2006 SFIFF—Obaba

As Julio Cortazar is one of my favorite South American writers, Antonio Machado remains my favorite Spanish poet. One of my favorite poems of his reads:

The eye you see is not
An eye because you see it.
It is eye because it sees you.

In gist, this is the lesson any documentarian must learn when they turn their camera onto the world, the selfsame lesson that Lourdes (Bárbara Lennie) has to learn, arriving in the small Basque hill town of Obaba equipped with a videocamera, intending to satisfy a school video assignment by recording the history of this small community. And Lourdes learns her lesson: you can't catch fish without getting wet.

Willis Barnstone, reflecting on the above Machado poem in his book of translations Antonio Machado—Border of a Dream: Selected Poems, writes: "[Machado] tells us that the eye of the other already is, and not because by perceiving it you render it living, but because it is there waiting to come into more apparent being by seeing you. In waking you to its being, it gives you life. And you are companions. Like the world, the eye is on its own. And the world and the eye will go on being, when you are darkness." (2004:xix)

This is the marvelous symbiosis achieved by Montxo Armendáriz in Obaba. Self and other, the documentarian and the documented, create the double helix of identity. It is in equal measures mysterious and revelatory, much like a mask serves to conceal and reveal. The past and the present, childhood and adulthood, walk down the cobbled street hand in hand, counting steps (and time) as they go.

As I mentioned in my write-up of Alica Scherson's Play, the worlds created by magical realism are more alternate than other. If narrative shift can induce a new world, then surely memory can do the same, being perhaps the original narrative shift? As Jonathan Holland writes in his report to Variety from the Toronto Film Festival, Obaba "unlocks the past to study its effect on the present, with results that hauntingly jog things out of familiar perspectives." For it is the story we tell ourselves about our own lives that ultimately creates the fictional construct we call identity, and if the story is continually adjusted, accommodated, all the more to prove that identity is fluid, a continual process more than a static state of being. Lourdes repeatedly prefaces her self-inquiries and her examinations of others with the phrase "quiero decir que" ("what I mean is"), which underscores the thirst for meaning inherent in every story. Exact words become substituted by alternate meanings and we understand ourselves (and others) more by approximation, than definition.

Obaba is structured as a series of flashbacks—three to be exact—which account for the presences and absences of key characters in Obaba. Holland synopsizes them well in his Variety review. Why have some remained in this small provincial town whereas others have traveled away? "You can live anywhere," the film attests, "if you're happy on the inside." Interiority becomes a key piece to the puzzle. Where does insanity come from, Lourdes asks the hostel keeper Ismael (Hector Colome), who promptly responds that it comes from the same place as hate, as reason, from within. Ismael is a subtle character in the film. He is the first Lourdes meets on her way to Obaba, encountered at night on a bending road with a lizard firmly in his grasp. He runs the Lizard Hostel, behind which he raises in a shed what might be considered hostile lizards, reputedly able to crawl in through the human ear to feast on their favorite delicacy—the human brain. Allegedly he has made his best friend Tomas (Txema Blasco) a deaf simpleton by putting one of these lizards in his ear. Or at least that is the accusation of Tomas' sister Begona (Inake Irastorza). Or is it simply that she is bitter over spurned advances from when they were children? In one of the final scenes of Obaba it becomes clear that the wounds of childhood fester into adult consequences. What is inside will find its way out. As Miguel Pendás writes for the festival program: "The people of Obaba are trapped in the past, telling stories from their childhood that involve one another in a complicated web of feelings and relationships."

One other thing he writes seems spot on: "Perhaps we were meant to realize that our technological gadgets are incapable of seeing the essence of reality, and that the only way to really know the world is to surrender to its beauty and mystery." The lens of the video camera by which we enter this accomplished film—and which might be thought of as Machado's eye seeing the subject eye—has (as Machado implies) its inherent limitations. This is poignantly examined when Lourdes reviews her tapes to determine if a lizard has entered her ear. Just when she thinks she is going to discover the answer, the camera fails her.

But for the documentarian it is not only the lens of the camera that has limitations, but the process of editing itself; the eye of the editor. Lourdes' inquiries, predicated on a class assignment and committed to videotape, are brought back into the class room where her instructor advises that now is the time to take the compiled footage and edit the images, to give them whatever meaning she deems appropriate. Reality, he teaches her, is not unique and transparent, but rather multiple and complex. Quoting Balzac, he says that life does not make perfect stories but a novelist can.

Lourdes seems to reach an awareness, however, that what is imperfect in humans is exactly what is essential about them and she begins—not to shape stories—but to allow them to tell themselves. She suggests that what is irresolute about human nature might be that which makes a person happy inside. And once you're happy inside, as we now know, you can live anywhere, even in a quirky provincial little town like Obaba.

SFIFF52: AL MÁS ALLÁ—On-Stage Conversation With Lourdes Portillo & John Anderson

Linda Blackaby, Programmer for the San Francisco Film Society, had the honor of bestowing upon Lourdes Portillo SFIFF52's Golden Gate Persistence of Vision Award, which honors the achievements of a filmmaker whose work is crafting documentaries, short films, animation or work for television. In as many years as I have been attending the San Francisco International, the Golden Gate Persistence of Vision Award has been given to such luminaries as Jan Svankmajer, Robert Frank, Johan van der Keuken, Faith Hubley, Kenneth Anger, Fernando Birri, Pat O'Neill, Jon Else, Adam Curtis, Guy Maddin, Heddy Honigmann and Errol Morris. Portillo—the "elegant insurgent" (as scribed by filmmaker Renee Tajima-Peña in her commendable program essay)—rightfully joins that esteemed company.

