MIFF Notes #4: EX LIBRIS, The Strange Colour Of Your Body's Tears, Good Manners

The strangest thing about MIFF so far is the effect it has had on me. Not the excitement or the exhaustion or the crystallisation of my cinematic tastes, although all that has happened as well. No, the strangest thing is I've become alarmingly social. I wasn't seeing any of my third day films with anyone I knew, so I had been nervous about the seemingly inevitable feeling of loneliness that usually comes from sitting in big crowded theatres with no-one to talk to. However, something remarkable has happened. At each of the four sessions with complete strangers, I've struck up conversations with the filmgoer sitting next to me. Part of this is strategy. MIFF is insanely busy so the more people you know who can save you a seat at a screening you're running late to is a good idea. However, there's something else too.

At the end of the first day, a friend whose been going to MIFF for several decades, messaged me about the atmosphere. She wrote, "Miffing is full of discovery - it's such a friendly gregarious event because everyone is there, together to indulge in their singular cinematic passion." Truer words have never been written. Strangers leave their bags in the cinema, rushing out to get a coffee or go to the bathroom, and you find yourself talking to others. In all of these cases, I've been the one to strike up conversation, curious to know their recommendations or to get their takes on films. I find myself changing depending on who I'm talking to. So, for an elderly couple, Liz and Matthew, who started listing off cinematic passions, I did the same. Another woman, Caitlin, recognised my deeply nerdy notebook from another screening, so I took on a more self-depreciating tone. It's wonderful.

My day began with another long film, Frederick Wiseman's three and a half hour documentary, EX LIBRIS - The New York Public Library (A). At that duration, a film has to work hard to prove that the time was worth it, especially when the subject is as seemingly dry as a public library. But Wiseman is a documentarian beyond compare, using every moment to paint a picture of the institution as necessary with multiple different meanings to different people. It would be easy to go a more traditional talking heads doco route of having various experts discuss what the library means, but that would be didactic and simplistic. Instead, Wiseman takes us on a tour, allowing the viewer to work the film's thematic thrust for themselves. He never gives any captions or context, just drops into the middle of a talk or a meeting to give the the impression of walking through the building. If sometimes we want to stay a little longer or move on a little quicker, there is always something just around the corner to peak the interest.

EX LIBRIS - The New York Public Library (2017)

It's easy to pick memorable scenes from the film, as many of the film feature passionate people talking intelligently about whatever it is that interests them. A woman demonstrates the way sign language can convey an emotion, depending on the intent of the speaker. A middle-aged curator telling a group of students with an almost giddy joy the variety of dog pictures in the image collection. Elvis Costello discusses why he resists easy or simplistic classifications about his music. Or the scene where a young man riles up at academic stuffiness before launching into a powerful piece of spoken word poetry, all while a baby incessantly cries in the background. I could go on, but it's the cumulative effect of these scenes that makes EX LIBRIS so wonderful. Together, in all their infinite variety, they produce an incredibly clear thesis statement; libraries are essential and far more than just books. They act as social hubs, points of human contact, a database of knowledge and life.

The film also shows with incredible clarity the way that each of the New York Public Library's 80 branches is uniquely different, catered to the specific needs of each community. One late scene shows a meeting in a small one-room library in a black neighbourhood, which is described as the heart of the NYPL. As they discuss the ways race has effected the distribution of knowledge and, in particular, cite a disturbing fact about text books, its hard not to get riled up along with them. Libraries, and the documents they house, act as a way of correcting assumptions by proving them wrong, something all too valuable in the time of "fake news".

That the final scene is not that, but another man talking poetically, but rather dryly about his love of porcelain, which is cut off is fitting. Life at the library, in all its infinite varieties, goes on. For all its length, I never wanted EX LIBRIS to end and craved more, yet felt completely satisfied. For library nerds, this is utterly essential, a goddamn masterpiece that is beautifully, deeply human. I loved every moment of it.

Not so much with the final film in the Cattet Forzani retrospective. After having a very positive response to their previous two films, I was eagerly anticipating the third and final. Sadly, 2013's The Strange Colours Of Your Body's Tears (C-) was bitterly disappointing. Gone is Amer's sensory bliss or the structured chaos of Let The Corpses Tan, instead replaced by a focus on a confusing narrative. Taking cues from Dario Argento, Brian de Palma and Nicolas Roeg to name a few, it collapses under its stylistic elements which are distracting and self-consciously arty.

The Strange Colour Of Your Body's Tears (2013)

One black and white sequence would be extremely effective, if it weren't so jerky, like a stop motion film with frames cut out. Worse, scenes are repeated over and over again, sucking them of any initial interest they had, and making for a dull, frustrating viewing experience. For a movie that goes for just over 90 minutes, this feels much, much longer. It's a disappointing end to what had been the season, but Cattet and Forzani's film making is so unique and interesting that I can forgive this film's failings. Sadly, I had to miss their Q&A, as I had to rush off to another screening. Maybe it would've provided some context to the film, but I do not see how. That said, I would like to take this moment to thank Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani for coming down and speaking about their films, as well as Alexandra Heller-Nicholas who moderated the talks for providing such depth and knowledge. I will miss seeing them around at MIFF and eagerly anticipate whatever they do next.

My last screening for the day was one of the films I was most excited for at MIFF, the Brazilian-French queer werewolf almost-musical film, Good Manners (B+). Described in an introduction to the screening as "an urban fairytale", it tells the story of poor, lonely Clara who is hired as a nurse for the poor, also lonely, heavily pregnant Ana. As their relationship develops into a romantic one, they have to face the fact that Ana's unborn baby may be a little... strange. As a sucker for queer takes on genre films and feminist werewolf movies in general, Good Manners was made for me to love and love it I did.

Good Manners (2017)

It's not a perfectly made film, with it's tiny budget showing through at times, through very flat lighting ("it looked like a soap opera!" said Christina after the screening) and a slightly unconvincing baby Werewolf model, which the audience found hilarious. I, personally found it strangely cute, and reminded me of the practical effects of metaphoric Werewolf masterpiece The Company Of Wolves. However, the emotions it produced are more than real. The film takes a complex, deeply moving view on motherhood, not just biologically but as a person who provides love to a child, putting their needs above all. In this relationship, Good Manners finds kindness and compassion in the depiction of two outsiders, finding a place for one another in an indifferent world. The final shot may be shamelessly manipulative but I still found myself tearing up. What can I say, makeshift families in queer cinema are my heart and soul.

Tomorrow, I'll be a true globetrotter, watching a Georgian/Estonian feminist drama, an Indonesian film for young adults about grief, a documentary about Christmas Island and an experimental drama from the Dominican Republic. In my next dispatch, I will also be reviewing the two films I saw on the fourth day at MIFF (The Eyes Of Orson Welles and Fugue), as I'm at my partner's tonight and will not have time!