Locarno festival shows off the film industry’s creativity

By J.W. | LOCARNO

IT IS a hub for films that wear the phrase “art-house” on their sleeve; its entries always test audiences with new forms or new ideas about cinema. Italian films such as Roberto Rossellini’s “Rome, Open City” (1945) have dominated Locarno festival from the start, but German cinema had a major breakthrough in 2006 with public acclaim for “The Lives of Others”. In 2009, Xiaolu Guo, a British-Chinese novelist and film-maker, won that year’s top prize for “She, A Chinese”. Film-makers with a real edge to their work know that Locarno receives them better than almost any other major festival.

This year, Locarno’s 70th edition, was no exception. “Lola Pater”, written and directed by Nadir Moknèche, probes a young man’s relationship with his father Farid, now a transgender woman. Samuel Benchetrit’s “Chien” (“Dog”) follows a man struggling with depression who strives to become a dog (scenes of cruelty both to canines and humans provoked audience walkouts). In “What Happened to Monday?”—a brazen, violence-drenched crowd-pleaser—Noomi Rapace plays seven identical sisters trying to survive under a dystopian regime which strictly enforces a one-child policy.

“Ta peau si lisse” (“A Skin So Soft”) offered an exercise in subverting audience expectations. Though the title sounds suggestive, there’s not an ounce of sexualised flesh in it; the skin in question belongs to six male bodybuilders. Director Denis Côté is not interested in their aestheticism or their nakedness and its homoerotic potential. The film is not even about bodybuilding—no motives are offered for why someone might pump himself full of steroids and build a life around displaying his biceps and abs. There’s no footage of competitions.

Mr Côté instead focuses on the men’s private business and their aspirations. One, a wrestler, is losing his confidence and sulks in front of his wife. Another enjoys a rowdy family life but prefers, because of his demanding diet, to eat his meat in solitude. All six come together on a brief country holiday before taking on a new professional challenge. With the unlikeliest of material, Mr Côté has come up with a film that is both incredibly peculiar and utterly compelling.

Other films went beyond unusual premises to tinker with genre. “As Boas Maneiras” (“Good Manners”) sounds like, and starts off as, an urban comedy. Ana (Marjorie Estiano), a wealthy, pregnant, white woman from São Paulo, is interviewing women as potential nannies. She chooses Clara (Isabél Zuaa), a black care worker from one of the city’s favelas. The film meanders along until Ana invites Clara to have sex, and her eyes ominously change colour. It becomes apparent that she is carrying a child of supernatural lineage.

Marco Dutra and Juliana Rojas, the directors, nod knowingly at “An American Werewolf in London” (1981) as well as “Rosemary’s Baby” (1968), but their unique blend of horror and comedy ensures that this werewolf caper feels totally original. Indeed, “As Boas Maneiras” is arguably better observed than either of those famous predecessors: it went on to win the festival’s special jury prize.

But a stand-out film this year was “Iceman” (pictured), written and directed by Felix Randau. Inspired by “Ötzi”, the body of a 5,300-year-old man discovered in a glacier in the Alps in 1991, the film follows Kelab, a prehistoric chieftain. It is a reminder of our feral European roots; a plunge into the heart of an age of tiny territorial disputes, when men killed other men at the slightest provocation. What sets this film apart from ancient-history dramas such as Mel Gibson’s “Apocalypto” (2006) or the preposterous “One Million Years BC” (1966) is that the dialogue is all conducted in Rhaetic, an extinct language. There are no subtitles.

Rather than being confusing or a distraction, Rhaetic is fascinating to hear. It does not matter that the film lacks this guide as it is easy to discern the plot from the context. Mr Randau’s point is that if a film is well acted and visually arresting—here with an icy Alpine landscape and brutal violence—its events can be told with clarity and intensity. We want Kelab to win, to survive, and the fundamental drive to do that is what makes this innovative and sparse film so absorbing.

Such experimentation is essential to keep cinema from feeling staid and repetitive. Although many of these films will not see a wide release, they are a welcome salve in an era seemingly characterised by reboots and sequels. If the creative spirit on display at Locarno transcended the art-house, it would not be such a bad thing.