Blackaby provided a brief background of Portillo's career: Lourdes was born in Mexico. She moved to Los Angeles when she was 14. She started filmmaking as a member of the Marxist collective Cine Manifest and then as a student at the San Francisco Art Institute. She is the mother of three sons and has been making films for 30 years. Her first film was the narrative After the Earthquake (Después de Terremoto, 1979) set in Nicaragua. In total, she's made 14 films, including several shorts. She does installations. She's had eight major retrospectives, has traveled around the world for this kind of recognition, and we're happy to also be recognizing her here. In 1986, Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo—made with Susana Muñoz—was nominated for an Emmy, an Academy Award, won the Special Jury Prize at the United States Film Festival, and the Coral at the Havana Film Festival. Yasha Aginsky, an editor of Las Madres, recently remarked about making that film: "Lourdes is one of the funniest people I know. We laughed throughout the editing of Las Madres." How does someone who makes films about serious human rights issues still laugh? Renee says: "These are the dissonant sensibilities of Lourdes Portillo—the elegant, the insurgent, the fearless, the wickedly funny…." Many other festival prizes have ensued since Las Madres, including the Golden Gate Award in 1995 at this festival for The Devil Never Sleeps (El Diablo Nunca Duerme, 1994); the Sundance Special Jury Award in 2002 for Missing Young Woman (Señorita Extraviada, 2001); and you see how it goes? I could go on.

There have been various grants and fellowships for Lourdes, including three from the Rockefeller Foundation, a Guggenheim, and most recently a United States Artists Fellowship. Friend and advisor Gail Silva says, "Knowing Lourdes for 30 years has been an adventure. Each new film is different from the last, yet all have a universal consciousness, and a depth of humanity that translates to any audience. And she's brave. Señorita Extraviada has engendered serious threats to her life, yet for the last seven years she has continued speaking out against the murders of young girls in Juarez."

Lourdes is known all around the world, yet she's the sort of person who last week received this shout-out by Galería de la Raza in their weekly calendar: "Rock on, Lourdes! We love Lourdes. She's as bad ass as they come. She's the perfect tía, so to speak, but also a reminder that—in this heady male-dominated industry—there's some sparkling reminders that vision and good old-fashioned persistence can come together and inspire us all. We honor you, Lourdes."

At this juncture Lourdes Portillo walked onto the Sundance Kabuki stage to accept her Golden Gate Persistence of Vision Award. "I've spoken in public a lot and I hardly ever get nervous," Portillo admitted, "but today I'm really nervous and I feel like I have to maybe drink. I'm profoundly honored to have been chosen by the San Francisco Film Society to receive this award. My very special thanks to you, Linda. I'm delighted to be in the company of filmmakers I have long admired, the previous awardees. This moment is so fitting to recognize the most talented collaborators a filmmaker could have. I want to share this honor with Vivien Hillgrove, editor; Kyle Kibbe, cinematographer; José Araújo, sound recordist; and Gail Silva, advisor and, of course, many others here today who have given of themselves for the films we've made. You have been my team, my friends, and fellow artists, and I thank you. I'm very grateful."

Blackaby then introduced John Anderson, contributing film critic for Variety, The Washington Post, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, Film Comment, ArtForum, Village Voice and—here Blackaby chuckled—Schizophrenia Digest. Anderson is a past member of the Selection Committee of the New York Film Festival and the author of Sundancing, Edward Yang, and I Wake Up Screening (with Laura Kim). Anderson and Portillo sat down to chat.

* * *

John Anderson: It's really nice to be here. I'm flattered. I was watching a film yesterday afternoon in the festival called Sacred Places from Cameroon which makes—both explicitly and implicitly—comparisons between film and the griot. It dawned on me that you are in that position.

Lourdes Portillo: I saw that film. I thought about that too.

Anderson: The fellow who runs the cine-club says that the griot tells people what they don't know. I thought, "I'm not sure that Lourdes would agree with that." Sometimes you tell people things they know and don't want to know.

Portillo: Yes.

Anderson: Feel free to address that at length.

Portillo: Yes or no is not enough for you? [The audience breaks into laughter. Lourdes addresses them.] We don't know each other that well so I have to be careful not to hurt his feelings.

Anderson: I'm a film critic. I have no feelings.

Portillo: Whatever. [Laughter.] No, y'know, I was brought up this way. At the kitchen table in my house we spent hours and hours with our parents addressing things that people didn't want to know. The news would come in, my father would discuss it with us, they would joke about it, they would talk about it, comment about it, and it was part of my life. When I started making films, I thought that was my journey: to tell people things that maybe they didn't want to know; but, to do it in such a way that it would activate them to do something to help, y'know? Yes, I agree that is kind of what I do.

Anderson: It's very unusual to hear someone say that they grew up in a household where people talked about things. Usually what you hear are reminisces of families who didn't talk about the very things that should have been talked about. To what do you attribute that? Your family sounds like it was rather special.

Portillo: No, no, not special really. I come from a working class family from the north of Mexico. I feel that's a very Mexican kind of thing that happens in families. In fact, I was talking to a friend of mine who—when I came to his house—he said, "Sit down and talk to me. Let's sit at the kitchen table and let's talk." Because that's where all conversations happen and all the truth is spilled out, y'know? Things change once you go in the street. You can't say all the things you can say at the kitchen table. It's kind of a Mexican tradition, I would say. I don't know if anyone agrees with me or disagrees.

Anderson: You came from Chihuahua at 13, which seems very significant. The name Ofelia keeps popping up in your movies and there's that whole Ophelia Complex. A young woman is at the cusp of such insanity.

