THE CATS OF MIRIKITANI : [6/10]
USA 2006 : Linda HATTENDORF : 74m : seen 20/1 at Fokus (public show)
   A Manhattan-based documentarian discovers a ripe subject almost literally on her own doorstep - and then even closer to home - in The Cats of Mirikitani, an impeccably well-intentioned work of charitable humanism which packs a large (perhaps even excessive) amount of inspirational uplift into its seventy-odd minutes.
   The film begins in the summer of 2001 when Linda Hattendorf first gets to know Tsutumo - 'Jimmy' - Mirikitani as a colourful fixture in the small park near her apartment. Seemingly homeless, the proud, octogenarian, American-born, Japanese-raised gent spends most of his daylight hours painting scenes from his eventful life, plus some cutely exotic images of cats.
   Though intrigued by his artworks and his tales of wartime internment, it's only in the aftermath of September 11th ("our neighborhood was covered in a toxic cloud") that Hattendorf invites the hapless Mirikitani into her 'compact' flat. The self-proclaimed "grand master artist" quickly makes himself at home on Hattendorf's floor, which puts the film-maker in a slightly awkward position: she can't exactly chuck the stooped, aged (though wirily resilient) chap back out onto the street, but their grandfather/granddaughter-like 'co-habitation' is hardly a long-term option either, especially when he starts ticking her off about coming home late.
   All of this is intimately recorded via Hattendorf's camera - likewise her attempts to find Jimmy a place of his own, to track down his surviving relatives, and to bring his story to the wider attention she feels it deserves. Needless to say, the story ends happily - more happily than even we expect - with Jimmy visibly rejuvenated by his contact with Linda and able, with her assistance, to revisit the scenes of his unjust wartime treatment at the hands of what he calls the "goddamn Americans."
   It's a remarkable story, and provides a valuable lesson that the aged, homeless and destitute can, under the right circumstances and with the right kind of love and help, blossom and make a strong contribution to society. There's no knocking what Linda does for Jimmy here - although the story might have arguably been more appropriately told by a detached 'third party.' Then again, part of the point of the film is the unusual situation which develops between documentarian and subject: no 'distanced' observation here, rather a case of both individuals concerned benefiting greatly from the very fact of the film being made.
   On a wider level, however, The Cats of Mirikitani could be interpreted as suggesting that the solution to the problem of homelessness - particularly serious in New York - lies with individual charitable intervention rather than local or national policy. Jimmy makes a point of asserting that he "never touches social security," perhaps a consequence of the grievances he harbours against the "stupid American government" - but the USA depicted here is one in evident need of a much stronger social welfare system. Rather than address such issues, Hattendorf shifts her focus to different political issues raised by Jimmy's particular historical circumstances: the parallels between the wartime internment camps and the post-9/11 incarceration of "enemy combatants" at Guantanamo Bay; the fate of his home town, Hiroshima; and the matter of how Japanese-Americans were disgracefully coerced into renouncing their citizenship. 
   These are strong, complex, painful subjects - and deserving of a little more time and analysis than they receive here. The Cats of Mirikitani (a naggingly strange and bland choice of title, as the cats aren't mentioned or shown very much) could perhaps have been profitably expanded to 90 minutes or more, as what we end up with is a rather crowded canvas that awkwardly tries to cram in too many different ideas and themes (there are some key moments and meetings during the end credits which really deserve whole sequences to themselves.) 
   And whereas Mirikitani's paintings are strikingly bold and refreshingly original in their fusion of eastern and western influences, Hattendorf's film-making style represents a familiar, ultra-conventional small-screen approach: plangent guitars on the syrupily intrusive soundtrack, copious solemn/reverential/exposition-heavy voice-over, functional-at-best visuals. Her most questionable decision is, however, to subtitle all of Mirikitani's dialogue even though he speaks English throughout. His accent is often very strong, but not to the extent that his comments are indecipherable to the attentive viewer. Hattendorf thus emphasises his 'alien-ness' and difference - which runs directly counter to the film's heartwarmingly inclusive atmosphere of optimistic generosity and outreach.

