by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
When you see as many movies as I was able to see at this most recent Chicago International Film Festival, there is no one type of film that can embody the scope for all the different kinds of stories being told. There can be drama, and there can be comedy, but the primary descriptor for the films at the center of this piece can just be categorized as plain odd. In their own calculated way, each film is ingrained with an unmistakable feeling that is meant to highlight its own eccentricity and distinctive style of filmmaking that for better or worse (mostly better), achieves what it sets out to do, and that’s exist as a truly pure form of cinema
Vulcanizadora — Liked It
From the perspective of someone who was not at all aware of the work of filmmaker Joel Potrykus prior to watching Vulcanizadora, I can’t stress how rewarding it feels to discover yet another new corner of the current moviemaking landscape with this kind of propensity for independent cinema. And yet, it was clear to anyone who got to hear from Potrykus after the screening that he and his tight-knit crew of collaborators are not the type to adhere to the overly sincere or austere side of filmmaking. Their tempo falls much more in line with the taboo and the vivacious end of the spectrum. As far as the film in question is concerned, on the surface, it does seem like a movie of disparate halves. Though that isn’t an inaccurate assessment, the two halves congeal in service of fulfilling a greater vision of how one deals (or struggles in attempts to do so) with the consequences of their actions brought on by their own beliefs or uncertainties over place in the world. The film follows longtime friends Derek (Joel Potrykus) and Martin (Joshua Burge) as they make the trip through the forests of rural Michigan with the intent on following through on a dangerous plan, until one must contend with conflicted emotions at home when their pact goes awry. The film beams with personality and humor in its first half, primarily due to the gleeful simpatico duo of Derek and Martin. While this section may seem to stretch on for a bit longer than is expected, the followthrough is thoroughly enriching because of it. The initially dry comedic appetizer is not wholly wiped away, but injected with the solemn intensity found in the city of Grand Rapids. From there, the picture is left in a sort of stasis as it follows its remaining main characters’ own tumultuous headspace up to the movie’s lasting conclusion. Said conclusion, might I add, was sure to be one of the best of the entire festival.
Peacock — High Side of Liked It
Some of my favorite comedies over the last few years have notably come from foreign countries which operate outside of the American studio system. There are a few factors which come to mind as to why that’s become a recurring trend, but the dominant one largely can be boiled down to the stark changes that come with the culture. Countries like Denmark or South Korea just have a way of approaching their material in a more freewheeling and eccentric manner than in the States. In the case of a movie like Peacock and its home country of Austria, the evidence is clear for all to see, in more ways than one. After Matthias (Albrecht Schuch) goes through a sudden breakup with his longtime girlfriend, in part due to his job at a rent-a-friend agency, his life begins to take a turn for the worse, as he struggles to make sense of how his life has been affected by his work. While decidedly a notch or two below a comedic masterpiece from 2024 in Hundreds of Beavers, the number of visual gags which transfer over from one scene to the next is at its absolute maximum. The opening and final scenes of the picture do well in capturing tone and solidifying theme respectively, but it is the bulk of its middle that fills one with the highest degree of laughter. Schuch is especially deserving of praise, as it’s in his expressive physicality and puppy-like sensitivity that he’s able to hold firm as the glue keep these vignette-adjacent scenes together to form a proper narrative. Conversely, the story itself doesn’t just exist to justify its comedic ambition. The narrative does actually stand up in its own right as an honestly told journey of Matthias’ psyche. On top of a broader observation of the nature of performance art, the questions that Matthias must ask himself is, what does it mean to form human connections, and at what point did he begin to lose what made him… him?
The Other Way Around — Liked It
In terms of sheer form-bending works that utilize the medium of film itself as a device to drive the story in ways unforeseen, The Other Way Around takes the cake in much the same way Víctor Iriarte’s Foremost by Night did at last year’s festival. That film had an authorial approach that felt completely detached from what I’d personally been accustomed to in the space of contemporary filmmaking, thanks to its uninhibited construction and execution of an ambitious attempt at genre shifting. The Other Way Around accomplishes a redolent end, albeit with a vastly different technique of in-universe scene recreation through the added layer of a film production. The story follows the end of a years-long relationship between Ale (Itsaso Arana) and Álex (Vito Sanz), who, in an attempt to forgo a traditional splitting-up process, decide to throw a party to commemorate their breakup. On one level, that synopsis is rife for providing the viewer with many discomfortingly awkward moments emanating directly from the oddity of such an idea. Given this movie is roughly equal halves romantic and cringe comedy, it’s able to balance the two subgenres quite seamlessly, as it establishes a firm sense of tone that oozes self-assurance. Those qualities alone would make for a perfectly enjoyable movie, as well as a worthy counterpart to fellow festival offering, The Room Next Door, as both are heightened comedies from Spanish filmmakers. Add on top of that the creative finesse at the helm of its artisanal conception, and you have something very interesting yet also unfocused at times. Ale and Álex are not lost for a reason why they have decided to mutually part, but the film sort of leaves that beat unexplored, as it’s only so interested in dissecting a faltered partnership. We move past what could be a very traditional form of story conflict in favor of an exploration of the relationship between the events that take place in our lives, and the media we choose to create and/or surround ourselves with. This is the thematic sandbox director Jonás Trueba and co-writers Sanz and Arana are interested in playing in, and it shows. Perhaps they don’t fully explore this concept to the fullest extent, as there isn’t much space for answers in terms of giving the audience a decisive takeaway in relation to the questions it asks. Despite this, The Other Way Around is still an off-the-wall testament for what art can provide to our lives, and, in turn, how media is influenced by our struggles.
