Over the past four years I have come to the conclusion that there is no way to see every film at the True False Film Festival, so instead I have developed a method of seeing films based on their directors or subjects. This method has quickly become unusable because every time I meet a director or subject I want to see their film because they are all so interesting. The compromise is looking at the description of the documentary, my experience with the director or subject, and my schedule, and seeing which fits best. This year there were two films that, based on these criteria, I simply could not miss.
As part of my Italian Cinema class, I was introduced to Pietro Marcello, the director of La Bocca Del Lupo (In the Mouth of the Wolf), and as the class went I on discovered he had very interesting views on cinema, views that I also have. The more he spoke about film, the more passionate he became, and the more I wanted to see his film, just to see how much of that passion had extended into it. The film did not disappoint.
After working a six hour shift as a volunteer, I stood in the queue line for the Forrest Theater, which is the venue located in the Tiger Hotel during the festival. I got there over an hour early and was still number 20 in line, and with only 180 seats available I was not expecting to get in, so when I did, I was overly excited.
The venue was not the ideal one for a film with subtitles. All of the seats were level, so for those sitting farther back, it was hard to see the lettering at the bottom of the screen, but if you were dedicated, it could be done. The nice thing about the film, however, was that it didn't rely as much on interviews or narration, but instead was a very visual piece. A story could be drawn from the imagery on the screen. It may not have been what the director intended, but it was enough to keep you interested if you couldn't read the subtitles.
The film told two stories. In the Question and Answer part of the showing, Marcello revealed that he had been asked by the city of Genoa to make a documentary about the city, but since he is not from Genoa, he used archival footage to allow the history of Genoa the opportunity to tell its story. The other part of the film was based on Enzo and Mary, and while I won't give away their story, the story of how the director found them is just as interesting. Outside of a baker, Marcello saw a man who had what described as "the face of cinema," so he approached him and asked to tell his story. What he got was one of the greatest discoveries in documentary filmmaking that I have seen.
The film is structured in a way that entwines the story of Enzo and Mary with the story of the city, using clips from tapes they sent to each other while Enzo was incarcerated, mixed with narrative written by the director. There is suspense in the film, as well as a neat circular structure that gives the audience just enough guidance to keep the film from becoming an art film, but still allows them to draw their own conclusions.
Something I found interesting was the way in which Marcello revealed the story of Mary and Enzo. While the audience was introduced to the two through their tapes, they hadn't been visually introduced to them before the "confession" scene. The scene is called a confession because Marcello asked them to simply speak to the camera nd say what they felt needed to be said. He did this for seven months before getting the segment he used. Once he got the story on tape without coaxing it from his subject, he put it onscreen in one large segment. There is no intercutting and very little b-roll. He allows the subjects and their body language to intrigue the audience, and he lets it go on just long enough to keep the audience interested without letting them zone out. There are so many undertones to the story being told that come through when watching the people who tell it, and none of them would be noticed if the confession wasn't presented in such a straight forward manner.
The visual style of the film was perhaps my favorite aspect. It was like watching Amelie, but knowing that it was a documentary. The coloring and lighting of the shots were gorgeous, and the incorporation of archival footage was motivated and seamless. There were two voices telling two stories, but visually they were all one.
All in all, this was one of my favorite films of the entire festival. It was gorgeous, it was well told, and it was honest. The filmmaker acknowledged his limits, and instead of trying to do it anyways, he found a way to allow the people of Genoa to tell their story. It is clear that he respects his subjects and his art form, something that can sometimes be lost in any form of cinema, so when a director clearly cares about these things, it is refreshing.
Something I found interesting was the way in which Marcello revealed the story of Mary and Enzo. While the audience was introduced to the two through their tapes, they hadn't been visually introduced to them before the "confession" scene. The scene is called a confession because Marcello asked them to simply speak to the camera nd say what they felt needed to be said. He did this for seven months before getting the segment he used. Once he got the story on tape without coaxing it from his subject, he put it onscreen in one large segment. There is no intercutting and very little b-roll. He allows the subjects and their body language to intrigue the audience, and he lets it go on just long enough to keep the audience interested without letting them zone out. There are so many undertones to the story being told that come through when watching the people who tell it, and none of them would be noticed if the confession wasn't presented in such a straight forward manner.
The visual style of the film was perhaps my favorite aspect. It was like watching Amelie, but knowing that it was a documentary. The coloring and lighting of the shots were gorgeous, and the incorporation of archival footage was motivated and seamless. There were two voices telling two stories, but visually they were all one.
All in all, this was one of my favorite films of the entire festival. It was gorgeous, it was well told, and it was honest. The filmmaker acknowledged his limits, and instead of trying to do it anyways, he found a way to allow the people of Genoa to tell their story. It is clear that he respects his subjects and his art form, something that can sometimes be lost in any form of cinema, so when a director clearly cares about these things, it is refreshing.
No comments:
Post a Comment