Category Archives: Cinema

#ArtsFriday | Passing | Searing, Heartbreaking, Tragic Cinema | #Netflix

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Début film by Rebecca Hall (left), Passing, stars Tessa Thompson (centre) & Ruth Negga

A complex examination of race and sexuality set against the backdrop of a 1920s-era Harlem Renaissance that celebrated Black novelist Nella Larsen captured in her seminal 1929 novel, Passing, marks British actress Rebecca Hall’s assured feature directorial début — a certain 2022 Oscar contender, having taken New York by storm last month at their annual New York Film Festival, and already up for a passel of Gotham Awards — will be available on the Netflix streaming service this coming Wednesday, November 10th. “We’re all of us passing for something or other, aren’t we?” muses Tessa Thompson’s melancholy character, Irene Redfield.

Ms. Hall’s choice of material for her début as writer-director is elevated by her evident personal investment in the story, having learned years ago that her American maternal grandfather was Black passing as white for most of his life. That intense personal connection pervades every lovingly composed shot of a work that takes a subtle, unwavering approach to the film’s subject matter, that resonates at a moment Black Lives Matter has exposed the simmering racial divides within society.

The story takes place in 1929, as Harlem resident Irene (Thompson) carefully navigates her way through a sweltering New York City summer day, tucking her face inside her hat so as to all the better, well, maybe not hide exactly, but at least obscure her face so that her black skin isn’t as evident to the privileged white locals surrounding her. Feeling self-conscious about being out of place, she’s shocked to run into Clare (Negga), a school friend with whom she had lost contact, now married to a wealthy (and avowedly racist) white man, John (Alexander Skarsgård), who has no idea that his wife is black. Clare “passes” for white, allowing her entree into an upper-crust American society that contemptuously shuns people of colour.

Inviting Irene up to her hotel room, upon returning to her home, there’s a marked visual switch from Clare and John’s suite, an airy space drenched in white light, to the more textured look inside the Harlem brownstone where Irene lives with her doctor husband Brian (André Holland) and their two boys. The action flashes forward to the autumn, when a letter from Clare, postmarked New York, indicates she has moved back to the city as she had hoped. Irene is hesitant to open it, but Brian is more curious, arching his eyebrows at Clare’s florid description of “this pale life of mine,” as she gently chides Renie for exposing her “wild desire” for another life.

Shot in luminous black-and-white by cinematographer Eduard Grau (a choice that, given the material, might sound gimmicky, and is not), Ms. Hall also opted for a boxed-in 4:3 aspect ratio, all the better to heighten the film’s constant tension and the sense that its piercingly sad characters can’t escape the confines of their lives.

From the very first frame, Passing grabs your attention with its striking aesthetics. Most notably, as mentioned above, the desaturated black-and-white cinematography and 4:3 aspect ratio that recalls both vintage photography and classic cinema. The period-appropriate costumes and production design — stylishly rendered by the production designer Nora Mendism, and the costume designer Marci Rodgers — gives a strong sense of a time and place when flappers lived their best life. To add an elegant finishing touch, the intermittent piano refrain of Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou’s Homeless Wanderer, and the gorgeous score composed by Black composer Devonté Hynes, provides a further nostalgic nod to the Jazz Age.

Passing tingles through the vulnerability of Irene and Clare’s smallest gestures and experiences, delicately conveyed by Thompson and Negga and magnified by Eduard Grau’s judicious close-ups. A tear rolling down a cheek. The slight bow of a hatted head in the presence of a white man. A stolen glance of desire. Under the genteel mask these women show to the world lies a roiling unease about their true desires, their obvious and barely hidden secrets, and their place in the world.

And it’s through this discomfort that Passing transcends its mannered trappings to resonate with us as a poignant and powerful exploration of the human condition.

#Netflix | Oscar Fare Rolling Out in November

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Although Red Notice is the blockbuster film Netflix is bringing to the streamer on Friday, November 12th — starring a Hollywood A-list cast that includes Dwayne Johnson, Gal Gadot and Ryan Reynolds —  it is the “smaller films” that will prove to be the celebrated Gotham, Indie Spirit, Oscar and critics’ awards fodder come December and into 2022, when early in the morning of Tuesday, February 8th, the 2022 Oscar nominations will be announced.

