By Laurie Meunier Graves

We are at day six of the Maine International Film Festival (MIFF), and the weather gods have been their usual perverse selves. The month of June, as is common in Maine, was damp, rainy, and cool. Perfect for the slugs that love to chew on my lettuce and violas, but not so good for Mainers, who yearn for good weather after a long, snowy winter. In that rainy month, sitting through movie after movie would have been a welcome diversion. However, the rains of June are behind us, and now we have the hot, sunny days of July, days for sitting on the patio and for going for long walks on the beach. True cinephiles aren’t supposed to care a jot about the weather, but for some of us, it’s hard not to glance wistfully at the blue skies and selfishly wish we had the gray days of June for our movie-going marathon. Well, to turn an old saying around, into every film festival some sun must shine. But every single day?

Before MIFF began, I worried that the high price of gas would affect attendance. We live twenty-six miles from Waterville, home of the film festival, and we estimate that we will spend $100 or more in gas as we go to and fro every day for ten days. And we drive a Toyota Corolla that gets very good gas mileage. I can only imagine what people with bigger cars are paying. Yet, the high cost of gas doesn’t seem to be keeping people away. Most of the movies we’ve seen have been very well attended, and the filmgoers have, as usual, brought life to a mill town that has seen more prosperous times.

My husband, my daughter, and I have fallen into our usual film festival routine with a kick-off meal at the Bread Box Café, which always includes a sharp but sweet chocolate martini. We have had nachos and margaritas. Chinese food. Lots of sandwiches from our cooler. Popcorn and more popcorn. Not much sleep. For the past few years, MIFF has set up plenty of tables and chairs in the parking lot of Railroad Square Cinema, the main venue. As Martha Stewart might say, this has been a very good thing. The tables and chairs give filmgoers a place to gather and discuss movies, a place to eat their lunch, a place to rest between shows. Last night, we watched a beautiful sunset that progressed from red-lit clouds to the rising of a nearly full moon. Maybe those sunny days are a good thing after all.

So far, we have seen 13 movies. (I am writing this on the morning of the sixth day, and we have yet to see this day’s movies.) The following list includes the movies that for me have risen above the so-so category into something memorable, something very much worth seeing. It’s an incredibly eclectic mix, ranging from a farce so hilarious that the entire audience hooted with pleasure to a coming of age story that could only be described as harrowing. That mix, of course, is one of the pleasures of film festivals. The movies are not all the usual mind-numbing collection of either lame comedies or loud action movies that are standard Cineplex fare. MIFF truly brings a diversity of films that can rarely be seen outside of festivals, especially in places such as Waterville, Maine. Each film represents a different voice, a different story, and while some of them do indeed fall flat, there is enough richness to get a tiny glimpse, a small illumination, of the world in which we live.

Because the movies I have chosen are all so different from each other, I have put them in alphabetical order rather than in order of preference. After all, how can you compare an uproarious French farce with an exquisite, beautifully filmed drama set in Chad? It’s like asking a mother which darling child is her favorite. They are all special in unique ways, and choosing a favorite becomes an odious if not impossible task. So, when it comes to movies, at least, thank goodness for the alphabet.

MIDFESTIVAL PICKS

DARATT

This beautiful, moving film from Chad gives minimalism a good name. Oftentimes in movies less is not more; it’s just boring and dreary. However, in the case of Daratt, a story of revenge that takes place after a forty-year civil war, the minimalism—the deliberate pacing and the sparse dialogue—works to sharpen every detail and emotion, serving as a reflection of the sere, desert landscape.

The movie opens in a village where the people are listening intently to the radio. An important announcement has been made: The government has pardoned all the war criminals. Gumar Abatcha, one of the village elders, does not react well to this news. His own son had been killed by a man named Nassara, one of the pardoned war criminals, and Abatcha, not unreasonably, feels that justice has not been served. Old, blind, and unable to seek revenge, Abatcha sends Atim, his sixteen-year-old grandson, to find and kill the man who made Atim an orphan. This is a heavy burden for a teenager, but Atim silently acquiesces to his grandfather’s wishes.

Atim leaves the village and eventually discovers the whereabouts of Nassara, who has become a baker who not only sells bread but also gives it away to poor children. He also goes to the mosque to pray. Although the war has left Nassara scarred and wounded, he is nonetheless still a powerful man with a formidable presence. Atim, taciturn and angry, becomes Nassara’s apprentice so that he can gather the courage to kill him. This proves to be a difficult task. The war is over, Atim never knew his own father, and, in the process of learning to make bread, he comes to know Nassara. Will Atim kill Nassara? The movie builds this conflict to an almost intolerable pitch.

The movie does not shy away from presenting Nassara’s still-brutal side, but it also shows other aspects of his personality, including his own guilt over the things he has done. Nassara is not a sweet man trapped in an ugly world. Rather, he was an active participant who still struggles to control his rage.

Daratt means dry season, and the desert landscape infuses the film with a parched grittiness that most certainly could be used as a metaphor for a country and a people worn down by war. The movie raises an important, fundamental question that many great writers, including Shakespeare, have explored: That is, which is more important, mercy or vengeance? It is an issue for every age and every culture, and the director/writer Mahamet-Saleh Haroun, along with the very talented lead actors, has produced a work of art.

MOMMA’S MAN

This movie is not to everyone’s taste, not even to those who go to a film festival and therefore expect quirky films. In fact, at MIFF, it seems that only a minority who have seen Momma’s Man found it to be moving and engaging. Most everyone else seemed to find it strange and slow. Like Daratt, Momma’s Man has minimal dialogue, but there the resemblance ends. While Momma’s Man does have a theme that is not trivial, it does not have the urgency of vengeance vs. mercy. Instead, Momma’s Man deals with parenthood, depression, and how having a baby can be overwhelming.

