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Al-Ahram Weekly 10 - 16 August 2000 Issue No. 494 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 10 - 16 August 2000 Issue No. 494
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Books Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons When the hills are alive
By Lubna Abdel-Aziz
Once a year the sleepy resort of Karlovy Vary comes alive, shedding its generally reserved demeanour in favour of something much more upbeat. Nestled amid panoramic hills, in the heart of Bohemia, it is the venue for one of the Czech Republic's most popular arts events of the year, an international film festival.
A two hour drive from Prague, Carlsbad -- as Karlovy Vary used to be called in Czechoslovakia's pre-communist days -- it has attracted visitors for five centuries, the majority drawn to the town because of the curative powers of its 12 natural springs, by the Roman Baths and the promise of physical therapy and special massages, thermal treatments, walks in the parks and lazy afternoons of rest and recreation in cool pleasant weather. Patronised by successive kings of Bohemia, and a favourite of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV, who reputedly came across its famous mineral springs by chance 500 years ago, it developed into one of Europe's most celebrated spas, a magnet for sufferers from any number of ailments, including gastric and digestive problems, liver and kidney disorders, gout, rheumatism and diabetes.
Come festival time, though -- 6-16 June -- this sedate middle European spa town is transformed. Armies of young men and women invade the town. They come from every corner of the continent and beyond, from Holland, Germany, Italy, France, Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Canada and the US. They travel by plane, train, automobile and on foot, carrying knapsacks on their backs and sleeping bags under their arms. They camp wherever they can, in the parks, along the banks of the river Tepla, in the plazas and by the hotels. Like a swarm of bees, they hover and buzz, their noise unmistakable, their enthusiasm contagious and their youth refreshing. The town comes alive, hopping and bouncing to their music and singing in every square and corner.
The tempo is fast and feverish and the excitement genuine. They converge on Karlovy Vary with one aim -- like me, they have come to see films, and judging by the endless queues at the theatre box office, they are honest to goodness film fans. And this year the festival, celebrating its 35th Anniversary, does not disappoint them. Established in 1946, it is one of the oldest film festivals in existence, continuing in the face of innumerable difficulties, during times of adversity, throughout the communist years, ploughing ahead regardless, ignoring the often embarrassing absence of audiences and not succumbing to the fierce competition from Prague's Golden Film Festival. Resilient to the end, the event has survived to emerge as one of Europe's most prestigious film festivals, ranked up there with Cannes, Berlin, and Venice.
Besides a newly developed Crystal Globe award, designed especially for the year 2000, the festival offers 300 films and 50 documentaries from over 60 countries, screened in 19 different categories. Along with the films came 750 members of the press, and more than 3,000 film-makers -- producers, directors, writers, editors, distributors, wheeler-dealers, buyers, sellers, punctuated by an occasional international star. The lack of star power and glitter does not obviously dampen the spirits of the young crowds. Far from it -- while the sight of a glamorous star might send them into a frenzy, they are quite happy feasting on the films themselves, and judging from the full-houses of the 33 films I attended, they were more than satisfied.
The opening night displayed more pomp and circumstance than a British royal wedding as the festival's guests -- among which I was privileged to be numbered -- were driven to the Theatre's Grand Hall in horse-drawn carriages. The crowds cheered when they saw the likes of Eli Wallach, Edward Norton and Franco Nero walk up the red carpet and into the theatre.
Following the opening night ceremonies the festival paid special tribute to director Vera Chytilova, an icon of Czech cinema. Her provocative themes brought endless persecution at the hands of the communist regime, yet despite this tyranny she remained steadfast, faithfully serving her art and principles.
The film selection for the first night was the charming Norwegian-British co-production, Aberdeen, starring Stellan Skarsgaard of Sweden, and Ian Hart and Lena Headey from Britain. Everyone predicted a very promising future for Lena, who is as enchanting as she is talented.
After the glamour and excitement of opening night I planned my itinerary to allow the opportunity to see as many films as possible. With pen, programme and notes in hand, I scurried from theatre to theatre, undertaking a valuable crash course in international cinema, ricocheting between Bosnia and Brazil, Korea and Poland, Ireland and India, and almost everywhere between. Cinema in Uzbekistan? It may not reach Cairo, or suburban America, but it exists. The latest Bulgarian films, ditto.
