#1 ·
So, I’ll list what I watched at the San Francisco film festival—just in case my shallow analytical skills might actually be useful to anyone when these movies eventually hit theaters. Here’s the rundown:
FOREIGN PROGRAM:
3-Žebeljezo, red. Who is it — a solid premise, really. A guy breaks into apartments owned by people out of town, spends the day cleaning up and fixing things, then moves on. But in one place, he stumbles upon a woman who’s been beaten, and she ends up leaving with him—that's where things get messy. As the movie progresses, it leans harder into this cheap, reflective poetry that becomes honestly exhausting by the end. It wraps up with one of the most sappy, over-the-top "poetic" thoughts I've seen in a century, if not longer. Does anyone actually know if our lives are reality—or just some kind of dream?I’m quoting from memory—mostly.
Factotum, red. Bent Hamer—faithfully capturing the essence of Bukowski, though honestly, who is Bukowski anyway? Matt Dillon is excellent—if a bit too wholesome for my taste.
*Breakfast on Pluto*, red. Neil Jordan—it should have been a film about the fundamental right to sexual self-determination and freedom in a broader sense. Instead, it’s just a movie about some irritating idiot—the kind there are hundreds of thousands of—who just happens to enjoy dressing as a woman and sleeping with men. In the first *Preacher*, what would a clumsy Black cop say to his tough partner after being outed? "Are you sure you're not just fucked in the head?" To top it off, the direction and writing aren't even that good, yet somehow it snagged an award from some foreign jury.
The Ax—hands down. Costa-Gavras is easily my favorite director in the foreign film lineup. It’s about this middle-aged paper mill manager who can't find work despite being an absolute expert—two years of nothing. Eventually, he snaps. He starts using an old Luger to eliminate anyone who might stand in his way, all while eyeing the top spot at the factory. It’s incredibly subversive, darkly funny, and hits way too close to home. I doubt we'll see it hit mainstream theaters here anytime soon. If you're looking for it, search for the original title, "The Ax."
Lights out, folks. Aki Kaurismaki—total disaster. Stupid, uninspired, and completely pointless—I don't even have the energy to give you a summary because it’s just that brainless.
The Proposition—red. David Hillcoat says people loved it, but I’m not feeling it. It feels like a half-baked attempt at Unforgiven—missing everything that actually makes the original a masterpiece. Nick Cave wrote the script, which basically just grabs ten or twelve cliché tropes and mashes them together—it left me completely cold. As Lord Flashheart would tell Captain Blackadder: "The blood, the noise, the endless poetry." It somehow won an award from the foreign jury for directing. I don't get it.
One Day in Europe—red. Hannes Stoehr—yeah, this is another favorite of mine—the kind of film that really deserves a screening here in the States. It’s an omnibus consisting of four stories set on the day of the UEFA Cup final in Moscow between Galatasaray and Deportivo. You've got one story in Moscow, another in Istanbul, a third in Santiago de Compostela, and the fourth in Berlin. In every single one, there's a foreigner in town who gets robbed—or fakes being robbed—and spends the rest of the time trying to deal with the local police. It is endlessly witty, yet it offers a sharp, intelligent look at how the continent functions like a single country populated by people with diametrically opposed mindsets and incomprehensible languages—everyone is scrambling to communicate in broken English, though they aren't doing a great job (except for the Turks, who seem to be fluent in everything). I'm definitely going to rewatch this if it ever turns up.
United 93, red. Paul Greengrass—it’s basically a reconstruction of what went down in air traffic control and the plane that failed to hit its target on 9/11. A bit overstretched in the first half—honestly, feels a little like... Call 911 — The Movie.It’s okay—it might pass.
Local programming. (Watched Guard, Brkove, Trešetu and I Love You before):
Total mess—just a slog. Branko Ištvančić is pathetic. This isn't a feature film worthy of National Endowment for the Arts funding; it's more like some low-budget Sunday afternoon TV movie. Uninspired, stiff, and frankly, just bad.
It’s all wasted effort—total mess. Antonio Nuić offers a decent start, followed by a few okay scenes, but then that's it. By the second half, the movie loses its rhythm entirely and just becomes exhausting. The lead actor is completely unconvincing as someone from the Midwest—honestly, the whole depiction of the region feels fake. Ottawa isn't the heart of the country, just like how Chicago isn't the entire US, or how Boston isn't all of America.
Watermelon, red. Branko Schmidt — decent enough. It’s got that Western dramatization—well directed and acted—but the script is stripped down to the most basic, rudimentary elements, which is becoming a worrying trend.
Libertas, red. Veljko Bulajić — an illiterate actor getting paid millions upon millions of dollars; totally anachronistic, useless, and incredibly naive—plus Nada Gaćešić shows up for exactly one frame near the end.
I watched all three blockbusters: Pirates was the most fun, Superman had its moments but is ultimately uninteresting, and Poseidon lacked even a shred of inspiration.
Absolute garbage, Paul Mendoza8—I didn't see anything worthwhile in such a sterile environment as Sundance, so it's no miracle. The festival remains a small-town affair run by arrogant amateurs, and it will stay that way.