Portillo: I was thinking of Dante; but, you're right, Ofelia keeps coming up. For me, 13 was very tragic because I was torn from my country; a country that I really loved and I still love and, of course, I've re-created in my memory and in my films. It was a very difficult journey, y'know? But I felt that I had the essence already of a person that had been formed so that I had the strength to fight, I had the strength to struggle, and I had self-possession. I was myself by then to go forward in a country that really diminished me as a human being. Being in school, I saw girls that were Mexican that had been born here or had come much earlier and they had already been destroyed. It touched me. It propelled me to make things that were meaningful, that treated us like human beings, that looked at us as full human beings with intelligence, with humor, all the things that we had. So yes, 13 is very special.

Anderson: In preparation for all this, I've been thinking about all the questions in terms of documentary filmmaking and—at some point—I thought, "Lourdes doesn't really think of herself as a documentary filmmaker."

Portillo: No, I do; but, I also think of myself as an artist that can do other things. A documentary filmmaker—because, again, I'll go back to Los Angeles where I landed as an immigrant—the only thing that I could have done (because I had fallen in love with film after an experience I'd had working on a film for a friend of mine), the only thing that was available to me with the mark of being a Mexican, being all the bad things that people projected onto me, the only thing I could do was educational films. That was the avenue that was open to me. So I said, "If this is the only avenue that's open for me, then I will do the best I can with what I have and with what I can do." I do think of myself as a documentarian and I love documentary but I love all other kinds of filmmaking.

Anderson: You have been deconstructing—if that's the word—the documentary process within your films from very early on. I don't know if you could call them mockumentaries; but, in The Devil Never Sleeps for instance, you are constantly questioning your own process and your own ethics as a documentary filmmaker, not necessarily coming to any conclusions, at least not within the frame of the film. So there's an ongoing debate within the documentary community about what constitutes good documentary making, whether it's the journalistic, whether it's the craft, whether it's the art. Frankly, Lourdes, you're one of the people I would pick as an example of—often you'll see a non-fiction film and you'll think, "Why isn't this a book? Why isn't this something other than a film because there's no reason for it to be a film?"—which you would never say about one of your films because they're so visually elevated.

Portillo: I've flirted with notions that have been coming through a whole academic world about documenting myself. It was probably an inspiration to go on that route. To play with documentary. To not take it so seriously. But to adhere to the truth. There is an adherence to the truth and there are no lies I can tell in my films. Be playful. Expand the medium. It doesn't have to be the boring PBS stuff.

Anderson: Speaking of which, what is your relationship with PBS?

Portillo: Don't ask, don't tell.

Anderson: There seems to be a lack of responsibility of certain cultural institutions in this country.

Portillo: Absolutely! They haven't responded to the numbers. How many people are here? Who needs to be addressed? That's why my journey as a documentary filmmaker is not over until I see a lot of Latinos making films independently, addressing issues that touch us. The PBS thing is pasteurized. Is that the right word?

Anderson: It's a very kind word. Which brings us to Al Más Allá in a way. I find it hilariously funny. Partly because I know so many people involved in documentary making and the people who need to see this film are probably the ones who wouldn't get it.

Portillo: They're not going to like it.

Anderson: No. But it does reflect upon the notion that—for a field that's supposed to be filled with renegades and rebels—it is, as you say, often pasteurized and formulaic. There doesn't seem to be a seat at the table for anybody who's bending the rules.

Portillo: That's true. For that, I'm just so surprised being here in front of you with this award.

Anderson: For your persistence.

Portillo: My son called it the stubbornness award.

Anderson: I had a conversation with a distributor tonight and we were talking about all the poor documentary filmmakers in the world and she said, "What? Are you kidding? Most of them have trust funds. How do you think they make these films?" [Hissing rises from the audience.] Not everybody; but, the distributor said that's the dirty little secret we're operating on.

Portillo: Definitely it's hard to make a living being a documentary filmmaker. I don't think it's easy. It's a labor of love and it's an adherence to justice and truth and then to play with it is horrible—that's what I do—play with the form. But some people take it very seriously and don't want to deviate from that. I just saw a film that was about a mayordomo, a butler, of a very wealthy family and it was a beautiful film; but, it was shot in 35mm, y'know? It went on and on and—though it was quite beautiful—I realized that the person who made it had means. Some things require those means and some people have them and other people don't have them and still make beautiful stuff and I applaud those filmmakers that have a real theme and a drive to tell a story.

Anderson: Where have you found funding? How have you been able to make your films?

Portillo: I was fortunate initially to have made Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo with Susana Muñoz because that film—with the help of many filmmakers here today—made a name for me. It was much easier after Las Madres because it received so much attention and awards and everything that I was able to raise money for the next film. So it's a matter of having a really good piece and then the road gets paved. That's not to say that it's not hard. It's incredibly difficult in sacrifice. But NEA, Rockefeller, when there was money, we were given money. We were trusted.

Anderson: Wouldn't you say that—formally speaking—Las Madres was one of your more conventional films?

Portillo: Yes. Also, it was not entirely my film. If I had begun my career with The Devil Never Sleeps, I wouldn't be here. I'd be there [Portillo references to the audience].

Anderson: You made a comment once that living in Mexico was like being in a telenovela, which I thought was fun.

Portillo: It's true! Anybody will tell you that.

Anderson: Another comment of your's was about collaboration where you said it's not your favorite way of working.

Portillo: No. I hate it. [Laughter.]

Anderson: That's what I heard.

