RushRhees

I wasn't really familiar with Lars Molin when I watched this movie. That is not a problem. Molin's movie is a very entertaining, a bit twisted little film about a 60-ish woman who suddenly seizes the opportunity to spend her life as she wants to. She moves away from her husband, a self-pitying drunk, and she has affairs with several men. But most of all, this is a film about unusual people, some of which have lost all hope in life, others who have just found their path. Stylistically, this is an interesting experience, too. There are a lot of sweet images of Swedish nature, and as if this is not enough Molin adds a layer of slightly sentimental music. If that was what the entire movie is all about, it would have ended up being an annoyingly romantic, rosy affair. But after these nature-celebratory images we are served scenes that display human relations in a very raw, unsentimental manner. "You are a f**** pompous head of s**t. I loved you as soon as I laid my eyes on you." is one memorable quote that rubs up against what would otherwise easily have become too sweet, too sentimental.

Night in China, a documentary by Ju An-Qi, was broadcast on Finnish television a few months ago. I must say, it's one of the better documentaries I've seen. The concept of the film may not seem very intriguing at first; the director has simply chosen to film some people at night, somewhere in China. But the result is nothing short of stunning. There is the couple living in a crammed apartment. He is a shoe-repairer, while she works in a Karaoke bar. They talk about day-to-day life. Getting by somehow. There is the woman who works in a place that takes care of cats. We see another woman talking about her job, cleaning two streets in the middle of the night. What caught my attention was not only the atmosphere of the film (for some reason I was thinking of Jarmusch and Night on Earth) but also the stories the people of the film were telling. They all appeared very real to me and the lack of a coherent "plot" connecting the different stories was, in my opinion, no problem at all

It's a shame that Tove Jansson is mostly associated with the Moomin characters she created. Not to say that these books and cartoons weren't great - they are. It's just that her other books, and her art, have remained quite off the radar. My sister has talked a lot about her and Tuulikki Pietilä's book "Anteckningar från en ö", published in 1996. I read the book, and was awestruck by it. In "Haru, yksinäisten saari", video clips filmed by Jansson & Pietilä are accompanied by Birgitta Ulfsson's reading of some of the texts in the book. Ulfsson's humorous delivery (in Finnish, for some reason, or are there two copies?) fits the material since it brings out its warmth and no-nonsense perception of life in the archipelago. Jansson & Pietilä spent many summers in the archipelago, on an island inhabited by nobody else.

Tove Jansson writes about their day-to-day life on a secluded island. She talks about the surroundings, but there's no hint of pastoral sentimentalism. Her observations are dry, and very evocative. But it is the pictures, the clips, that truly make the text come alive. The transformations of nature; wind, sunshine, rain, but also their daily activities. Fishing, resting, boat trips - dancing.

When I read the book, my immediate reaction was that this is one of the most moving accounts of love I've ever come across in my life. That impression stuck with me when watching the film - watching how one of the women films the other. Watching their faces, usually smiling, cracking up into a hearty, beaming smile.

RinneRadio, a Finnish jazz/electronica band, performs most of the music. A good choice of music, if you ask me. The only thing that puzzled me - amused me! - was the use of Scott McKenzie's "San Franscisco" in combination with pictures of one of the women's joyous dancing movements. It's a long way from Frisco to Pellinge. But maybe that's the point.

I also want to recommend the documentary about Pietilä's and Jansson's travels together.

Mr Vig is an elderly Danish gentleman who sets out to donate his "castle" to the Russian Orthodox Church. An entourage of nuns arrive in the Danish outbacks to inspect the house and the negotiations begin. Mr Vig is a strong-minded man, but so are the nuns.

Calling this a "human interest" film may be quite all right, but, that said, it doesn't lack substance. Even though many scenes are devoted to Mr Vig's idiosyncrasies, the film, for me, didn't leave my mind immediately after having finished it. It is a film that by focusing on the nuns' pragmatic outlook on moving to Vig's castle, by portraying the nuns as knowledgeable and persistent, throw a much more down-to-earth light on religion and religious life than what is customary in many films and documentary (religious people as world-weary ascetics).

Some scenes are stranger than words can tell. In one scene, Sister Ambrosija is seen hunched down in prayer, chanting solemnly. Then her cell phone suddenly rings, and the ring tone is "I wish you a merry Christmas". She barks: "YES??" Cut!

The name of this documentary - Piter - refers to the city of St Petersburg. If my memory does not deceive me, one of the persons in the film tells a story of how she has never grown accustomed to the change of names - for her, Petersburg is still Leningrad.

The film consists of interviews with people living in Petersburg, young and old. Some of these clips are very funny - such as the clip when we see a woman/man (it is left unclear, I think) collecting cans. A woman turns to the camera, angrily asking whether the crew has permission to film. She then says that the crew shouldn't be filming the can collector - s/he doesn't give a good impression of "Russians", and, she goes on, growling to the can collector, "at least you could make an effort and comb your hair!" (The can collector is the person of whom I got the most sympathetic and complex picture) In a way, this confrontation sums up the themes of the film - "Russia today - what is it like?" Of course, this is an important question, and at least for me the film was a fortunate attempt to collect some perspectives on Russia, Petersburg - past and present.