FOREIGN PROGRAM:
3-Žebeljezo, red. Who is it — a solid premise, really. A guy breaks into apartments owned by people out of town, spends the day cleaning up and fixing things, then moves on. But in one place, he stumbles upon a woman who’s been beaten, and she ends up leaving with him—that's where things get messy. As the movie progresses, it leans harder into this cheap, reflective poetry that becomes honestly exhausting by the end. It wraps up with one of the most sappy, over-the-top "poetic" thoughts I've seen in a century, if not longer. Does anyone actually know if our lives are reality—or just some kind of dream?I’m quoting from memory—mostly.
Factotum, red. Bent Hamer—faithfully capturing the essence of Bukowski, though honestly, who is Bukowski anyway? Matt Dillon is excellent—if a bit too wholesome for my taste.
*Breakfast on Pluto*, red. Neil Jordan—it should have been a film about the fundamental right to sexual self-determination and freedom in a broader sense. Instead, it’s just a movie about some irritating idiot—the kind there are hundreds of thousands of—who just happens to enjoy dressing as a woman and sleeping with men. In the first *Preacher*, what would a clumsy Black cop say to his tough partner after being outed? "Are you sure you're not just fucked in the head?" To top it off, the direction and writing aren't even that good, yet somehow it snagged an award from some foreign jury.
The Ax—hands down. Costa-Gavras is easily my favorite director in the foreign film lineup. It’s about this middle-aged paper mill manager who can't find work despite being an absolute expert—two years of nothing. Eventually, he snaps. He starts using an old Luger to eliminate anyone who might stand in his way, all while eyeing the top spot at the factory. It’s incredibly subversive, darkly funny, and hits way too close to home. I doubt we'll see it hit mainstream theaters here anytime soon. If you're looking for it, search for the original title, "The Ax."
Lights out, folks. Aki Kaurismaki—total disaster. Stupid, uninspired, and completely pointless—I don't even have the energy to give you a summary because it’s just that brainless.
The Proposition—red. David Hillcoat says people loved it, but I’m not feeling it. It feels like a half-baked attempt at Unforgiven—missing everything that actually makes the original a masterpiece. Nick Cave wrote the script, which basically just grabs ten or twelve cliché tropes and mashes them together—it left me completely cold. As Lord Flashheart would tell Captain Blackadder: "The blood, the noise, the endless poetry." It somehow won an award from the foreign jury for directing. I don't get it.
One Day in Europe—red. Hannes Stoehr—yeah, this is another favorite of mine—the kind of film that really deserves a screening here in the States. It’s an omnibus consisting of four stories set on the day of the UEFA Cup final in Moscow between Galatasaray and Deportivo. You've got one story in Moscow, another in Istanbul, a third in Santiago de Compostela, and the fourth in Berlin. In every single one, there's a foreigner in town who gets robbed—or fakes being robbed—and spends the rest of the time trying to deal with the local police. It is endlessly witty, yet it offers a sharp, intelligent look at how the continent functions like a single country populated by people with diametrically opposed mindsets and incomprehensible languages—everyone is scrambling to communicate in broken English, though they aren't doing a great job (except for the Turks, who seem to be fluent in everything). I'm definitely going to rewatch this if it ever turns up.
United 93, red. Paul Greengrass—it’s basically a reconstruction of what went down in air traffic control and the plane that failed to hit its target on 9/11. A bit overstretched in the first half—honestly, feels a little like... Call 911 — The Movie.It’s okay—it might pass.
Local programming. (Watched Guard, Brkove, Trešetu and I Love You before):
Total mess—just a slog. Branko Ištvančić is pathetic. This isn't a feature film worthy of National Endowment for the Arts funding; it's more like some low-budget Sunday afternoon TV movie. Uninspired, stiff, and frankly, just bad.
It’s all wasted effort—total mess. Antonio Nuić offers a decent start, followed by a few okay scenes, but then that's it. By the second half, the movie loses its rhythm entirely and just becomes exhausting. The lead actor is completely unconvincing as someone from the Midwest—honestly, the whole depiction of the region feels fake. Ottawa isn't the heart of the country, just like how Chicago isn't the entire US, or how Boston isn't all of America.
Watermelon, red. Branko Schmidt — decent enough. It’s got that Western dramatization—well directed and acted—but the script is stripped down to the most basic, rudimentary elements, which is becoming a worrying trend.
Libertas, red. Veljko Bulajić — an illiterate actor getting paid millions upon millions of dollars; totally anachronistic, useless, and incredibly naive—plus Nada Gaćešić shows up for exactly one frame near the end.
I watched all three blockbusters: Pirates was the most fun, Superman had its moments but is ultimately uninteresting, and Poseidon lacked even a shred of inspiration.
Absolute garbage, Paul Mendoza8—I didn't see anything worthwhile in such a sterile environment as Sundance, so it's no miracle. The festival remains a small-town affair run by arrogant amateurs, and it will stay that way.