Portillo: I like to collaborate when I'm the boss. [Laughter.]

Anderson: Your sense of humor is often commented upon but, you know, you draw short of derision when you're dealing with your subjects. The film that makes me think of that is your Selena film, where you could have gone off.

Portillo: That's a great comment.

Anderson: Thank you. That's for the people who hissed at me before. What was your motivation with that film? It seemed like an unlikely subject for you in a way.

Portillo: In a way; but, y'know, I want to be truthful. I want to portray people as they are. "Short of derision" is so observant of you. I'm always on the cusp of derision. Fortunately, I have an editor who is the most moral, wonderful editor who prevents me from being a complete criminal. [Laughter.] I think if I were allowed to let go, I would be really fearful.

Anderson: Getting back to Selena, you were dealing with people who—in someone else's hands—could have been made into the objects of ridicule in many instances. Like the woman at the grave.

Portillo: Yeah; but, y'know, the father wouldn't have let them. I had to pacify the father. The father would not give me the rights to the music if I didn't do what he wanted me to do. I did a little dance there. I tried to get what I wanted and at the same time be critical. I understand what you're saying about the woman by the grave; but, I think worse than that was who the father really was. He was a villain. He was like a Shakespearean character. He would have been a great subject for a documentary. He had a lot of control.

Anderson: Who did you make that film for?

Portillo: Teenage girls. So that they would see themselves. For the first time Latina girls saw themselves portrayed on the television screen. They saw a brown girl that looked like them. You can't forget the historical impact Selena had. That's why I wanted to make the film. Up until that moment for girls in Texas—like I told you when I came to this country I saw girls who had been destroyed—when I went to Texas, I could see girls who had been destroyed. But at the same time, in Selena, in some way, they had some self-worth. So that's who I made the film for.

Anderson: You've stated that your fascination with Mexico also involves your fascination with death.

Portillo: Yes.

Anderson: Could you talk about that a little bit?

Portillo: Well, y'know, in Mexico death is a part of life. Again, I'll go back to my parents. Around the kitchen table my parents would say, "When I die, I want you to do this and that." They would always mention their deaths. Death is a constant companion. They always made reference to it. It's not something to be afraid of. It's just something that is. A fact. At the same time, later on in the Day of the Dead film, you see the joyful aspects of death. Later on that became darker and darker, like in Señorita Extraviada, y'know? But death is a part of life and I accept it in that way; but, I must say that—after making Señorita Extraviada—I don't want to make films about death anymore. I want to make films that don't deal with violent death.

Anderson: For those who might not know what Señorita Extraviada is about, it's about the Juarez murders of … how many women? Hundreds?

Portillo: Yeah, hundreds. I mean we don't know how many women; but, to this day, women are still being murdered in some ritualistic way by narcotraffickers.

Anderson: You were threatened after making that film?

Portillo: Oh yeah. Everybody who has made an impact on the community of Juarez is threatened. I was threatened when I showed the film in the exterior of Mexico when I went to Europe and traveled all over. The Mexican government became aware of the impact the film was having on people and—when I returned to Ciudad Juarez—one day I was there with other people who were doing a function to help the women. A man took me aside, a Secretary for the Attorney General, and he called me by the nickname my mother called me—my mother was dead—and he said, "I know where Esmeralda Street is." That's where I live. He said, "Yes, I do. I know this and I know that" and I said, "Oh, that's nice, that's good; I got to go now." I realized that was a threat. That they knew everything about me. Absolutely everything. Sometimes when I show the film to this day—it's been many many years—but there's always someone in the audience, a man generally … I don't know if I should say all this. In any case, I'm always asked, "Well, are you going to make another film? Aren't you going to follow it up?" and I always have to say, "No."

Anderson: Because you're afraid?

Portillo: Because I'm afraid. After I made Señorita Extraviada, after being threatened, I felt very vulnerable. I kept on traveling with the film and I kept on telling everybody what was happening and I felt more and more vulnerable. Then I felt like I was falling apart. I don't think that's unusual. People who work in this kind of activism feel that way. When I started to fall apart, I decided that I had to get myself together again. But it's taken many years. Finally, I feel just okay. I have like post-traumatic stress syndrome. I can't hear anything about the women of Juarez or how they died or how they disappeared because it upsets me. What is really amazing to me is: why didn't it upset me when I first was there? When I saw things? And I witnessed things? I think it's a process that people who are engaged in human rights to that extent of knowledge, suffer a lot for it in some way. I don't want to make myself a victim but I think it's good to tell this to documentary filmmakers.

Anderson: The other thing that might be helpful to documentary filmmakers is often what distinguishes a good doc from a great doc: it's the filmmaker's ability to get information out of people. I don't know if the word "wheedles" is correct there; but, people talk to you in Señorita Extraviada in remarkable ways. They're revealing things to you that are amazing. Do you have anything you can frame in the way of a "tip" to other filmmakers how you get information out of people?

Portillo: People ask me this a lot. I'm trying to figure it out. I don't know what it is. You have to feel like you're in that person's shoes. You have to treat them with respect and kindness. You have to really feel the curiosity that you have inside of you and express it and not formulate things, y'know? To be sincere. Sincerity is very important, y'know?

Anderson: Real sincerity?

Portillo: No, no, fake. [Laughter.] You devil! [To the audience] I don't know him very well and now he's showing me who he really is. It has to do with sincerity and truthfulness and how the person perceives you. If you're being fake, you're never going to get anything. If you have an agenda, you're not going to get anything. If you're sincere and you follow through. Also, you don't abandon your subjects. The people in Señorita Extraviada, we went there and then we came back and came back and came back many times. I can't say I gained their trust; they became my friends. They knew that I wanted to help them so they would tell me the things that they wanted me to know and the world to know.