As we all return to some semblance of “normal” —  whatever that means these days? —  now that British Columbia’s Public Health Officer, Dr. Bonnie Henry, has lifted all indoor capacity limitations in movie theatres, arenas and elsewhere, in communities where full vaccination rates are on track to hit 90% or better at some point in November, and COVID infection rates are low, we can all look forward to a surfeit of serious-minded film fare to help us celebrate the coming holiday season.

On Friday, November 5th, VanRamblings will publish our full review of Passing —  already nominated for a raft of east coast film critic, ‘indie’ Gotham Awards, including Best Director, her first-time in that role, and a simply outstanding outing for British actress, Rebecca Hall, garnering, as well, a Best Screenplay nomination for her adaptation of Nella Larsen’s 1920s novel; Tessa Thompson, for Outstanding Lead Performance (take our word for it, Ms. Thompson’s performance is more than well-deserving of all the accolades she will receive in the weeks and months to come); and the always luminous Ruth Negga (Loving), for Outstanding Supporting Performance, much-deserved recognition for her breathtakingly fine work here.

A complex examination of race and sexuality set against the backdrop of the same ’20s-era Harlem that Larsen was so keen to be part of, Passing will be available on the Netflix streaming service come Wednesday, November 10th.

Not to be missed!

VIFF 2021 | Vancouver’s Beloved International Film Festival Wraps for 2021

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The 40th annual Vancouver International Film Festival wraps at 11:59pm this Thanksgiving Monday evening — and that will be it for another Festival year, although what is now termed the VanCentre Complex (3 theatres now available in the complex that used to house just the glorious Vancity Theatre — which remains, just in case you thought that wasn’t the case) — with VIFF Connect a year-around fixture for this next year, and probably long after that into the many years to come.

On Sunday, VIFF presented two screenings of Céline Sciamma’s exquisite Petite Maman, Sciamma’s beautiful fairytale reverie, at the welcoming Vancouver Playhouse — occasioned by the dual mysteries of memory and the future — the film emerging as a resonant, profoundly moving and elegantly made small scale, but wildly effective opus for the 39-year-old French filmmaker, the dappled forested backdrop a thing of pensive beauty, the coming-of-age story at the centre of the film an example of the way cinema can make memories real, without losing their bitter honesty, and dreams, without compromising on their glowing promise.

Without a doubt, Céline Sciamma is the finest director working today, anywhere across the globe, her body of work — Tomboy (2011), Girlhood (2014), Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), and now Petite Maman — unrivaled in the pantheon of modern cinema, each film profoundly moving and filled with heart, must-sees for any cinephile worth their salt, simply the finest examples of what cinema, in the right hands, can achieve in moving all of us forward towards a better, fairer world.

Here’s what Barry Hertz, arts & entertainment editor at The Globe and Mail had to say about Petite Maman, when it screened at the Toronto International Film Festival last month …

Well, this is an unexpected and wonderful surprise. Two years ago, French director Céline Sciamma knocked TIFF audiences out with her powerful and grand romance Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Switching gears, the filmmaker goes small, in all the right ways, for her pandemic-shot follow-up, Petite Maman.

A lovely, delicate look at the bridge between parents and their children, the film follows one lonely little girl who, while visiting her grandmother’s old country home, encounters a version of her mother as a young girl at the same exact age, through some unexplained feat of magical realism.

Featuring wonderful performances from twin sisters Joséphine and Gabrielle Sanz, and also the cutest little murder-mystery game you’ve ever seen, Petite Maman hits all the right notes, creating an epic in miniature. One warning: It may leave you a blubbering mess.

There is one final VIFF screening of Petite Maman— as always, click on the preceding link to be taken to the VIFF web page to book your ticket — scheduled for this evening at 8:30pm on this Thanksgiving Monday, at the Kay Meek Arts Centre, located at 1700 Mathers Avenue in West Vancouver, easily accessible by both car or bus (there’s a bus stop just outside of the arts complex). Highly recommended.

