by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
I ponder just how many films center around a family as the backbone of its story, or make use of different dynamics within a family to explore any number of premises. In thinking about the reason for why that has become such a recurring theme, it’s because every person who has ever breathed life on this planet through the propagation of species comes with ancestral ties to those who came before us. As one gets older, there enters the possibility of forming new ties in adulthood with those who can become your family. Regardless of what happens to be the case for any given individual’s familial relationships, its depiction in film is almost infinite, and my experience at this year’s festival reminded me of that. So in looking at six more films from the Chicago International Film Festival, I think it’s appropriate to look at them from the perspective of how directors from different countries explore their idea of family in stories that feel especially personal. Introducing Familial Dissonance.
Bliss — Low Side of Liked It
The appropriately titled Bliss originates from Israel, and comes with an added bit of history I find interesting. The film marks a reprisal of collaborators from another Shemi Zarhin picture, Aviva, My Love. While I have not seen that film, having the knowledge going into Bliss that the film’s stars reunion as a married couple would mirror their roles from another film 18 years prior did strengthen my investment in the history behind the movie’s central relationship. Bliss revolves around Sassi (Sasson Gabay) and Effie’s (Assi Levy) seemingly tranquil relationship which experiences sudden turbulence when a figure from Effie’s past reappears in her life. Out of every movie I watched at the festival, simplicity is at its most potent in Bliss. It could be easy to infer that remark in a disparaging manner, and perhaps it would be were it not essential to the point of the film. While I wouldn’t describe the narrative as especially surprising or innovative, that doesn’t equate to the film not knowing what it wants. In lieu of presenting the audience with something inherently ostentatious to grab their attention, much of the runtime is comfortably devoted to getting to know all the different facets of this couple’s everyday life. Whether it’s observing Effie and Sassi in the sanctity of their home, or individually at either of their places of work, we hardly fall short in getting to know either character as human beings, flaws and all. Once we do gain our footing with who this pairing is and what they mean to each other, it’s easy to long for that state of tenderness between husband and wife. The movie even is privy to that feeling, as it has the desire to comment on how love morphs with age. Not everything in their life is without fault, as the issue that threatens to cause a permanent rift in their decades-long relationship is by no means something to take lightly. Part of what gives that threat such power is the luxury of dormancy which has allowed for a perceived bliss to blossom over this marriage’s emotional scars. But a vital message that Zarhin bestows upon the audience is to recognize that scars do heal, but one must also choose to embrace family to begin that journey.
Rita — Liked It
Paz Vega arrives at the festival with her debut feature, Rita.From the movies I was able to catch, she is notably one of only a handful of directors to have a prominent starring role in their own film. And with this being her only screenwriting credit, it has all the telltale signs of an honest to god passion project. When taking into account the subject matter of the film, that just about confirms the gravity of its personal attachment to Vega. The movie follows a working class family in the city of Seville, Spain, notably through the perspectives of its put-upon matriarch Mari (Vega) and her seven-year-old daughter Rita (Sofía Allepuz). We come to meet Rita and her younger brother Lolo (Alejandro Escamilla) in the scorchingly hot summer of 1984. Like a lot of children of a young age, Rita and Lolo have vivid imaginations and hardly any responsibilities aside from brushing their teeth. They spend their days in the relative comfort of playing with friends or grasping at any adventure that may come to their attention. It’s an innocent time, where the pressures of life have yet to reach the forefront of their mind. Unbeknownst to them, the burgeoning seeds of that pressure are already here. As the film switches back and forth between the points of view of Rita and Mari, we see two sides of the root cause that begets such strife within the family in the form of Rita’s father José Manuel (Roberto Álamo). From the first moment José appears, the undercurrent of an overstressed and tempestuous husband is as clear as day. A loving father when the mood strikes, but also an abuser behind closed doors. Mari is more than aware of how far José’s behavior can go, but it’s Rita who must come to understand that for herself. That drop of the penny realization in a way comes after the film cuts to black, but the journey of seeing that progression through the eyes of a lively child is well worth recognizing as a weighty and valuable reflection of countless women’s lived experiences. A strong debut effort from Vega all told, as she certainly isn’t lacking in confidence both in front of and behind the camera.
