The 42nd Vancouver International Film Festival (VIFF) presented a cornucopia of Canadian, Indigenous and International cinema from September 28 to October 8, 2023. The thoughtfully curated list consisting of movies, documentaries, short films and live events had local cinephiles spoiled for choice. I watched close to 25 movies (yes, that was bucketloads of popcorn) which exposed me to a delightful spectrum of ideas, languages and artistic expressions, leaving me utterly mesmerized. From the eclectic selection, some similarity in themes also emerged. I aim to expand upon the common threads in my reviews.
Wild Swans
While leafing through the program, I noticed how this time around, there were not very many feature films from India. Among the scarce pickings, I noticed a Bodo language feature film, “Wild Swans (Gorai Phakhri)”, directed by Rajani Basumatary. Another movie, Laetitia Colombani’s “The Braid (La Tresse)”, showcased a pluralistic story with part of the plot set in India. Both movies portrayed rural landscapes, local traditions and multi-faceted lives led by ordinary women.
Back in 2019, Rajani Basamutary had directed “Jwlwi – The Seed”, a stoic yet resolute movie about the clash between the state machinery and separatist insurgents in India’s northeastern state of Assam. Her latest venture, “Wild Swans” is an ideological sequence – it is set in the same Bodo community, but tells a new, fictional tale that centers the women survivors of the violence that unfolded in the 1990’s. Plot summary: Preeti (Helina Daimary) is a student of anthropology who resolves to investigate the role of patriarchy in her native community for her thesis. Having migrated to the urban center (Guwahati) one generation ago, she arrives in her ancestral Bodo village with humble curiosity. The Bodo women shower her with love and hospitality and she soon gets integrated into the daily lives of her research subjects. She learns about their daily lives, cultural practices and ingrained patriarchal biases that inform the social fabric of the traumatized community. But she also gleans into the incredible strength of sisterhood that carries the women through life’s trials and tribulations.
The Bodo women lead independent and sustainable lives – fishing, farming and weaving being their primary occupations. The productive activities are performed in communion, lending space for everyone to develop a rooted bond with the land and each other. Men are relegated to the shadows – quite literally there is not a single scene with a male figure). The eerie absences boil down to devastating losses suffered during the insurgency. A few surviving men are rendered incapable of being emotionally present for their families. This leaves a generation of mothers and daughters who are forced by circumstances to pick up the slack and keep the community alive. “Wild Swans” is a simple story that speaks with colorful visuals. While the plot delves into life stories spanning three generations of Bodo women, the camera captures a poetic melange of everyday culture. The tea boils or simmers in harmony with the mood of the scene, the local flora and fauna gently caress the frames. A repeating motif of faceless women riding their bicycles constantly reinforces the reality of the Bodo women driving their own lives and families.
Basamutary is a prodigious cultural worker and a very clever movie-maker. She tackles the turmoils of her characters with profound sensitivity. The dialogues are sometimes a bit terse and contrived. Yet, her approach to filmmaking is very principled. The movie is an outstanding demonstration for getting the anthropological gaze right where Basumatary presents a marginalized community’s culture and traditions with extraordinary insight. Women in conflict zones have a wealth of experience and wisdom. Spotlighting their stories is a gift to the future of humankind.
The Braid
Laetitia Colombani published a bestselling novel, “The Braid” and now she has adapted the story into a feature film. “The Braid” is an episodic plot and follows three strands in different continents. In an Indian state, Uttar Pradesh, Smita (Mia Maelzer) is trying to break away from the generational bondage of Brahmanical caste oppression. She is determined to seek better prospects for her daughter, Lalita (Sajda Pathan). In Italy’s Puglia, Guilia (Fotina Puluso) is forced to confront a family crisis that threatens to break her free-spirit. In Canada’s Montreal, single mother Sarah (Kim Raver) is frantically trying to balance her parenting duties with her demanding career as a corporate lawyer. The three strands weave themselves together as the plot tightens and thickens into a braided reflection on the nuances of women empowerment in varied cultural contexts.
The movie is an immersive experience into how life unfolds for the diverse characters who are spread across the world. As the scenes move from India to Italy to Canada and back again in India, there is a palpable shift in the cinematic currents. From the suffocating pathos of Smita’s village to the romantic ocean view of Guilia’s hometown to the muted, corporate aesthetic of Sarah’s life in Montreal and back to the unrestrained chaos of Indian traffic jams – the camera and sound work deftly transmit the visceral sensations of cultural transplantation.
