Firmly established yet never less revolutionary, the Festival du nouveau cinéma continues the quality work it has pioneered since 1971
Here are our quick reviews of this year's films!
Man On Wire (dir. James Marsh)
* * * 1/2
Through an artful blend of staged reenactments and archival footage, James Marsh has assembled a compelling look at Philippe Petit, a mischievous high-wire artist who performed a series of breathtaking wire walks, culminating in his walk between the two towers of the World Trade Center in 1974. Much of the film is focused on the mechanics of pulling off the stunt - an act compared to an elaborate bank heist, complete with a motley crew of like-minded conspirators. The film gets a lot of deserving traction out of the idea that it is necessary to circumvent society to create true moments of beauty. Petit's work is indeed beautiful - only a hardened cynic could look upon his midair grace and not be moved - but Marsh doesn't idealize his subject, refusing to gloss over a key moment of betrayal that is at once tragically in-character and completely callous. As it turns out, however, Petit's art is far larger than his hubris, and we can only delight in witnessing his accomplishments.
She's a Boy I Knew (dir. Gwen Haworth)
* * *
After a shaky start, She's a Boy I Knew emerges as a keenly felt doc on the consequences of replacing one person with another. Director Haworth charts her progress from her life as a handsome young man named Steve to her new life as Gwen by interviewing those closest to her at length. The first twenty minutes are messy, with Haworth's narration feeling overly present, suffocating the opinions of her external subjects. Over time, however, her grip loosens, and the film explores tricky emotional ground, particularly when we spend time with Malgosia, Gwen's beguiling ex-wife, who admits both her initial anger towards Gwen (then Stephen) for her decision, and later confesses her diminishing sexual interest, finding herself unable to convince herself of the "superficiality" of Gwen's changing body in the face of the still-present "essence" of the person she loves. There's also a lingering sense of heartbreak in scenes with Gwen's tight-lipped Mountie father, who looks for clues in his parentage as to how his son may have gone "astray" - yet simultaneously recognizes something in Gwen that he himself withheld in his youth. Through it all, Haworth exhibits a sense of inclusiveness, fleshing out their histories as well as her own, always seeking to empathize even when there is a lack of mutual understanding. I could have done without the animated segments, but they're brief, and are made up for with the inclusion of some surprisingly frank images of Gwen's post-op transformations - an important inclusion, reminding us that the ignominy that may come with her emerged gender awareness is hardly the only trial she faces.