Párvulos — Low Side of Liked It
Genre diversity at the festival casts a rather wide net. Comedic and dramatic fare do make up a substantial portion of the total curation, but there’s space for the bizarre or gnarly end of the genre spectrum should one seek it out. Párvulos is a film that firmly falls under the latter category, but it’s by no means simply a spectacle of blood and guts. The film follows an isolated trio of adolescent brothers in Salvador, Benjamin, and Oliver, who live in post-apocalypse Mexico as they attempt to reverse the disease which has infected their parents. While the term ”zombie” is never spoken aloud, this for all intents and purposes resembles your typical zombie flick. George A. Romero’s Day of the Dead especially comes to mind rather emphatically in terms of how the “dead” are used within the film. Having just recently seen that picture for the first time, Párvulos in comparison doesn’t carry over the same sense of chutzpah, but it does feel just as formative in the context of where it comes from. Mexican horror is a bit outside my purview of exposure when it comes to movie subgenres, but it’s in part because of an absence of history that I was able to have the freshest of viewing experiences with this movie. So much of director Isaac Ezban’s attention is focused on the thematic poignancy of familial struggle through the literalized end of the world that it’s easy to find an entry point into the story in caring about the situation these literal children are placed in.Prior to screening the film, Ezban even thanked and introduced family in attendance to the audience, which is something I hadn’t seen anyone else do at the festival. A touching gesture indeed, so much so that I’d go as far as to call Párvulos a cute movie in spite of all the killing. The naturally present shock factor does keep one’s attention glued to the screen in regards to the pure grotesqueness of violence, but even that encroaches on the plot in surprising ways. The film’s ending as a result feels quite soothing, in where we leave the family collectively. In comparison to the endings of other movies from this very piece, it’s downright celebratory. Perhaps that’s the Ezban’s optimism showing, but for as unrelenting as the film is, there’s also a touching tale as the center of coming to terms with demise of of your loved ones and having the will to move on
Who Do I Belong To — Low Side of Liked It
Four Daughters(directed by Kaouther Ben Hani) is a documentary I caught at last year’s festival. A truly devastating story and easily one of my favorite films of 2023. Upon seeing Who Do I Belong To at this year’s festival, I immediately harkened back to my memory of Four Daughters in part to the key similarities between both works. While I may not have been as emotionally stirred by the narrativization on display in Who Do I Belong To as I was with the form bending transparency of Hania’s showstopping documentary, the film is still effective in its current form, as director Meryam Joobeur makes quite a name for herself if this debut feature is anything to go by. Set in a desolate Tunisian village, the story follows Aicha (Salha Nasraoui), a grieving mother who seeks to learn the truth behind her son Mehdi’s (Malek Mechergui) sudden disappearance when he despondently returns home after defecting from ISIS, bringing with him a pregnant wife whose mysterious presence begins to affect people in the village. I’m no stranger to unilaterally bleak narratives, especially in the case of international films. With this movie, however, there is never a moment where it allows itself to let up from its harsh tone. It’s actually the biggest grievance I have that holds the film back. From an objective perspective, Joobeur makes good on the premise she set out to explore, pulling no punches in the process. A similar approach is used in Four Daughters, but it’s also offset by the intuitiveness of its own premise and immensely enriching depictions of humanity between its subjects. Under no circumstances is Joobeur’s direction void of humanity, but the film chooses to embrace a beleaguered pacing which exacerbates an already dreary synopsis with a claustrophobic energy too effective for my liking. While that may be my point of contention, the feeling of devastation which clouds over Aicha’s family in the wake of such grave actions can only reach these crushing lows because of that claustrophobia. The plight which plagues Aicha isn’t one that questions her instincts as a mother, but the risk of what could come to pass should the outside world learn of Mehdi’s return. And for as frayed as Mehdi’s conscience may be, his wife Reem (Dea Liane) serves as a reminder of what his choices have cost him in his decision to leave for something he could not fully comprehend. Terrifying the more you think about it.
