What we saw at Whānau Mārama New Zealand International Film Festival: week two

The Spinoff

6 days ago

Art gallery tension, a buzzy animated documentary, 'the funniest film at Cannes' and more – reviewed.
Harvest
If you go into this expecting the 'seven hallucinatory days' in a rural village that it's been widely billed as, you'll leave disappointed. While psilocybins do make a cameo, and director Athina Rachel Tsangari's decision to shoot on celluloid renders the bucolic landscape surreally beautiful, it's less of a fever dream and more a folk tale about land stewardship, traditional ways of life and commune with the natural world, demonstrating how all are affected by the structural changes of modernity and technology. (Reviews have been mixed: The Guardian took a scythe to it.)
The village (we never learn its name) and how it all operates, the rituals and daily rhythms of life, is presented in an almost anthropological rendering – the costuming is incredibly detailed, the characters less so – of a pre-industrial rural community.
That's not to say Harvest is without esotericism and philosophising, and the elements I found most affecting were the explorations of consciousness and knowledge; the frequencies the villagers, particularly protagonist Walt, are tuned in to, and the scope of their existence are beyond our modern comprehension.
It's against all this that the mapmaking of visiting cartographer 'Quill' is presented as violent, invasive technology – a destructive tool of landholders and capitalism that will destroy the village and displace its citizens. Watch this film while you think about where we are now, and where we're heading. / Emma Gleason
Notes From a Fish
This is a wonderful New Zealand film about two disparate characters thrown together thanks to one very special Discus fish named Kirby. There's the young soft bumbling Leroy who is trying to write a novel and predictably broke. Newcomer Emilio Mancilla gives a perfect understated performance that makes you think he is possibly just being himself (his online bio suspiciously includes writer alongside actor). Urgent circumstances mean that Leroy becomes dependent on Charlie, a recently redundant fisheries officer, and his friend's aunt. She takes him through a series of misfortunes, a tarot reader (incredible performance by Yvette Parsons) and she may or may not be living in her car. Charlie is a somewhat caustic character that under Romy Hooper provides comic relief if you're up for a dark laugh.
Though an unlikely pairing, at the heart of the two protagonists is a deep sadness which is rising to the surface. Their life plans have gone awry and now they're both trying to figure out how to be in the world. Should Leroy's novel be erotic fiction like a sleazy literary agent suggests? Can Charlie get to the bottom of her redundancy?
Co-directors Tom Levesque and Romy Hooper and producer Eva Trebilco decided to make this film after many funding trials and tribulations for other projects. Instead of sending this story through those funnels which shape, distort and slow down the creative process they decided to make this film for fun, on a $10K budget and with 10 days of shooting. For me, it's a reminder that maybe cash isn't king, and if you can afford it, doing something for nothing can be nourishing, joyful and produce something good! / Gabi Lardies
Endless Cookie
Endless Cookie is like a slow burning cigarette, laced with LSD. At first, the film is great. Set in Shamattawa, a remote first nations settlement in northern Manitoba, Canada, Endless Cookie is an animated documentary that pushes boundaries and takes a fearless approach to a niche genre. The animations fall somewhere between Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Adventure Time, with a story loosely based on the life of animator Seth Scriver's half-brother Pete, a member of the indigenous Cree community.
The visual style, hectic pacing and self-reference creates a unique film that either enraptures viewers, or deters them completely. Beneath the psychedelic animated surface, Endless Cookie is a time capsule of an indigenous family living in a remote community, dealing with the fallout of colonisation. It touches on the disproportionate incarceration rates of first nations people, issues with the Canadian justice system, suicide, drug use, the residential school system, land theft and subsequent issues, and the ongoing suppression and loss of indigenous knowledge. Addressing issues which indigenous people around the world can relate to, while leaning into the sense of humour only an indigenous person could appreciate.
As I was leaving the cinema, I overheard a fellow patron complaining about the film being too technically flawed and dragging on. True, this film isn't for everyone – but I don't think it's meant to be. Endless Cookie simultaneously depicts both the pain and beauty of being indigenous. The film is equally absurd as it is real – there is literally one scene where the government-funded film grant money is depicted as stacks of cash burning in Scriver's room. Yes, it lacks structure in parts, could be refined and drags on at times, but I would argue the authenticity is what makes Endless Cookie such a success. / Liam Rātana
Toitū: Visual Sovereignty