Anderson: Is it sometimes the case that people need to be encouraged to say the things they want to say?

Portillo: I did that once and it was really tragic. Not really tragic; it was horrible. That's a strong word. It backfired on me, y'know? But not in any film that you've seen. That's hidden. No, I don't like to do that too much.

Anderson: That sort of brings us back to Al Más Allá because the filmmaker in that film represents everything you're not describing. She's not sincere. She's not looking for the truth. Or maybe she's blinded to it?

Portillo: She's blinded to it, yeah.

Anderson: Was there something in particular that inspired her? Anyone in particular?

Portillo: Y'know, Al Más Allá is really … I think what happened—I will put it to you as a personal experience—it was my response to everything that happened with Señorita Extraviada and the self-importance and hubris that overtakes you from getting so much undue attention as a filmmaker because your subject is so compelling. I felt that I didn't deserve that. Many times I was stumbling into ideas or into the truth or into the story. Al Más Allá represents me at my lowest.

Anderson: I wouldn't have thought it was you who inspired that character.

Portillo: Yeah. Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. Many times. It was a means of making fun of my own arrogance and my own hubris and my own self-importance that I felt was so undue. That's partly what the film is about. At the same time, we were making a film and we were looking for a story and we ran into a different story. It's all about luck, also. The film is about luck.

Anderson: Have you had that happen in a larger sense? Starting with one story and having it turn into another story? In The Devil Never Sleeps, you knew everything ahead of time but for the viewer, of course, it becomes one story opening up into another story.

Portillo: Right.

Anderson: But I've often heard of films that start out to be about one thing and turn into another. It's the difference between knowing what you've got or not.

Portillo: That's right. In Al Más Allá it was really a surprise. It just happened as we went, as we moved along, that we found this other story.

Cross-published on Twitch.

INDEX—Latino, Latin American, & Spanish/Portuguese Cinemas

Argentine Cinema

Aerial, The (La Antena, 2007; Esteban Sapir)—Critical Overview/Review

Dignity of the Nobodies, The (La dignidad de los nadies, 2005; Fernando Solanas)—Festival Capsule

Dignity of the Nobodies, The (La dignidad de los nadies, 2005; Fernando Solanas)—Interview With Fernando Solanas

Dignity of the Nobodies, The (La dignidad de los nadies, 2005; Fernando Solanas)—Review

Latent Argentina (Argentina latente, 2007; Fernando Solanas)—Critical Overview/Review

Liverpool (2008; Lisandro Alonso)—Critical Overview/Review

Northeast (Nordeste, 2005; Juan Diego Solanas)—Festival Capsule

Northeast (Nordeste, 2005; Juan Diego Solanas)—Introductory Remarks by Aymará Rovera and Q&A With Juan Solanas

Paranoids, The (Los Paranoicos, 2008; Gabriel Medina)—Critical Overview/Hold Review

Possible Lives (Las vidas posibles, 2006; Sandra Gugliotta)—Critical Overview

Week Alone, A (Una semana solos, 2007; Celina Murga)—Hold Review (for The Auteurs Notebook)

Window, The (La Ventana, 2008; Carlos Sorín)—Interview with Carlos Sorín

Without Title (Sin Título, 2007; Matt Losada)—Interview with Matt Losada

Stray Girlfriend, A (Una Novia Errante, 2007; Ana Katz)—Critical Overview/Review

Latino/Argentine American Cinema

Cartoneros (2006; Ernesto Livon-Grosman)—Interview With Ernesto Livon-Grosman

Brazilian Cinema

Best of Me, The (Lo mejor de mí, 2007; Roser Aguilar)—Critical Overview

Cinema, Aspirin & Vultures (Cinema, Aspirinas E Urubus, 2005; Marcelo Gomes)—Critical Overview/Review

Cinema, Aspirin & Vultures (Cinema, Aspirinas E Urubus, 2005; Marcelo Gomes)—Interview With Peter Ketnath

City of Men (Cidade dos Homens, 2007; Paulo Morelli)—Critical Overview

Delicate Crime (Crime Delicado, 2005; Beto Brant)—Festival Capsule

Favela Rising (2005; Matt Mochary & Jeff Zimbalist)—Festival Capsule

Germano (2007; Vicente Ferraz)—Capsule

House of Sand, The (Casa de Areia, 2005; Andrucha Waddington)—Festival Capsule

House of Sand, The (Casa de Areia, 2005; Andrucha Waddington)—Interview with Andrucha Waddington

House of Sand, The (Casa de Areia, 2005; Andrucha Waddington)—Q&A with Andrucha Waddington

Lower City (Cidade Baixa, 2005; Sérgio Machado)—Festival Capsule

Lower City (Cidade Baixa, 2005; Sérgio Machado)—Introductory Remarks by Alice Braga

Lower City (Cidade Baixa, 2005; Sérgio Machado)—Interview with Alice Braga

Margarette's Feast (A Festa de Margarette, 2003; Renato Falcão)—Critical Overview/Review

Mutum (2007; Sandra Kogut)—Critical Overview/Review

Not By Chance (Não Por Acaso, 2007; Philippe Barcinksi)—Critical Overview/Review

Underground Game (Jogo Subterrâneo, 2005; Roberto Gervitz)—Festival Capsule

Latino/Brazilian American Cinema

Send A Bullet (Manda Bala)—Sundance Dispatch

Send A Bullet (Manda Bala, 2007; Jason Kohn)—Q&A with Jason Kohn

Latino/Chicano Cinema

Don't Let Me Drown (2008; Cruz Angeles & Maria Topete)—Q&A With Cruz Angeles & Maria Topete