Colombani has situated her story in the contemporary world where fetishized notions of globalization have lent themselves in favor of North-American capitalist ambitions. In this regard, I perceive the story to be a metaphor for resource extraction and neo-colonialism. Her story-telling is poetic with a studied emphasis on several cultural and faith-based practices related to one’s hair. But the depictions are sometimes quite problematic.
Take Smita’s arc for example: She is subjected to the dehumanizing practice of manual scavenging – a task relegated to her community by the draconian caste system. To escape her oppressive binds, Smita undertakes an arduous journey with her daughter, culminating in a grand display of her faith in Hindu dieties. This, to me, represents an incomplete and outdated caricature of the Dalit experience. Belief in caste is an integral feature of Hindu institutions. In the past century, folks from oppressed castes, led by radical thinkers like Dr. B.R. Ambedkar rejected Hinduism, instead embracing indigenous spiritual practices or other faiths like Buddhism. It is quite inappropriate that Smita and Lalita are made to seek nirvana in a Hindu temple – a bastion of Brahmanism with enforced caste-based segregation.
I have similar apprehensions about the character Kamal (played by Avi Nash) – a Sikh immigrant who falls in love with Guilia. Kamal is erudite, practical and culturally rooted to his Sikh identity. But largely, he is used as an accessory to further Guilia’s character arc. The gaze on his kesh (mane) and kanga (comb) appears quite voyeuristic, to say the least. The representation of Sikhi values and iconography comes across as shallow – especially since the actor himself does not belong to the community.
There is a growing need for storytellers in Europe and America to educate themselves about systemic oppression. Otherwise, they continue being complicit in furthering social inequities in the arts and film industry. Laetitia Colombani might receive brownie points for casting a diverse pool of actors, but her story only aids the orientalist gaze and does very little to challenge dominant structures such as caste, white supremacy and capitalism.
Asog
Climate chaos, loss and grief, disaster capitalism: themes that seemingly don’t lend themselves to comedy. Yet writers Seán Devlin, Jaya and Arnel Pablo have created an inventive ‘docu-dramedy’ film titled “Asog”. Set in the Philippines, all actors in this movie are survivors of the devastating Super Typhoon Haiyan that struck the island nation in 2013.
The semi-fictional plot spotlights the lead pair Jaya (a non-binary teacher/comedian) and Arnel (a former student of Jaya) as they journey through a ravaged country in the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan. Having lost a TV presenter gig and a teaching job, Jaya struggles to make ends meet. Their partner’s disapproval notwithstanding, Jaya decides to participate in a beauty pageant that is happening in the neighboring Sicogon Island. Arnel has lost his mother to the tropical storm and the loss has stranded him in a dark, lonely cocoon. He pines for his absentee father and sets out to meet him. Jaya and Arnel team up on their respective journeys and what ensues is a mesmerizing road trip chock-full of comical rants and philosophical musings that tap into the innate resilience of the land and its people.
“Asog” makes its audience laugh and cry in equal measure. The plot infuses elements of drag, Filipino folklore and magical realism to package a story that expands on numerous themes with deft precision. Jaya’s screen presence forms the soul of “Asog”. Their life story brims with pathos – orphaned during childhood, subjected to brutal transphobia and surviving climate disasters. But they gracefully subvert the victimhood narrative to emerge as a fierce, funny and formidable force of nature. Arnel’s arc is no different. His camaraderie with Jaya is poignant, transgressive and embraces a sense of anarchy, rising spectacularly above mainstream imaginations of trauma and orphanhood.
A passion project such as this cannot be understated for the very real impact it has on everyone who participated in it. The residents of Sicogon Island have suffered great losses since the 2013 Typhoon Haiyan. Two corporations – Sicogon Development Corp (SIDECO) and Ayala Land Inc (ALI) – deceitfully displaced the locals to stake a complete takeover of the island’s land and resources. By featuring the real story of land-grab and an assertive portrayal of people fighting back, “Asog” has forced the above-mentioned corporations to negotiate reparations with the wronged parties. Seán Devlin’s team has also redirected part of the movie-maker funds towards providing internet infrastructure on the island, thus empowering the local population to continue documenting and broadcasting their anti-capitalist struggle.
Seán Devlin is a masterful filmmaker. I can’t wait to witness more such soulful and collaborative ventures which subvert the typically marginalizing narratives imposed upon under-represented populations by American filmmakers.
I am Sirat
Acclaimed movie-maker Deepa Mehta is back with a new project, but this time she relegates herself to the sidelines. Instead, she enables Sirat Taneja, a Punjabi trans woman residing in New Delhi, to share her story with an authentic artistic voice. “I am Sirat” is an autobiographical account that offers a vicarious window into Sirat’s personal and professional life.