The Sparrow in the Chimney — High Side of Didn’t Like It
As an introduction to the work of Swiss filmmaker Ramon Zürcher, it was admittedly not the most optimal of circumstances to start with the third film in a self-described trilogy of thematically linked films. Having some solid footing with Zürcher’s previous efforts would likely have been a means of circumventing the unpalatable elements that don’t equate to the most conducive of screenings. Said picture, The Sparrow in the Chimney, is about a poisonous reunion of family members who settle into old habits as the stress of being surrounded by one another creates a hostile and unkempt environment that expresses itself with increasing unclarity. Perhaps one of the more impenetrable films to come from the festival, The Sparrow in the Chimney goes all in on embracing the discomfort that comes with a family when it is as tinged with toxicity as this one is. The most fervent of which comes to be Karen (Maren Eggert), matriarch of her family and sister to Julie (Britta Hammelstein). We see the incendiary relationship between the two boil over in ways that seem all but inevitable, affecting every other person who enters the home housing their reunion. Reasoning and backstory are never made out to be points of focus for the viewer. Instead, it is the ambiance of pure sensory overload which takes command. With increasingly radiant seeking visualizations of excess light and blaring music that are meant to be built towards as an experience forward first viewing, the mileage for such an approach may vary from person to person. I could never really arrive at the point where the characters or their relations to one another could mix with the film’s avant-garde ambitions, but an ambitious a picture it most certainly is.
Misericordia — Liked It
A movie like Misericordia could perhaps fit the designation of being the most accessible movie out of this list. On paper, writer/director Alain Guiraudie presents a moody character study riddled with mystery. That descriptor is accurate to what the picture is at the end of the day. A few layers beyond that, however, the movie mutates in ways that I struggle to really delve into. The main reason for that stems from some very specific moments when the plot will all but swerve directly into tonal dissonance, albeit without any confounding side effects. The label of the thriller genre remains an all-encompassing umbrella which Misericordia does sit under, but trust me when I say the film crosses that line in the execution of its story to where tension will exit as comedy will enter and become the center. The particulars need not be discussed for the sake of an introductory viewing experience — just know that humor sings just as loud as any other comedy from the festival. To expand on the actual narrative, the film tells the story of Jérémie Pastor (Félix Kysyl), who returns to his hometown of Saint-Martial in the south of France to attend the funeral of an old colleague. As his visit extends into a tenured stay, old acquaintances begin to question his true motivations for doing so, eventually leading to an act of violence. This immediately intrigued me, not only for all its implied danger, but the potential for what to expect from this story knowing it will touch on inherently queer themes. Guiraudie doesn’t go out of his way to make the picture feel like a titular example of queer cinema, such is the case with a work like 2023’s Femme, which is an intrinsically queer story. Misericordia isn’t disinterested in that prospect; it just has its focus aimed on following Jérémie on his journey. The longer we sit with him as he lies and schemes his way through his excursion, the more we come to grasp a hold of the ideas at play, namely the desire for reclamation and the risk that comes with holding onto those desires.
Mistress Dispeller — Liked It
There have been exceedingly few documentaries which have had me questioning how much of what is shown is completely unscripted. Mistress Dispeller unabashedly slides into that exclusive category. The film follows the various perspectives of a singular case that is being handled by professional mistress dispeller, Wang Zhenxi, as she is tasked with breaking up marital affairs in China. When it comes to other fiction-based films that emanate from countries outside the U.S., the culture of said country is a factor that often greatly affects the outcome of the plot or character motivation. The setting shapes every aspect of this movie enormously in ways I couldn’t have possibly anticipated. The profession of mistress dispelling is a relatively new one with little regulation. The film itself can further attest to the strangeness of its own premise, but it’s not just a bizarre case of cultural barriers differing from our own. There is such an unforeseen intimacy and almost romantic overture to how director Elizabeth Lo films her subjects. Each of the roles that are inhabited by the film’s main trio of scorned wife, adulterous husband, and longing mistress are treated with genuine honesty and a lack of judgment. Under those circumstances, the potential for eliciting empathy from the viewer is rather substantial. In her own dissection of the years-long production behind Mistress Dispeller, I grew even more appreciative of the commitment needed to tell this story about the shame, pride, and loneliness that is so prevalent in modern day relationships native to China. This film will not receive a rollout of any kind in China directly because of the level of sensitivity tied to the discussion of inter-marital norms in eastern society, which tells so much about the value placed on these subjects, not only as human beings, but the emotions so powerful that broaching them at home would mean forever donning a mask of interminable ire.
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