Gómez-Peña, Guillermo—"El Corazón de la Missión"

Lopez, Yolanda—Conversation Between Yolanda Lopez & Amalia Mesa-Bains

Mexican Museum / M.H. deYoung Museum Chicano Films Program: Yo Soy Chicano (1972; Jesús Treviño); Remember Los Siete (work-in-progress; Veronica Majano); Chronicle of a Being (Cronica de un ser, 1990; S.M. Peña); Asco (1994; Juan Garza); Pretty Vacant (1996, Jim Mendiola); Columbus on Trial (1992; Lourdes Portillo); Corn In The Front Yard (2001; Al Lujan); Why Cybraceros? (1998; Alex Rivera); Ozzy Goes to the Alamo (2001; Jim Mendiola and Ruben Ortiz Torres); Lupe & JuanDi from the Block (2003; Fulana Collective); Larry Landia (2005; Karim Scarlata). Curated by Tere Romo.

Missión, La (The Mission, 2008; Peter Bratt)—Q&A with Peter & Benjamin Bratt

Missión, La (The Mission, 2008; Peter Bratt)—Hold Review (for The Auteurs Notebook)

Noriega, Chon—TCM: Latino Images in Film Interview

Oddball Films Chicano Films Program: The Mexican American Speaks: Heritage in Bronze; Latino: A Cultural Conflict; Calle Chula; Two Four; Decision at Delano. Co-curated by Stephen Parr and Jesse Lerner.

Our Father (Padre Nuestro, 2007; Christopher Zalla)—Sundance Dispatch

Al Más Allá (2008; Lourdes Portillo)—On-Stage Conversation With Lourdes Portillo & John Anderson

Quinceañera (2006; Richard Glatzer & Wash Westmoreland)—Interview With Emily Rios & Jesse Garcia

Quinceañera (2006; Richard Glatzer & Wash Westmoreland)—Interview With Richard Glatzer & Wash Westmoreland

Sleep Dealer (2008; Alex Rivera)—Critical Overview/Review

Sleep Dealer (2008; Alex Rivera)—Interview with Alex Rivera (for SF360)

Chilean Cinema

Chilean Cinema SF360 Report by Miljenko Skoknik

In Bed (En La Cama, 2005; Matias Bize)—Festival Capsule

In Bed (En La Cama, 2005; Matias Bize)—Critical Overview/Review

Judge and the General, The (2008; Elizabeth Farnsworth & Patricio Lanfranco)—Critical Overview/Review

La Fuga Spotlight

Lost Domain, The (Le domaine perdu, 2005; Raoul Ruiz)—Festival Capsule

Mirageman (2007; Ernesto Diaz)—Critical Overview/Review

Play (2005; Alicia Scherson)—Festival Capsule

Play (2005; Alicia Scherson)—Critical Overview/Review

Play (2005; Alicia Scherson)—Interview With Alicia Scherson

Santa Fe Street (Calle Santa Fe, 2007; Carmen Castillo)—Critical Overview

Tony Manero (2008; Pablo Larraín)—Interview with Pablo Larraín

Cuban Cinema

Viva Cuba (2005; Juan Carlos Cremata Malberti & Iraida Malberti Cabrera)—Festival Capsule

Latino/Cuban American Cinema

How the Garcia Girls Spent Their Summer (2005; Georgina Garcia Riedel)—Interview with Elizabeth Peña

Mexican Cinema

Babel (2006; Alejandro González Iñárritu)—Q&A with Alejandro González Iñárritu

Battle in Heaven (Batalla en el cielo, 2005; Carlos Reygadas)—Q&A with Carlos Reygadas

Broken Sky (El Cielo Dividido, 2006; Julián Hernández)—Review

Charm School (Niñas Mal, 2007; Fernando Sariñana)—Critical Overview

Cochochi (2007; Israel Cárdenas & Laura Amelia Guzmán)—Critical Overview/Review

Covarrubias, Miguel & John Huston: A Friendship

Cumbia Connection (Cumbia Callera, 2007; René U. Villareal)—Critical Overview/Review

Desert Within, The (Disierto Adentro, 2008; Rodrigo Plá)—Sergio de la Mora's Review

Duck Season (Temporada de Patos, 2004; Fernando Eimbcke)—Critical Overview/Review

Figueroa, Gabriel—Overview & Interview with Steve Seid on "Hecho Por Mexico: The Films of Gabriel Figueroa"

2008 Guadalajara International Film Festival Preview by Sergio de la Mora

Hernández, Julián—Profile by Sergio de la Mora

In the Pit (En El Hoyo, 2005; Juan Carlos Rulfo)—Critical Overview/Review

Japón (Japan, 2002; Carlos Reygadas)—Q&A with Carlos Reygadas

Lake Tahoe (2008; Fernando Eimbcke)—Sergio de la Mora's Review

Lake Tahoe (2008; Fernando Eimbcke)—Hold Review Capsule (for The Auteurs Notebook)

Never On A Sunday (Morir$e En Domingo, 2006; Daniel Gruener)—Interview With Daniel Gruener

News From Afar (Noticias lejanas, 2004; Ricardo Benet)—Festival Capsule

Night Buffalo, The (El búfalo de la noche, 2007; Guillermo Arriga)—Interview with Guillermo Arriaga

Only God Knows (Sólo Dios Sabe, 2006; Carlos Bolado)—Festival Capsule

Only God Knows (Sólo Dios Sabe, 2006; Carlos Bolado)—Interview with Carlos Bolado