The Grand Jury was as variedly cosmopolitan as the entries. Chaired by the award-winning Iranian film-maker Abbas Kiorostani, it seemed at first glance that the jury was determined to present prizes for effort rather than merit. The names of some of the winners, I confess, elicited a wince or two but after giving the matter some thought I came to see their point of view. Where else is Bosnia-Herzegovina going to be recognised for its efforts at breaking into the motion picture industry? Such films are unlikely to receive commercial distribution or wide recognition, and it is only in a festival such as this that we can be alerted to these struggling efforts.
So, though predictable, the prizes were pleasing. At closing night, which surpassed opening night in spectacle, the Life Achievement Award went to the great Spanish film-maker Carlos Saura, who impressed the audience with his extreme modesty and dignity. The Grand Prix for best picture was sent to Brazil for Eu, tu, eles (Me, you, them), directed by Andrucha Waddington. Best director award went to the Croatian Vinko Brezan for Marshall Tito; best actress to Regina Case for the Brazilian entry; best actor was split between Ian Hart of Great Britain for Aberdeen, and Hamid Faroukhnezad for the Iranian entry Arous El-Atash (Bride of Fire). The special jury award went to The Yellow Bride from Azerbajian, directed by Yaver Kzayev; the visual poetry of the film, and its insistent optimism in the face of poverty and seemingly unending conflict struck a strong chord with the jury. Special mention went to the Indian entry Paromitar Ek Din (The House of Memories), directed by Aparna Sen who, incidentally, was as member of the jury at the 1999 Cairo Film Festival.
Clockwise: Lena Headey in Aberdeen; Carlos Saura, winner of the Lifetime Achievement award; Lubna Abdel-Aziz with Mahmoud Hemeida
So the jury achieved that impossible task, sending almost everyone home happy. But what of Egyptian films?
Well, there was one. Egypt, which had no film in competition this year, was represented in the Another View category by Gannet Al-Shayatin (Fallen Angels' Paradise). Actor-producer Mahmoud Hemeida was on hand for the screening of his picture and was warmly received by both Czech and Arab audiences, drawing crowds wherever he went.
If I were in charge of the handing out of bouquets, or in this case crystal globes, I would have surely given one to Yoyes, the Spanish entry. It tells the story of the first woman to join ETA, the Basque separatist movement. Brave, bold, and well-conceived, its director Helena Taberna showed great courage in making it. It is a woman's picture, strong, patriotic and family-oriented, and wrapped in a tender love story. Nora, another favourite of mine, is the remarkable directorial debut of Ireland's Pat Murphy, and plots the life-long love affair between James Joyce and his wife, whose name provides the film's title.
Even at the rate of three films a day I barely covered 10 per cent of the 300 films and 50 documentaries on offer. All were carefully selected by Eva Zarailova, artistic director of the festival and described by the president, Jiri Barstoky, as the terra firma on which the festival stands. She viewed every film, watched over every detail, solved every problem, and answered every question, a paragon of organisational and administrative panache.
Among the festival's most significant screenings, Dancer in the Dark, winner of the Palme D'or at Cannes 2000, embodies at least one of the new trends that points to the future of international cinema. The Dane, Lars Von Trier, is one of Dogma's leading lights -- shunning the multi-million dollar Hollywood special effects extravaganza in favour of an accessible, low-tech approach. Hand held video cameras follow the action, and the stress is on the immediacy of both thought and emotion. Shunning the contrived trappings of carefully constructed, digitally enhanced settings, the technique gained exposure with the success of the faux-documentary The Blair Witch Project, whose young, unknown actors carry their own cameras as the audience joins them in a simultaneous exploration of the horrors that lie ahead. Raw and real, the film induces more terror than the high-tech trickology that has come to dominate the genre can hope to generate.
This year's entries in the festival neatly underlined several major international trends, sounding a funeral knell over the days of single producer, single studio, or even single country production. The era of co-productions, it seems, has well and truly arrived.
Women directors, too, are increasingly gaining prominence. Of the 17 films in competition, five were the work of women.
And Cinema Purité, an offshoot of Cinema Verité, is emerging as a powerful force in international cinema. Ironically, it is the technological advances of recent years -- lighter but increasingly sophisticated cameras -- that has allowed a new wave of directors to challenge the prevailing, hi-tech gloss of the commercial block-buster. Rather than having the action staged in front of the camera, the camera can now follow the action and actors with a spontaneity that is rewriting the visual vocabulary of film.
Ten solid days of cinema came too quickly to a regrettable end, leaving me both tired and refreshed. And all that without the mineral springs and curative waters, the Roman baths and walks through the park.