When Sirat first expressed her transgender identity with family members, she was subjected to vile abuse and ostracized by her loved ones. For a short while, Sirat found solace in a chosen community of fellow trans folks living by a ritualistic code that entitles them to be known as hijras. Eventually though, Sirat decided to bow out of the rigid lifestyle and moved back in with her aging mother.
Unfortunately, India’s queerphobic and patriarchal society has compelled Taneja to live a double life. She puts on a ‘manly’ appearance in order to not upset her mother, extended family and religious elders. But this does not stop her from being her true self in other spheres. Her identity is accepted, even celebrated by her friends, co-workers, acquaintances and social media followers. The movie makes its audiences sit with the weight of Sirat’s unfulfilled dreams and disappointments. However, Sirat refuses to glorify the ideological violence dominating her life, instead she makes us empathize with her by foregrounding her strengths – emotional honesty and Bollywood drag.
Most scenes are in portrait mode since they were shot by Sirat on her smartphone. The protagonist wields complete narrative agency, she even provides a meta-commentary on the power of first-person narratives while centering trans people’s experiences. The medley of Instagram reels, vlog-style dynamic footage shot with a smartphone’s front camera symbolize a queering of the documentary medium that is refreshingly authentic. This cements Deepa Mehta’s reputation as an actor’s director – she has not tampered much with post-production techniques to finesse the video or audio quality. This enables Sirat’s story to shine through as the only relevant take-away. No doubt, everyone is bound to fall in love with Sirat’s vivacious charm and embodiment of queer resilience.
Orlando, My Political Biography
Almost a century ago, British novelist and acclaimed feminist Virginia Woolf toyed around with aristocratic notions of gender roles and binaries in her novel, “Orlando: A Biography”. Over the decades, this seminal work has become a muse for academics, art critics, artists and media creatives – giving rise to countless graduate theses, operas, plays, comics and film adaptations of the fictional tale. Philosopher and trans activist Paul B. Preciado has breathed fresh life into the satirical novel in his debut documentary film titled, “Orlando, My Political Biography”.
Woolf’s novel featured a protagonist, Orlando, who led a fascinating life – traveling to exotic places as an aristocrat, spouting poetic verses and miraculously flitting through three centuries without aging past their thirties. One of the most commented upon aspects of the novel happens to be Orlando’s non-conformance to strict gender binaries after a fantastical sex transition. In addition, Woolf’s characterization of Orlando’s various diplomatic assignments and affluent lifestyle served as a scathing critique of British Imperialism.
Much like the original work, Preciado’s documentary takes on an esoteric, satirical tone. This enables the documentary to parody some aspects of Woolf’s novel without undermining its inherent radical message. In a quest to recreate a contemporary narrative, the film features autobiographical accounts of 27 trans and non-binary people of various ethnicities and age groups. About 21 of them are ‘Orlandos’: they read Orlando’s lines from the novel and situate their own stories by drawing amusing parallels. It soon becomes clear that there can be no definitive version of Orlando; the trans and non-binary experience emerges from a collective tapestry of multiple, unique yet intersectional realities. Woolf’s fictional Orlando transitioned to a new sex during an undisturbed beauty sleep. But alas, the present day Orlandos are trapped in foreboding clinical sessions with psychiatrists ordaining their viability for gender transition. Fictional Orlando exercised their diplomatic privileges to visit and explore faraway lands and cultures. The present day Orlandos juxtapose this by staging scenes of ordinary trans folk who wish to travel and stay at exotic destinations, exposing the legal hassles they are forced to confront. Preciado’s autobiographical anecdotes further accentuate the documentary’s intent and philosophical fervor.
Public discourse on topics like gender and sexuality can be polarizing and fraught with misguided assumptions. For those among us who inhabit the Orlandesque experience, the lines between discourse and practice are often blurred – with dominant public attitudes dictating their mental and physical well-being. “Orlando, My Political Biography” dares to overturn such unwarranted external scrutiny into a radical piece of artistic inquiry. Instead of delving into distracting nitty-gritties, the documentary spotlights the ongoing revolution of gender-fuckery by playfully curating real stories using a modernist aesthetic befitting all the trans & non-binary kings and queens.