If you were living in Auckland in 2021, you will likely have read about the tensions within Toi o Tāmaki Auckland Art Gallery following the incredibly successful Toi Tū Toi Ora exhibition. The exhibition's curator, Nigel Borrell, made his resignation from the gallery public after its launch, citing irreconcilable differences with the gallery's director, Australian Kirsten Lacy. The resignation led to a number of gallery staff raising concerns about cultural safety within the gallery and Lacy's leadership specifically.
All the while, director Chelsea Winstanley was documenting everything. In Toitū: Visual Sovereignty, viewers are taken behind the scenes of the exhibition as it is planned, commissioned, created and launched. Between the beautiful observations of Māori artists executing their centrepieces for the exhibition are peppered Zoom call recordings and interviews that show the tedious work of walking someone – in this case an evidently stubborn Lacy – through a cultural education.
The recordings give vital context to the news reports of 2021, with the gallery's Māori advisory board members attempting to negotiate with Lacy as she proposes (seemingly) well-intentioned but ill-advised cultural programmes and meetings alone with iwi leaders. In the documentary, they serve as a strange meta narrative as a landmark Māori exhibition celebrating Māori art sovereignty is laid on the foundations of the very opposite.
Despite the struggle to launch the exhibition Borrell conceived of, Toi Tū Toi Ora was the most popular exhibition at the gallery since Te Māori 30 years earlier (itself deeply underestimated as an attraction).
In a further meta narrative, the documentary – with a known director and a much-talked-about Māori subject – strangely premiered at SkyCity cinema (sold out) rather than at the much nicer Civic Theatre, where it would have likely still sold out. Both Auckland and Wellington screenings sold out early and further two screenings were added in Auckland, which also sold out in a day. / Madeleine Chapman
Splitsville
Promoted as 'the funniest film at Cannes', Splitsville had perfect programming with its single screening being on a Friday night. Workmates were there after a few Friday drinks, and more than a few friend groups were already rowdy by the time the movie started. Thankfully, Splitsville matched the mood. A deeply silly comedy about two couples who experiment with open relationships, to endlessly disastrous effect.
I was surprised by the relentless nature of the gags. Nearly every sentence had a set-up and punchline, not to mention the healthy dose of physical comedy (yes you will see a full penis on more than one occasion). It reminded me of comedies of old like Airplane! and Ghostbusters where there's no silence or reprieve. In a nearly full Civic Theatre, that meant an extremely lively screening (a delightful break from stereotypical film fest fare) but it did make me feel as though I was watching a comedy-by-numbers and everyone was dutifully playing along.
Was the movie itself any good? I think it was fine. Not a comedy-comedy enough to warrant rewatching for laughs, but not emotionally complex enough to rewatch for feeling. Dakota Johnson, as always, was more interesting than her muted character was allowed to be. / Madeleine Chapman
Blue Moon
About 10 minutes into Blue Moon, my partner Joe leaned over and whispered four words that would age beautifully over the near-perfect 100 minute runtime: 'Ethan Hawke Oscar movie.' The latest collaboration between director Richard Linklater and Hawke (Before Sunrise, Before Midnight, Before Sunset, Boyhood), Blue Moon is set within the four walls of a party in 1943. Hawke plays the deeply charming yet hugely washed-up alcoholic songwriter Lorenz Hart, who is forced to swallow a huge rat at the opening night party for Oklahoma!, the latest smash hit for his former creative partner Richard Rogers (of Rogers and Hammerstein fame).
Following Hart through the party as he waxes lyrical about the nature of fame, art, friendship and love to whoever will listen, all the while trying to woo his new (totally disinterested) muse Elizabeth and patch up his relationship with Rogers, I promise you this film isn't anywhere near as insufferable as the premise sounds. With a star-studded cast including Margaret Qualley, Andrew Scott and Bobby Cannavale, and fun winky appearances from E.B. White and a young Stephen Sondheim, Blue Moon has all the giddy nostalgia of Midnight in Paris, anchored by an unrelenting sadness about what happens when your time in the spotlight runs out. / Alex Casey
Workmates
Workmates is pitched as a 'romantic dramedy', which is a sign that it's perhaps not quite as cheerful as a rom com. It's filmed in the Basement Theatre, about a very Basement-esque institution called the Crystal Ballroom. Sophie Henderson and Matt Whelan play Lucy and Tom, the theatre's co-operators, who are very clearly in love. Though they've worked together for years, and Tom is Lucy's emergency contact, they haven't told each other their feelings for unclear reasons. Tom has a pregnant girlfriend who is the most chill person in the world, but the movie is uninterested in establishing why they're together. Set almost entirely in a 100-metre radius of downtown Auckland, Workmates feels claustrophobic at times; I wished the characters had had space to have some personality or context outside the theatre. The choice to have Lucy, a professional white woman, sleeping in the theatre and functionally homeless also seemed a little tone-deaf. On the whole, though, Workmates makes something beautiful out of the rarely-glamorous work of arts administration, showing why it's so important that creative spaces thrive. / Shanti Mathias