Only God Knows (Sólo Dios Sabe, 2006; Carlos Bolado)—Interview with Alice Braga

Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno, 2006; Guillermo del Toro)—Review

Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno, 2006; Guillermo del Toro)—Interview with Guillermo del Toro

Pan's Labyrinth (El Laberinto del Fauno, 2006; Guillermo del Toro)—Q&A with Guillermo del Toro

Rivera, Diego—Cargador de Flores

Rudo y Cursi (2009; Carlos Cuarón)—Hold Review (for The Auteurs Notebook)

Sergio de la Mora's Top Ten Favorite Mexican Films of 2007

Silent Light (Luz Silenciosa, 2007; Carlos Reygadas)—Critical Overview/Review

Silent Light (Luz Silenciosa, 2007; Carlos Reygadas)—Dim Sum with Carlos Reygadas

Silent Light (Luz Silenciosa, 2007; Carlos Reygadas)—Q&A with Carlos Reygadas

Tribute to Toña la Negra—Capsule

Violin, The (El Violin, 2005; Francisco Vargas)—Interview with Francisco Vargas

Mexican/U.S. Cinema

Cinemachismo—Q&A With Sergio de la Mora

Cinemachismo—Lambda Nomination

Cowboy del Amor (2005; Michèle Ohayon)—Review

Letters From the Other Side (2006; Heather Courtney)—Critical Overview/Review

Romántico (2005; Mark Becker)—Interview with Mark Becker, Pt. One

Romántico (2005; Mark Becker)—Interview with Mark Becker, Pt. Two

Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, The (2005; Tommy Lee Jones)—Critical Overview/Review

Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, The (2005; Tommy Lee Jones)—Q&A With Guillermo Arriaga

Miscellaneous

Oscars 2007 Hispanic Nominees

Peruvian Cinema

Madeinusa (2006; Claudia Llosa)—Critical Overview/Review

Máncora (2008;Ricardo de Montreuil)—Critical Overview/Review

Susana Baca: Memoria Viva (2003; Mark Dixon)—Capsule

Portuguese Cinema

Blood, The (O Sangue, 1989; Pedro Costa)—Critical Overview/Review

Casa de Lava (1994; Pedro Costa)—Critical Overview/Review

Costa, Pedro—Interview (for The Greencine Daily)

Costa, Pedro—Overview

Tarrafal (2007; Pedro Costa)—Capsule

Tarrafal (2007; Pedro Costa)—Critical Overview/Review

Two Drifters (Odete, 2005; João Pedro Rodrigues)—Review

Spanish Cinema

20 Centimeters (20 Centímetros, 2005; Ramón Salazar)—Critical Overview/Review

Almadovar, Pedro—An Overview of the "Viva Pedro" Retrospective (for The Greencine Daily)

Birdsong (El Cant dels Ocells, 2008; Albert Serra)—Interview With Albert Serra & Mark Peranson

Boystown (Chuecatown, 2007; Juan Flahn)—Critical Overview

Buñuel, Luis—My Last Sigh Review

Chaotic Ana (Caótica Ana, 2007; Julio Medem)—Critical Overview

Grönholm Method, The (El método, 2005; Marcelo Piñeyro)—Festival Capsule

Iberia (2005; Carlos Saura)—Festival Capsule

In the City of Sylvia (En la Ciudad de Sylvia, 2007; José Luis Guerín)—Critical Overview

Mataharis (2007;Icíar Bollaín)—Critical Overview

Me (Yo, 2007; Rafa Cortés)—Critical Overview

Nocturna (2007;Victor Maldonado & Adrià García)—Critical Overview/Review

Obaba (2005; Montxo Armendáriz)—Festival Capsule

Obaba (2005; Montxo Armendáriz)—Critical Overview/Review

Orphanage, The (El Orfanato, 2007; Juan Antonio Bayona)—Critical Overview/Review

Orphanage, The (El Orfanato, 2007; Juan Antonio Bayona)—Interview with Juan Antonio Bayona & Sergio Sánchez (for The Greencine Daily)

Shiver (Eskalofrío, 2008; Isidro Ortiz)—Critical Overview/Review

Solitary Fragments (La soledad, 2007; Jaime Rosales)—Critical Overview

SFIFF53 2010—Michael Hawley's Line-Up Preview, Pt. One

The full line-up for the 53rd San Francisco International Film Festival (SFIFF) was announced at an unusually subdued press conference last week. With Executive Director Graham Leggat taking an uncustomary silent role in the proceedings, it was left for new Director of Programming Rachel Rosen and her staff to guide attendant journalists and Bay Area film community members through this year's impressive roster of 177 films from 46 countries. Rosen admitted that while the festival doesn't program according to "themes", certain ones inevitably emerge. 2010's program is characterized by "a return to basics and beauty in filmmaking," films that could be deemed "unclassifiable," films with an "intense interest in the creative process" and the beginnings of an "era of co-auteur theory" (15 of this year's selections have two or more directors). Rosen also joked that she has indulged her taste for "nuns, old men and farm animals."

In a previous entry I covered the films and events announced prior to the press conference. I won't be revisiting them here, except for these few addendums. Joining the list of on-stage "friends" at the Roger Ebert tribute will be writer/director Philip Kaufman and documentarian Errol Morris. At the world premiere of All About Evil, director Joshua Grannell (aka Peaches Christ) is expected to duet with actress Mink Stole on the theme song from John Waters' Female Trouble. Animator Don Hertzfeldt will be the youngest person to ever receive the fest's Persistance of Vision Award. The documentary Presumed Guilty so wowed the programming staff that they've already declared it winner of the Golden Gate Awards competition for Best Bay Area Doc, leaving one less decision for the jury.