The Monk and the Gun
“The Monk and the Gun” is Bhutanese director Pawo Choyning Dorji’s sophomore venture. It is a fictional tale about the region’s collectivist ethos inspired by Buddhism. Set in the year 2006, the story unravels in an idyllic village located at the foothills of the mighty Himalayas. The elaborate plot consists of three equally absurd storylines – a Buddhist monk asks his disciple to fetch him a gun in time for the approaching full moon night; a young travel guide leaves behind his ailing wife to serve an American tourist who is on a dubious quest; a dedicated government servant arrives in a village to educate the locals about representative democracy. All of this occurs in the midst of Bhutan’s peaceful transition into democracy.
The movie unfolds like a guided meditation session – where the seemingly plain and simple-minded characters offer us much to contemplate on. The plot cleverly imports American symbols such as liberal democracy, Hollywood action flicks and guns as pedagogical tools to highlight the pitfalls of individualism and material greed. The scenic backdrop of Bhutan and the community’s rooted lifestyle profoundly enhance the meandering tale’s narrative impact.
I grew up watching American movies that heralded notions of individual liberty and American exceptionalism. The adrenaline-driven, macho and white-centric stories sometimes felt condescending, even jingoistic. It was an absolute delight to watch “The Monk and the Gun” here in Vancouver. The cinema hall was filled with appreciative chuckles and meditative sighs. Dorji is a masterful storyteller, who delivers hard-hitting moral capsules with humor and grace.
The Mission
While most movies at VIFF are independent, small-scale productions, “The Mission” (co-produced by National Geographic Films) seems a curious choice. The documentary film is about a Christian missionary (John Chau) who went on a death mission to a remote island in India. Back in 2019, John Chau’s story had gone viral on social media platforms. The rush to capitalize on the sensational story left no stone unturned – the personal, sociological and even philosophical aspects of Chau’s foolhardy quest to “spread the Gospel of Christ in the last stronghold of Satan” became fodder for memes, opinion pieces and investigative reports. “The Mission” is a scaled-up effort to compile all these aspects into a repackaged infotainment format that National Geographic productions are known for.
The documentary uses an array of formats – animated sequences overlaid with readings from Chau’s journal entries, interview clips of Chau’s friends, acquaintances and subject matter experts, screenshots of Chau’s social media posts and nostalgic montages of settler-colonial classics such as “Robinson Crusoe”, “A Cry in the Wild (Hatchet)”, “End of the Spear” and the original “King Kong”. While Chau’s family shied away from featuring in the documentary, his father Patrick obliged the filmmakers with a long letter. Read by an orator, Patrick’s words lend a surprisingly rational and poignant context to his son’s radical fanaticism. If you are the kind of person that gets engulfed in internet rabbit holes after reading a wild news story, “”The Mission” will make for a compelling watch.
The documentary goes to great lengths to humanize Chau by charting a convincing biography of the sensitive, compassionate, God-loving and nature-loving, travel enthusiast. It delivers a mild sermon on the complicity of media, Christian forums on the internet and evangelical culture in general. But I doubt if it adds anything new to the prevalent discourse.
Everything we learn about Chau’s childhood and his flair for adventure was made public knowledge by media reports back in 2019. The fact that western media, academia and Christian missionaries have a terrible reputation in understanding Indigenous communities is not a revelation, either. One of the experts interviewed, T.N Pandit, squarely calls out establishments such as National Geographic in misrepresenting and fetishizing the notion of making first contact with “uncivilized” tribes. Sadly, the makers of “The Mission” have not demonstrated an ability to reflect on the criticism in their story-telling practices. They continue to harbor a perverse gaze towards the aboriginals, regurgitating stock footage of isolated communities located in Brazil and Asia Pacific regions that reinforce colonial stereotypes. Despite pontificating on the problems caused by ‘explorer’ themed pop-culture portrayals, there is an animated sequence depicting John Chau’s life as a modern-era Tintin escapade. While mildly tutting at the Messiah Complex inherent in evangelical ventures, the documentary aids in deifying Chau’s personality. Contrast this with American media’s coverage of misguided youth who join Islamic radical groups such as ISIS. Like most white-washed media. “The Mission” shies away from examining dominant cultural factors (i.e, white supremacy, toxic masculinity) and how they might have affected a racialized American teenager to commit to the seemingly heroic quest.
“The Mission” premiered at VIFF on September 30th – designated as ‘National Day for Truth and Reconciliation”. In the aftermath of chilling revelations related to child abuse and cultural genocide perpetuated by White Catholic missionaries in Canada, this holiday is intended to honor Indigenous perspectives and reflect on the ongoing harms caused by colonization and imperialism; not to platform outdated perspectives that prioritize sensational coverage of personal profiles over pertinent evaluation of systemic evils.
– Annapoorna Shruthi