Alpha — Liked It
In the aftermath of his mother’s passing, skiing instructor Rein (Reinout Scholten van Aschat) is forced to navigate a tense reunion with his domineering father Gijs (Gijs Scholten van Aschat) when Gijs visits Rein at his tranquil home in the Swiss Alps. It was not until doing research on this movie that I realized the father-son duo of Rein and Gjis were actually related on a familial level. That casting decision makes sense, considering how laser-focused writer/director Jan-Willem van Ewijk is in dissecting the dynamic between father and son under such specific circumstances. Out of all the films in this section, this picture grapples with the theme of family in a way that I find the most intriguing. Some films are more emotionally rousing or offer a timely commentary, but what separates Alpha from the pack is its level of ambiguity. While there’s hardly anything within the film that could be described as outwardly mysterious, the experience of actually watching Alpha constantly had me on shaky ground. Ewijk’s tenaciously penned script merits the credit for installing such an effect, but the vitality of the words is magnified exponentially when conveyed through Reinout and Gjis. For as relatively short a time is afforded to the viewer in getting to see the pair on screen in comparison to the lived history of the characters, there is no shortage of insight that can be gleaned from their frayed relationship. The main perspective the film offers is through the eyes of Rein, whose rage seeps through the screen in an increasingly tense yet subtle performance. This is the frame of vision we are allowed to have in assessing the contents of not just Gjis’ character, but his role as a father. Before long, the tension can only reach its boiling point, or more appropriately the point of absolute zero. Augmenting each man’s increasingly on edge is the phenomenal use of the movie’s setting. Beyond just the breathtaking unease of the skiing sequences which capture the brevity of the Alpine mountains, the land that Rein and Gjis stand upon is itself a timely symbol for the lasting trajectory of their relationship. Stunning and beautiful at its core, but nonetheless a cold, desolate place inevitably set for an avalanche.
To a Land Unknown — High Side of Liked It
To a Land Unknown is the second of two movies I saw that come from Palestine, the first of which being a previously touched upon film, Happy Holidays. While my thoughts on the latter were moderately positive, To a Land Unknown is one of the biggest highlights coming out of the festival, and not a movie I’m set to forget anytime soon. The family at the center of this story are a pair of immigrant cousins in Chatila (Mahmood Bakri) and Reda (Aram Sabbah) who hatch a scheme to escape their poverty-stricken state of limbo in Athens and start fresh in Germany. There are exceedingly few films to come out in a single year that fit a specific criteria that I would love to see more of. A picture like How to Blow Up a Pipeline isn’t afraid to embrace getting down in the muck and filth when telling its story. To me, that means not wavering away from the realities inherent to either the themes of its narrative or staying true to a set tone or ambiguously defined characters. Director Mahdi Fleifel’s To a Land Unknown is one of those few. In the film’s early moments, one quickly gains an understanding of the environment Chatila and Reda inhabit, and just how dire their situation is. Upon entering Greece as undocumented refugees, the stage is set for the kind of turmoil these cousins are bound to find themselves in. With little resources or options left in how to further their plan to establish a new life for the betterment of their own families back home, it’s up to them to find their own way to reach that next step. Surrounded by fellow refugees from a multitude of countries in the slums of Athens, the laws of the jungle simultaneously feel omnipresent as they do nonexistent. Pandemonium reigns in a way that begets the benefit of abandoning morality to get ahead. This is the state of mind that Chatila embraces, whereas Reda cannot fully. The exact “plan” for what they plan to do is every bit as risky for themselves as it is for those who surround the cousins, but when the reward is as high as the potential for freedom, that risk doesn’t just remain a thought in the back of one’s mind. It’s put into action, and the effect on the pair is exhilarating to watch. Aside from just a tense viewing experience, the acting on display is absolutely phenomenal. Both Bakri and Sabbah are nothing short of perfect in their roles. Each walks a fine line of differing emotions, from charismatic and remorseful to desperation and apathy. It’s a taxing watch all be told, the ending especially, but I wouldn’t ask for anything less than the full scope of Fleifel’s vision.
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