NOT HERE TO BE LOVED : [7/10]
Je ne suis pas la pour etre aime
France 2005 : Stephane BRIZE : 93m : 21/1 at Fokus (public show)
   Still waters run persuasively deep in Not Here To Be Loved, a startlingly dry - and ineffably "French" - comedy/romance in which almost every word, gesture and shot is expertly weighted for maximum effect. The story of an unlikely relationship which blossoms between divorced, Prufrock-ish, 50-year-old bailiff Jean-Claude (suitably hangdog Patrick Chesnais) and Francoise (spirited Anne Consigny), the significantly younger woman he meets at a tango class - despite the latter's impending marriage to pudgy would-be novelist Thierry (Lionel Abelanski) - may be, if anything, a little too restrained, slow-burning and subtle for some. Patient (older?) viewers, however, will find many rewards in this deliciously poised, impeccably-observed fable of lonely lives redeemed by the possibility of a second chance.
   Though unremarkable to look at, notably light on dialogue (the script can't have been more than a couple of dozen pages long) and ploughing seemingly over-familiar terrain (workplace discontents; perils of loneliness; middle-aged dissatisfactions; oppressive bourgeois ennui; family strife), Not Here to Be Loved gradually establishes a distinctive character of its own. This is one of those rare films where very little seems to be going on while you're actually watching it, but as soon as its over you realise the extent of its skill and accomplishment. Hats off to Brize, his co-writer Juliette Sales and their excellent ensemble of actors: the film is conspicuously well-cast down to the smallest of roles, with veteran Georges Wilson (father of Lambert!) a particular misanthropic delight as Jean-Claude's infuriatingly crotchety, Monopoly-obsessed papa. Not Here To Be Loved is about as glum as a picture can be and still be considered a comedy - which is, in the end, all part of its delicately-judged charm.

CHRONICLE OF AN ESCAPE : [4/10] aka Buenos Aires 1977
Cronica de una fuga
Argentina 2006 : Israel ADRIAN Caetano : 100m : 21/1 at Fokus (public show)
A particularly painful period of recent Argentinian history is dramatised in disappointingly clunky fashion by Uruguayan writer-director Israel Caetano in Chronicle of an Escape, freely adapted ("version libre") from the testimony of two of the surviving participants. Admirers of Israel Caetano's promising, small-scaled 2002 feature Red Bear will be hoping that he regains his footing on his next project.
   On this occasion, however, he shows classic signs of over-reach: the task doing justice to the many victims of Argentina's military junta - which swept to power in 1976 and caused the "disappearance" of thousands until their 1983 overthrow - places great responsibiluty upon anyone tackling the story. An avoidance of sensationalism is crucial - and Chronicle of an Escape is often guilty of overcooking an already heady stew via its intrusive score, distorted visuals and the cartoonishly simplistic depiction of its giggling, bestial villains ("the FBI started in a house like this," one of them approvingly remarks... booo!! hiss!!!)
   The focus is squarely on genial, happily apolitical Claudio (Rodrigo de la Serna), a professional goalkeeper who is picked up one day by government forces after being (wrongly) fingered as a terrorist. This leads to a months-long ordeal in an isolated suburban mansion where Claudio and his fellow blindfolded "prisoners" are subjected to all manner of indignities, tortures and general mistreatment. Eventually - and rather too late into the film's running time - the possibility of escape is spotted and grasped, the semi-naked, handcuffed men fleeing desperately into the rain-soaked night.
   Even at this seemingly crucial stage, however, Chronicle of an Escape (not a particularly fitting title, given the lopsided structure of the screenplay) somehow fails to engage our attention to any significant degree. The tone is grimly monotonous throughout, whether the men are enduring the horrors of enforced captivity or risking their luck in the outside world - and Ivan Wyzsogrod's score seldom lets up from start to finish, striking an incongruously thrillerish note that gives proceedings an off-puttingly exploitational air.
   Claudio apart, the hapless 'detainees' are scarcely differentiated - and after they all have their matted hair shaved off by their evil tormentors, it's virtually impossible to tell who's who. Chronicle of an Escape, though probably made with the best of intentions, tells us absolutely nothing we didn't know beforehand (torture = bad), taking rousingly dramatic material and somehow turning it into a paceless, suspenseless, plodding missed opportunity.

Neil Young
28th January, 2007

NB all details (titles, timings, years, countries, etc) are from TIFF film-festival catalogue

INDEX to our TIFF 2007 coverage