Adam Ryan writes about his experience at his first Minicine screening back in January. This review is clearly quite late in going up, but it’s been a matter of finding an appropriate time to post it. Image is taken from the cake created for the evening by Tasha McKenny, which is themed on the film.
As a declaration of transparency, the keen detectives amongst you will realise that I, Mike McKenny, the editor of this film section of Culture Vulture, am the director of Minicine. I would like to think though, that there is no bias in this review of the evening and Adam’s write-ups of the films are the main emphasis here. We are keen at Minicine for the films we show to receive as much feedback as possible, particularly the short films that are so frequently underserved in an exhibition context. If you don’t believe Adam about how wonderful Minicine is, well you’ll just have to get down to a screening to see for yourself ;).
Having resided at the ‘wrong side’ of the Pennines for four Cornerhouse filled years – in the process picking up a quick degree – I returned to West Yorkshire to find a healthy cinema culture thriving across the region. As a long time ‘Media Museumite’ I was pleasantly surprised at the range of local events on offer to whet the appetite of a self-confessed cinephile like myself: ‘Screen Seven’ at the Seven Arts Club, ‘Calverley Community Cinema’ at St. Wilfred’s Church, regular screenings at the Howard Assembly Room, a whole host of high and low profile festivals and, I’m sure, a great number that have totally passed me by. In the midst of all this activity, I began to hear murmurings; of an event that exhibited the cream of unknown cinema, of an event housed in the walls of an intimate venue steeped in local history, of an event that even supplies each audience member with not just tea and coffee but also – wait for it – cake! Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, Minicine.
Appallingly it took me nearly a year to finally attend. It was worth the wait. I had seen Armley Mills’ Palace Picture House a number of years previous on a visit to the museum, but somewhere along the way had forgotten just how much character it possessed – charm literally radiates from the candle-lamp lined walls. The ambience was no less warm, as people casually mingled, helping themselves to the aforementioned tea and cake to create an unabashedly friendly buzz, with none of the ‘cliqueiness’ film societies can, at times, possess. I felt well and truly at ease as I took my seat to start the proceedings.
The first piece of the night was a short entitled Symmetry (Everynone, 2011). Presented in split screen it depicts a number of image pairings that bear some relationship to each other. These largely consist of binary opposites (e.g. cat and mouse, beginning and end) logical pairings (such as chips and ketchup), and – in my opinion the most effective shots of the whole film- a number of interactive couplets: a husband and wife from different locations kiss, two twins swap sides of the frame and a seismometer reading seemingly powers a wave’s momentum. For all its conceptual promise I found the juxtapositions just too obvious to really generate the heart-warming effect it was obviously striving for, while the soundtrack and overall aesthetic were just a little too twee for my inclination.
At the other end of the scale of emotional response, the second short, Un Tour de Manege (Alexis Liddell, 2011), touched me in all the right places. The film is essentially an animated exploration of the joys, and fears, of childhood. Wrapped up in a very French sensibility, the animation style is endearing without being sickly and displays a surprising diversity for such a short film. Its colour palette ranges from vibrant, melodramatic rainbow shades that put Douglas Sirk to shame, right through to ominous greys and blacks a la Sylvain Chomet – Belleville Rendezvous (2003), The Illusionist (2010)- while the striking, and at times abstract, compositional style exhibits more than a passing resemblance to Stan Brakhage-esque experimental animation. The score beautifully mirrors the visuals, emphasising the mood without being overly prescriptive, while a few well-placed flourishes of ambient noise such as the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps, the creak of a boat and particularly the gentle splash of lake-water trigger the recollection of fond memories of childhood and beyond, at once personal and universal.
After the shorts I was well and truly fired up for the feature. Canada, and Quebec in particular, is not a national cinema I am at all familiar with so – anorak that I am- I was naturally buzzing with the excitement that comes on the verge of charting unknown territory. While it may not have been as revelatory as I anticipated, C.R.A.Z.Y (2005) was nevertheless an extremely enjoyable introduction to the world of Quebecian film. A family drama in the spirit of North American Indie cinema, the film follows the trials and tribulations of ‘gifted’ Zac Beaulieu and his family. Using his birth on Christmas Day 1960 as a starting point we follow him through his younger years as he struggles against a motley bunch of siblings, hyper-heterosexual father and mollycoddling mother, all the time dealing with the pressures of sexuality, creativity and individuality.
There is more than a passing likeness here to the novels of John Fante: the talented but misunderstood central character, devout catholic mother, taunting siblings and emotionally restricted/restrictive – but by no means unlikeable- father all contribute to this sense. Like Fante, director Jean-Marc Vallée manages to tackle some fairly weighty issues (such as homosexuality, religion, birth, death, drug/alcohol abuse, nature vs. nurture etc.), all the while delivering more than a handful of laughs. Although homosexuality is the most prominent theme, it is very much contextualised within an atmosphere of intense religiosity, the image of the crucifix ever present, casting an ominous eye over the characters and positioning the audience under its watchful gaze.
Equally pervasive is the tour de force Rock ‘n’ Roll soundtrack. The sounds of Pink Floyd, Willie Nelson, The Cure, Elvis and David Bowie, to name but few, grant the film with an iconic, postmodern quality. This, the indulgent – but never gratuitous- stylisation and a healthy spattering of musical-montage sequences borrow heavily from Martin Scorsese circa Goodfellas (1990), without the film ever losing its own unique character; on the contrary, such an influence only serves to enhance its postmodernist pleasures. Paradoxically however it is this sort of inter-textual playfulness that stopped me truly delighting at the film. There’s a fine line to be drawn between tongue-in-cheek fun and whimsy: C.R.A.Z.Y, I’m afraid to say, crosses the latter line just a little too often, hindering the attainment of truly complex, realistic characters, making it hard to relate to them in any meaningful way.
That said however, this was nonetheless an intensely enjoyable evening. My hat goes off to Woody (Twitter: @MawScrawl) and Jamie (Twitter: @Jamie_McHale) for the programme, plainly chosen with a huge amount of love, and to Mike (Twitter: @DestroyApathy) for the night itself. In these turbulent times, with the ever increasing threat of social alienation promising to place the proverbial wedge amongst even the closest knit communities, we need local events like this to keep us in touch with our natural, social urges. I am very happy to be able to say that, in this respect, Minicine has very much set the standard.
See how these films fared in Minicine’s audience ratings.
Minicine’s upcoming monthly screening at Armley Mills on the 22nd March is currently sold out, but stay tuned on their Facebook page, Twitter feed or e-mail minicine@live.co.uk with the subject MAILING LIST, to find out the most up to date information, including tickets becoming available closer to the screening.
Tickets are still available for Minicine’s events at the start of April. Minicine presents Cine-Polskie, a whole day of Polish cinema on the 7th April, and Minicine’s Mini-Bloodbath, an evening of cult horror on the 4th April.
Mike McKenny is The Culture Vulture’s film editor. If you have any film related stories, articles, reviews with a twist, etc, contact him on mike.mckenny1983@gmail.com or find him on Twitter @DestroyApathy