March 23, 2013
MARCH 23 — In the mid to late '90s, it was Iran. In the 2000s it was Romania. And for the past few years it looks like South America (with Argentina leading the way) that's going to take over as the new hotbed of cinema. But like all previous hotbeds, the high level of interest in the anointed country's film-making output will inevitably cool down after a number of years, usually five years and 10 at most. It's a game that cinephiles and film geeks the world over have played for decades now. So which country's next?
While I'm sure most casual film fans can associate Iran with Children Of Heaven (which became a worldwide hit, probably not on the same financial level as Cinema Paradiso but definitely on the same emotional level), it is directors like Abbas Kiarostami, Mokhsen Makhmalbaf and Jafar Panahi who made people sit up and take notice with their formally challenging yet playful films.
The same formally challenging yet playful style can be found in breakthrough Romanian films of the 2000s as well, especially The Death Of Mr Lazarescu and 12:08 East Of Bucharest. So in trying to pinpoint the next cinematic hotbed, it's probably not a bad idea to look for these qualities as well.
Some observers have pinpointed Israel as the next hotspot, but this is one blind spot that I'm unlikely to overcome because even one of that country's recent higher profile films — Nadav Lapid's Locarno prizewinner Policeman — failed to secure American or European distribution (and this even after playing at the prestigious New York Film Festival).
So the only way to see these new films from Israel is to order a DVD from there (assuming that it's got English subtitles) and to also hope that the package won't get confiscated once it arrives here in Malaysia, considering our non-existent diplomatic relationship with Israel.
Most everything else from other countries I've seen so, Israel aside, I think I can confidently say that after slowly building up its reputation over the last 10 or so years with works by masters like Pedro Costa and Manoel De Oliveira, it seems like the time has come for Portugal to take over that mantle.
In 2012 alone, there were at least two new Portuguese films that inspired rapturous critical swooning — Joao Pedro Rodriguez and Joao Rui Guerra Da Mata's docu-fiction hybrid The Last Time I Saw Macao and Berlin Film Festival darling (it won two awards) Tabu by Miguel Gomes.
And this doesn't take into account De Oliveira's new film Gebo and the Shadow, which premiered at Venice and another docu-fiction hybrid called Arraianos by Eloy Enciso Chachafeiro.
Rodriguez has been making a name for himself with his last few films, especially the quite extraordinary To Die Like A Man and his debut O Fantasma.
But every hotspot needs a poster boy (like Kiarostami for Iran and Cristi Puiu for Romania) and in Gomes I think Portugal has one who will stand the test of time.
Unlike most heralded new directors who blow their load with a glorious debut film, only to fizzle out as they make more and more films, Gomes' progression is one of constantly upping the ante on his previous films (when the previous films are already spectacular in themselves).
Gomes' under-seen debut The Face Of Another (I had to order the DVD from Portugal) already displayed his facility for playing with film form in ways that are not boring and doesn't call attention to itself, and anyone who loves Jacques Rivette will be transfixed by the film.
But I don't think that striking debut even comes close to preparing viewers for his follow-up, the effortlessly brilliant Our Beloved Month of August, which playfully blends documentary and fiction in quite a daring way, and would normally have no right to be as enjoyable and entertaining as it is.
But his new film Tabu is even more astonishing, and I'm not exaggerating. Arthouse or festival films are not exactly well known for being audience friendly or easy to digest.
But Tabu, despite being a black-and-white film in the boxed full screen Academy ratio of old films and having a bifurcated narrative structure (not to mention being more or less a silent film, supported only by voiceover throughout its second half), is quite simply a film that is really hard to resist.
A meditation on memory and Portuguese colonialism in Africa, framed as a story of forbidden and lost love in those colonial times, the film is impossibly lovely, impossibly moving and will make you swoon.
It is by no means a commercial film, despite the romance and African adventure. It's not even one of those easier to digest European mainstream arthouse films (i.e. arthouse films for people who don't normally like arthouse films) that the French are good at producing.
It's still very much an adventurous and daring film that some people will describe as "difficult", but made more accessible by Gomes' very rare facility for presenting difficult things in an enjoyably playful way.
If this film had been sent to Cannes last year, I've no doubt that it would've been a sensation and would've won the Palme D'Or, no matter how good anyone may think Amour is. But no matter, for Gomes has well and truly arrived, and with a poster boy this damn good (and this much loved), the future looks bright indeed for Portugal.
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
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