My city is blessed with a film festival for GLBT-movies. Each year, I complain about the festival being taken over and hijacked by silly romantic comedies, the plot of which are only too easy to predict. On the other hand, I have always been pleasantly surprised by the high standard of the documentaries shown at the festival. Last year, due to favorable circumstances, I shuffled off to watch KATZENBALL, a documentary about the history of lesbianism in Swizerland. I was immediately enthralled by the film, in which a group of lesbians talked about their lives. The stories were packed with humor, experience and I would also go as far as to talk about wisdom. Sometimes, I feel that I really learn something from films, where "learning" is not about learning about historical facts or other types of facts - I have a deeper sense of "learning" in mind. The way that we learn things about life by talking and living with others, the way the perspectives of others may enrich our lives. KATZENBALL, for me, disclosed a form of joy of living.

Stylistically, STORY evolves around pictures in which we see Story Musgrave in two different settings - in a stripped-down room and in the woods. Most of the pictures in the film focus on his face. One reason why this approach is so successful is that it manages to evoke the claustrophobia, the limited space, of a space shuttle. Another reason is that the film lets us focus entirely on the way Musgrave tells his story - his intonation, his facial expressions.

There is a certain sense of poetry in Musgrave's serene way of telling his story. The subject matter, the way the story is told, is, however, concrete in nature. Musgrave reflects on how he learned to adapt to the kind of surrounding a space shuttle is, how his body reacted to it, and what it felt like, physically, to return to earth. He tries to find words for describing the blackness of space. In the end of the documentary, he talks about his childhood, his relation to his former wife and the importance of nature.

When I started to watch the documentary, I wondered whether the subject matter would interest me. The film, however, proved to be so much more.

I watched this documentary yesterday and was pleasantly surprised, watching it with no prior expectations. The theme of the movie - stalking, unrequited love, obsession - held the movie together. Two voices shed light on the subject from different angles, creating two different narratives.

The pictures in the films worked well in dialog with the spoken parts, building on a somehow very down-to-earth way of filming, focusing on details which often pass us by unnoticed. This is of course also fitting for the subject of stalking; the obsession that brings out details about someone's life that would otherwise seem uninteresting or details simply invisible to most of us.

The documentary takes the form of an "essay", a quiet reflection, rather than being a documentary attempting to depict the theme from a sociological or a psychological point of view. All in all, this film was a delight to watch.

Lawrence of Arabia is a film that takes its characters seriously. Instead of creating stable characters performing different functions during the film, David Lean has succeeded in telling a story about a complex world, with complex people dwelling in it.

The protagonist, Lawrence, is a man who is forever oscillating between self-doubt and hubris. He wants to create a place in the world for himself. We see his wish for becoming accepted as an equal amongst the Bedouin people. In being a great warrior, leading the Bedouin to Aqba and Damascus, he seems to have been successful. But things are not so easy. He comes to have doubts about his identity, and his project of 'becoming an Arab'. He wants to change, but there are many questions to be asked. How is it possible to change? Is he not naive in trying to get the people around him to accept him as a full-worthy member of the group?

The film reveals the dark sides of self-scrutiny and deception. Lawrence remains a very human paradox; he can be said to be both very conscious about himself, and still he somehow seems to deceive himself in striving mostly for Honor and acceptance (in opposition to e.g. friendship and love). In an magnificent way, we get to see how friendship and love between men are destroyed by the blind (but conscious) desire for Honor and position. Shall we say that Lawrence was corrupted? Or shall we say that he finally realized something about himself? I don't know.

Lawrence of Arabia tells a story about the fragility of love and friendship. This is a story that opens many interesting perspectives on person-hood, identity and morality. What makes this film a masterpiece, is that it forces the viewer to think for herself. (In this case, the cliché can be uttered without embarrassment.

HABLE CON ELLA might be very pleasant to watch. Indeed, it is. But that is also why it leaves me quite uncertain as to what Almodovar actually wants to say with his film. On the surface, the film builds up a somewhat polished and low-key atmosphere. The soundtrack provides soothing, warm music. All in all, the formate corresponds largely to what is expected of 'artistic European film of today'. I find, however, the aesthetic impression more confusing than attracting. Why? Because there is a great discrepancy between the plot of the film and the atmosphere it creates. Two men become friends after it becomes clear that both of them have a comatosed object of romantic feelings. The viewer gets to see how they develop quite different attitude towards the comatosed 'lover'. One of them, Benigno, dedicates himself fully to the comatosed woman, who he doesn't actually know. (And it is difficult to see what he feels for her at all) Without revealing too much about the story, it is clear that the focusing on the two men is highly problematic. The two women, both in coma, remain mere objects; the two men admires them only as objects of phantasy. Naturally, it would be grotesque to call this admiration (or whatever) love. Here Almodovar clearly falls prey to romanticizing a conventional picture of Woman as Object for Love.

Perhaps the viewer is not encouraged to condone to the horrible deeds performed by one of the men. In fact, the viewer is not encouraged to take a stand at all. One gets easily sucked in by the fine pictures and the charming music, perhaps reacting with both slight sympathy (well, isn't it great what kind of feelings Man is capable of??) and a vague sense of uneasiness with the turn the plot finally takes. My objection: the film leaves room for too great a variation of reactions - it is vague. Why is that so bad? Well, because the deeds that are performed, and the attitude shown by the men towards the two women, are such that vagueness can't be anything but a misplaced, corrupt perspective. The viewer is tempted to sympathize with things that one can sympathize with only if one doesn't see their real meaning, their seriousness.

In sum, instead of making a serious film, Almodovar seems to aim at creating two pleasant hours for his audience.