journalists discovered that the disinfectants being sold to hospitals were blatantly diluted, a new scandal erupted. This film takes us inside the controversy, the investigation, and the attempts at the new Minister of Health to create a better medical system.

The key quote I found in the film: “The way a state functions can crush people some of the time.” This is one of many films I’ve seen this year that portray the need of an independent and trustworthy press for democracy to function. Collective not only speaks to that need, but is clear that the power of government can be overwhelming. This film is Romania official submission for Best International Feature Film Oscar consideration.

In Ekwa Msangi’s Farewell Amor, an Angolan immigrant in New York is reunited with his family after seventeen years apart. Walter came to America following the Angolan Civil War, his wife Esther and daughter Sylvia went to Tanzania. It has taken all this time for Walter to get permission for them to join him. Meanwhile, their lives have gone in different directions. Esther has become quite religious. Walter has made a life for himself—with another woman. Sylvia, in high school, has her own dreams. There are chapters in the film that give us the perspective of each of these characters. It is interesting how dancing keeps coming into play within the film. The characters find identity, both separately and as family, in dancing. At times that dancing may be a source of conflict, but it can also be the beginning of healing.

You may wonder if there are ever any comedies at festivals. Yes, in fact I took one in yesterday with My Donkey, My Lover & I by Caroline Vignal. Antoinette, French fifth grade teacher, is having an affair with Vladimir, the father of one of her students. When he cancels a romantic getaway to take a hiking trip with his wife and daughter, Antoinette decides she will do the same hiking adventure and surprise him. Totally unfamiliar with hiking, she hires a donkey for the journey. Naturally, it becomes a comedy of errors as Antoinette must deal not only with Patrick the donkey, but with her total lack of hiking ability. When she does manage to run into Vladimir and his family, the awkwardness and revelations become a bit more than she expected. The trip turns out to be a way for Antoinette to come to better understand herself and opens up new possibilities for her.

Our Mothers – Fleshing Out the Truth

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The aftermath of the Guatemalan Civil War and genocide is the background for Our Mothers (Nuestras Madres) from Belgian-Guatemalan writer/director Cesar Diaz. The film received attention at various festivals, including winning the Camera d’Or at Cannes Critics’ Week. It was Belgium’s official submission for Best International Feature Oscar consideration.

Ernesto (Armando Espitia) is a young man who works for an agency that identifies the remains taken from mass graves. They assemble the skeletal remains, test DNA, and return the bones to families for proper burials. He has a personal stake in this process: his father was among those who were disappeared during the Civil War. When an indigenous woman from a rural areas asks him to exhume the bodies near her village, she has a picture he thinks might include his father in the group of guerillas. His mother Cristina (Emma Dib) tries to discourage him, but he wants to know the truth. When he arrives at the village, a number of women show up wanting to bear witness to what happened. We don’t hear their testimonies, but we see a series of visual portraits of the women.

When he returns home, and continues his work, he receives word that his father’s remains have been unearthed. It is at this point that the question of truth begins to come to the fore. Cristina is getting ready to testify at a trial of some of those responsible for the genocide. The truth she shares is not the story that Ernesto has heard all his life. There are things she has tried to shield her son from. But now it all becomes known.

The fact that much of this film takes place in the presence of bones provides an excellent metaphor. The opening shot is of bones being placed together to make a complete skeleton. The bones are not the whole person. They are not themselves the story or the truth. They only remind us of what once was. The real story must be built around this framework, and what is missing is as important as what we see. The bones are not the truth, but as we hear the stories told about these people, the truth takes on flesh.

In press notes, Diaz says he had started off to make a documentary about survivors of the genocide, but when he heard the accounts of rural villagers, he wanted a different way to tell those stories. He says that in the Guatemalan Indian tradition, things must be spoken to bring them into existence. The film is not actually about the stories (although we hear a few of them); it is more about the importance of speaking and hearing the stories.

The trial that is going on throughout the film has grabbed the attention of the society. It is on TVs and radios everywhere Ernesto goes. He is captivated by the stories. But oddly, when his mother is in the car with him, she keeps wanting to turn it off. We understand later that she does not need to hear the stories; she lived them. But is does become important for Ernesto to hear those stories—even the ones that Cristina tries to protect him from. The truth is not just what happened in the past. The truth only becomes real when it is spoken and heard.

Our Mothers is available through Virtual Cinema.