VIFF 2021 | Worshipping at the Church of Cinema

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Imagine yourself on this autumn Sunday afternoon during the glorious 40th annual Vancouver International Film Festival. You’ve just walked into The Vancouver Playhouse, where after showing your vaccine card, a piece of picture I.D., and having your ticket scanned — as a PDF on your smartphone (photos of the PDF won’t do), or in hard copy — and having been welcomed by one of the hard working VIFF volunteers, are then ushered into a darkened room with seats all facing forward.

You feel reverent.

You are about to worship at the ‘church of cinema‘.

One hundred years on, cinema has arrived as a form of transcendence, for many replacing the once venerated position held by the church. Think about the similarities: churches and the cinema are both large buildings built in the public space. Both have signage out front indicating what is about to occur inside.

As physical structures, both the church and the independent or multiplex cinema create a sense of sacred space, with their high ceilings, long aisles running the length of the darkened rooms, the use of dim lighting, the sweeping curvature of the walls, and the use of curtains to enhance the sacredness of the experience.

In the church of cinema we take communion not with bread and wine, but with the ritualistic consumption of our favourite snack and beverage.

Consider if you will, the memorable moment when you enter the auditorium to find your perfect viewing angle, allowing you to sit back, relax and enjoy (albeit in 2021, with your mask on). Although you may not receive absolution at the cinema, there is the two-hour reprieve from the burden & peregrinations of your daily life.

As the lights are dimmed, the service begins: The seating, and the opening introduction constitute a liturgy for one and all, not dissimilar to the welcoming ritual that occurs in a church service prior to the sermon.

If you are like most people, you obey an unwritten rule that requires you to be in place in time for either the singing (if you’re in church) or the rapturuous introduction of a film by a Vancouver International Film Festival theatre manager. And, you remain silent while in the theatre, focused on all that is unfolding before you.

There is, too, the notion that as the film limns your unconscious mind you are being transported, elevated in some meaningful way, left in awe in the presence of a transporting and ever-so-moving work of film art that is screening before you.

What we want from church is often, these days, more of what we receive from the cinema on offer at the Vancouver International Film Festival: the vague, unshakable notion that the eternal and invisible world is all around us, transporting us as we sit in rapt attention. We experience the progress and acceleration of time, as we see life begin, progress, and find redemption. All within two hours. The films at the Vancouver International Film Festival constitute much more than entertainment; each film is a thoughtful meditation on our place in society and our purpose in life.

As a VIFF film draws to a close, just as is the case following a sermon we might hear in church, our desire is to set about to discuss with friends that which we have just experienced. Phrases and moments, transcending current frustrations with a new resolve, all in response to a line of dialogue, an image on the screen or a friend’s comment we have now incorporated into how we will lead our life going forward.

In the holy trinity of meaning, cinema reigns supreme, the personal altar of our home theatres a distant second — although increasingly important in the era of the pandemic — the city providing the physical proof of the reality the other two point to, oriented towards the satisfaction of the devout cinemagoer’s theology.

Throughout the centuries we have sought to find meaning through manifest ritual and symbolism. If, as in the scene from American Beauty, a plastic bag sailing in the breeze is an intimation of immortality then there is, perhaps, something for us to consider respecting the difference between art as diversion and art in our lives as a symbolic representation of an awakened mindfulness, allowing us to not just transcend the conditions of our troubles lives, but change our lives for the better.

For those who have attended the Vancouver International Film Festival over the past 40 years, moving, independent world cinema from all across the globe has emerged as that place where we might experience life in the form of parable, within a safe and welcoming environment, that place where we are able to become vulnerable and open, hungry to make sense of our daily, protean lives.

Cinema, whether it be at VIFF or in the cineplex, delivers for many of us access to the new spiritualism, the place where we experience not merely film, but language, memory, art, love, death and, perhaps even, spiritual transcendence.