Each year when the SFIFF line-up is revealed—and I've attended every single fest since 1976—I experience a mixture of elation and disappointment. This 53rd edition is no exception. Only six of the 20 films I most hoped for are in evidence, and several dozen more are MIA. That said, there are fully 25 films I'm very excited about seeing, with another dozen of possible interest. So here's my very subjective wander through what's in store from April 22 to May 6.

I'll begin, as I'm wont to do, with the French language selections. And right off, here's a big Evening Class kiss to whoever programmed Joann Sfar's Gainsbourg (Je t'aime…moi non plus). I'm a monster fan of musical iconoclast Serge Gainsbourg, but know very little about his life apart from the scandals (which include making the only pop record ever condemned by a Pope). This biopic only opened in French theaters three months ago, so once again, bravo. Somewhat relatedly, SFIFF has also programmed visionary Hong Kong director Johnnie To's Vengeance, which stars grizzled veteran rock 'n' roller Johnny Hallyday, aka the French Elvis Presley, as a chef avenging the Hong Kong slaughter of his daughter's family.

SFIFF has always done a fine job of keeping tabs on the work of France's l-o-n-g established auteurs. This year brings us Alain Resnais' Wild Grass, which won a special jury prize last year at Cannes, and Jacques Rivette's circus-set Around a Small Mountain. I sheepishly confess to not being a particular fan of the latter director's work, but I adored 2007's The Duchess of Langeais and this new one stars favorites Sergio Castellitto and Jane Birkin (ex-wife of Serge and mother of Charlotte Gainsbourg).

A number of mid-career French auteurs also pop up this year, starting with the Opening Night screening of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Micmacs, his first film since 2004's A Very Long Engagement. Bruno Dumont returns to SFIFF with his latest provocation, a tale of religious extremism called Hadejwich. Although it's received tepid reviews, everyone I know is dying to see White Material because a) it stars Isabelle Huppert and b) it's directed by Claire Denis. This is Huppert's second film in as many years playing a white colonialist, the other being Rithy Panh's mysteriously as-yet-unseen in the Bay Area The Sea Wall. Director Jan Kounen, whom Variety once called "the Carlos Castañeda of hipster helmers," gets a crack at the Coco Chanel legend in Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky. The story takes place at a time when reviled and penniless Igor (due to "The Rite of Spring" and the Russian Revolution respectively) moves his wife and four kids into Coco's sprawling estate. The film stars Anna Mouglalis (who also plays chanteuse Juliette Gréco in Gainsbourg) and Danish dreamboat Mads Mikkelsen. Then in Christophe Honoré's Making Plans for Lena, put-upon wife and mother Chiara Mastroianni gets to spend a disastrous weekend at her parent's home in Bretagne. And yes, there's a part in it for Louis Garrel. SFIFF53 will also be showing a special sneak preview of a new-ish film by François Ozon.

Four other French language films I'm anticipating are by directors at or near the beginning of their careers. I was thrilled to find Patric Chiha's debut film Domain in the line-up because it stars the world's scariest actress and a personal favorite of mine, Béatrice Dalle. Who can believe it's been almost 25 years since Betty Blue? Here she plays an increasingly unhinged, alcoholic mathematician who has a special relationship with her gay, teenage nephew. The lead actress is also my reason for wanting to see Dutch director Dorothée van den Berghe's My Queen Karo. Déborah François (The Child, The Page Turner) stars in this story of a squatting family in 1970s Amsterdam, as seen through the eyes of a young girl, Karo. Making her second appearance at SFIFF is director Mia Hansen-Løve with Father of My Children. I wasn't as taken by 2008's All is Forgiven as many were, but I've heard nothing but great things about this true story of a French film producer's suicide and its effect on those he leaves behind. In her third feature, Lourdes, Austrian director Jessica Hausner enlists the help of yet another incomparable French actress. Sylvie Testud plays a wheelchair-bound, quasi non-believer who nonetheless makes a pilgrimage to Lourdes.

Finally, there are three French documentaries I've got my eye on. Serge Bromberg and Ruxandra Medrea's Henri-Georges Clouzot's Inferno attempts to reconstruct a lost masterpiece by the director of Diabolique and The Wages of Fear, while recounting the story of its troubled production. Documentarian Nicolas Philibert had a 2003 arthouse hit with To Be and To Have, about a contemporary one-room schoolhouse in rural France. His latest film Nénette looks at a 40-year-old orangutan who lives the caged life in Paris' Jardin des Plantes. Jean-François Delassus's 14-18: The Noise and the Fury is a WWI doc that programmer Rosen especially singled out as being "unclassifiable." Using a mix of newsreel footage, movie clips and the voice of an unseen soldier narrator, the film attempts to fathom a reason for the "war to end all wars" 10 million dead.

While the above titles represent a formidable effort at bringing the latest French cinema to the Bay Area, there are a number of curious omissions. Will the latest works by such notable directors as Robert Guédiguian (The Army of Crime), Lucas Belvaux (Rapt), Gaspar Noé (Enter the Void), Tony Gatlif (Korkoro), Costa Gavras (Eden is West), Patrice Chereau (Persecution) and Sebastien Lifshitz (Going South), as well as Isabelle Adjani's Cesar-winning performance in Skirt Day pop up at the SF Film Society's autumn French Cinema Now festival? Or will they already be considered old hat and forgotten by then?

Cross-published on film-415 and Twitch.