Mikey has come to New York to visit his parents who live in a loft amid such a profusion of clutter that it is truly jaw-dropping. At first, I thought they lived in a junk shop, and I was not the only viewer who thought this was the case. Bin upon bin of who knows what filled this loft so completely that there was barely room for two beds and a dining table. Yet, what looks like a junk shop to one person looks like home to someone else, and Mikey does not want to leave his parents to go back home to his wife and child in California. First with excuses then with outright lies, Mikey manages to postpone his departure so that he can read comic books, sing old songs he wrote in high school, and visit with high school friends. It soon becomes obvious that he is dealing not only with regression but also with a severe depression.

Mikey’s mother and father at first take the prolonged visit in stride, but as time goes on, they become alarmed. Why isn’t their son going home? This is not a case of parents clinging to the child but rather the child clinging to the parents, and the rest of the movie is about Mikey coming to terms with himself and parenthood.

The above description makes this sound like a rather straightforward movie, but nothing could be further from the truth. The gloriously cluttered loft sets the tone, but at the center are Flo and Ken Jacobs, the actors who not only play Mikey’s parents but who are also the parents of the director/writer Azazel Jacobs. Their beautiful angular looks, their intelligence, and their creativity combined with their eccentricity and gentleness all come together to make unforgettable characters. I was riveted by them, but other filmgoers found them to be passive and inarticulate to the point of irritation. Why didn’t they just hash it out with Mikey and tell him to get his act together? Isn’t that what most parents would do?

Perhaps, but as my daughter Dee pointed out, Mikey’s parents weren’t like most parents, and their actions were consistent with who they were. Yes, they were passive (or gentle, depending on your point of view), but would confrontation have been a better method? Can people be bullied out of their depression? Not necessarily. I think an argument can be made that Mikey’s parents’ approach, one often used by the Quakers, had just as much validity as a more aggressive tactic.

Matt Boren, who played Mikey, gives an affecting performance of a man who is conflicted about his role as a parent and a son. His depression seems very real and is painful to watch.

A final tidbit: The loft in the movie is the actual home of Flo and Ken Jacobs, who is an experimental filmmaker. That must have been quite a home to grow up in.

OSS 117: CAIRO, NEST OF SPIES

To my way of thinking, one of the greatest pleasures of going to the movies is to watch a comedy that tickles the funny bone of the entire audience, and there are genuine belly laughs from beginning to end. Such movies are rare, and when they do come along, we often don’t give them the credit they deserve. We tend not to appreciate just how hard it is to make a roomful of people laugh for an hour and a half or so.

I am happy to report that OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies is just that sort of movie. A French farce that spoofs spy films, colonialism, Western arrogance, and the Middle East, Cairo, Nest of Spies is hilarious from beginning to end. Based on a series that predates James Bond, the movie follows the sublimely bumbling yet supremely confident Hubert Bonisseur (aka Agent OSS 117) as he goes to Egypt to set things straight. He is played to perfection with shining smarminess by the French actor Jean Dujardin. A cross between Mary Tyler Moore’s Ted Baxter and Get Smart’s Maxwell Smart, Agent 117 sows cultural insults and confusion wherever he goes. But he doesn’t do this in a malicious way but rather out of sheer ignorance. Somehow or other, he gets the man and the girl (of course), but he leaves things worse in Egypt than they were when he started. Much worse.

Despite the movies folderol and tomfoolery, it has a few pointed things to say about how the West, with its bullying, insensitive ways, has made things far, far worse in the Middle East. In fact, it is galling how close to the truth this movie actually comes to portraying our ignorance. (John McCain’s recent inability to distinguish the Sunnis from the Shiites comes to mind.)

As for Agent 117, he doesn’t worry his pretty little head about such distinctions. He just passes a hand over his messy hair, which instantly snaps into place, wrinkles his brow, and moves with a swagger to the next assignment, Iran, where he can show that country how things should be.

Near the end of the movie, one of the characters wonders aloud if Agent 117 is smart or stupid. Good question, and one that applies to certain current leaders as well.

TOWELHEAD

On the other hand, there is nothing remotely funny about this film, which follows Jasira, a thirteen-year-old Arab American who has a Lebanese father and a WASP mother, who are divorced. From the opening scene, harrowing is the best word to describe Towelhead, when it becomes clear that all the adults in Jasira life are at best more interested in themselves than they are in Jasira. At worst, they are ready to prey on this lovely young girl as well as blame her for situations that are out of her control.

The film begins with Jasira’s mother, Gail (Maria Bello), kicking her out of the house. Gail’s boyfriend has taken a little too close an interest in Jasira, and his scene with her made everyone in the audience squirm. Gail immediately jumps to the conclusion that the boyfriend behaved the way he did because Jasira was too provocative.  To Texas Jasira must go to live with her harsh, unsympathetic father who thinks nothing of slapping her across the face if he feels that Jasira is dressed inappropriately.

Into this unhappy half-family comes the next door neighbors, the Vuosos, and it soon becomes obvious that Mr. Vuoso’s  (Aaron Eckhart) interest in Jasira is not innocent. Jasira, in turn, is not sure whether she should flaunt her sexuality or be ashamed of it, and this confusion, given her circumstances, is completely believable.

All through the movie, I was afraid for Jasira, afraid of what Mr. Vuoso was going to do, afraid of what her father would do, and afraid of what Jasira herself might do. Summer Bishil, the actress who plays Jasira, does an absolutely stunning job of portraying this frightened young girl who is conflicted about how she should use her body.

I don’t think I’m giving too much away by writing that Jasira does find allies, as neglected and abused children sometimes do. These allies introduce the only hopeful element into this dark movie that seldom hits a wrong note. Explicit and difficult, this movie is very much worth seeing.