THE MAINE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL
2005 DIARY

By Laurie Meunier Graves

DAY 1

“Maybe we can think of Waterville as a Paris on the Kennebec.”
—Alan Sanborn, in his introduction to Tony Gatlif’s movie Exile

Paris on the Kennebec. I have to admit that I have never thought of Waterville in quite this way, and I expect most of Waterville’s Franco-American residents, with their concern about speaking “bad French,” haven’t either. When Alan made that comment about Paris on the Kennebec, it was in reference to the director Tony Gatlif, with whom Railroad Square Cinema has had business relations. He would love to have Gatlif come to the Maine International Film Festival, but Gatlif apparently doesn’t want to come because he doesn’t speak English. Sanborn is hoping to entice Gatlif to come by calling Waterville “Paris on the Kennebec.”

Like most of the world, and, indeed our own country, Gatlif doesn’t realize that Maine has so many residents of French descent that they are almost not a minority. And, while French is not spoken as often in Waterville as it once was, many of the residents still consider French their first language, even if they do refer to it as “bad French.” (Meaning it’s not Parisian.) I wonder, would Tony Gatlif, who lives in Paris, consider it bad French?

Even though it’s a bit of stretch (all right, a big one), “Waterville, Paris on the Kennebec” does have a nice ring. Gone are most of the big brick mills by the Kennebec river, which was once so dirty that to see fish in it was a minor miracle. Now, the fish are back, and the eagles and the ospreys have returned as well. The river, at least to some extent, has rebounded.

And what of Waterville’s fortunes? On opening night of the festival, Clif and I head to the Bread Box Café on Main Street in Waterville. We get there early, at 5:00 P.M., and meet cinéastes Joel and Alice Johnson for a prefestival kick-off. As I sip my chocolate martini and eat hot bread dipped in oil and spices, I look out the window and see the street filled with people going to the film festival. By six o’clock, Bread Box Café is full, and there is a waiting line.

When I was a child growing up in Waterville, there were plenty of jobs but not much art. Now, there is more art but not many jobs. How to combine the two? As I finish my chocolate martini, I decide to leave this matter for another day. The film festival is about to begin, and it’s time to turn my attention to movies.

In a complete break with tradition, Clif and I decide not to go to the opening ceremonies at the Waterville Opera House and instead go to Railroad Square Cinema to see Exiles by Tony Gatlif and then The Barn by Steffan Boje. We’ve never missed the opening ceremonies, and it does seem a little odd not to be there. However, we see plenty of old friends at Railroad Square, and, before long, we are settled in our seats, kicking aside the popcorn that someone has managed to spill on the very first night before the film has even started. (Honest! It wasn’t us!) The lights go out, and the festival begins.

EXILES
France, 2004; 104 minutes; 35mm; in French, Spanish, Arabic, and Romany with English subtitles



“I’m a stranger everywhere.”
—Naimi

The notion of the exile, while not exactly new, has become one of the major issues of our time. More than ever, people in vast numbers are leaving the countries where they were born. Some do it in hopes of earning a better living. Some do it because of war. And some flee repressive regimes. This produces a curious split. Those who leave, or whose parents have left, often do not feel as though they belong in their adopted country. Yet there they are, residents of a new culture, and somehow they have to try to fit in because going back home is usually not an option. For children of exiles, the split is even more profound as they long for the culture that was left behind, one that they just barely remember or never really knew at all but that has been passed down to them nonetheless.

In Exiles, director Tony Gatlif examines all these ideas though the eyes of Naimi and Zano, two scruffy young adults who give new meaning to the word clueless. As far as I can recall, neither Naimi’s nor Zano’s age was mentioned, but judging from the way they look, I would have to say that they are somewhere in their twenties. However, with their impulsive, random actions, they act more like sex-crazed adolescents, and everyone they meet in this road-trip movie seems older than they are, even if they are, in fact, younger. Zano is obsessed with returning to Algeria, where he was born and where his parents lived. Along with him comes the reluctant Naimi, who is of Arab descent but who has adopted the freewheeling Parisian ways of dressing and living. Zano once played the violin, but after his parents’ death, he gave it up, and now, with no parents, no music, and few cultural connections, he is adrift in Paris. Naimi’s story is less clear, but there are hints that she has been abused and has been on her own since she was fourteen.

With inadequate funds and equally inadequate planning, they set off for Algeria. They sneak rides on trains, walk, stow away on a ship, and find plenty of help along the way. Gatlif must have a strong belief in a patron saint for fools because the worst thing that happens to this guileless pair is that one of Zano’s boots gets stolen. Yet, Gatlif’s identification with the hapless Naimi and Zano is so strong that as the movie progresses, we begin to route for them and want them to make it to Algeria. Also, in a nice gender twist, Zano is more faithful, thoughtful, and caring than the self-centered Naimi, who has been on her own from such a young age that she really doesn’t know how to care for anyone but herself. Then there is the cinematography with its focus on the changing landscape, from lush orchards in Spain to the dry landscape of Algeria.

Of course, music is a central feature in any of Tony Gatlif’s films, and Exiles is no exception. The music, ranging from modern to traditional, infuses the film, and I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to suggest that in Gatlif’s world, music is the forces that unites and binds us all together. In Exiles, it is also a redeeming force, and in a scene that seems excruciatingly long, Naimi and Zano take part in a Sufi chant-dance that looks like a cross between an exorcism and a seizure. Yet, as all rituals should, it brings them a measure of illumination. By the end, Naimi and Zano haven’t exactly achieved wisdom, but they certainly know more than they did when they first set out on their journey.

THE BARN
United Kingdom, 2004; 80 minutes; video; in English

1/2

I must admit to being a fan of surrealism and its cousin, theater of the absurd. When it works, it is a potent blend of dreamlike (or nightmarish, depending on your point of view) symbolism that can be moving as well as haunting. When it doesn’t work, it can be any combination of annoying, trite, and tiresome. Unfortunately, The Barn falls into the later category, and it does so because of an inadequate script and amateurish acting.

Two men, who seem to be mob errand-boys of some sort, wind up being beaten by two thugs when the deal mysteriously and inexplicably goes awry. The transaction was taking place in a barn (hence the title), and, after the beating, the thugs leave the two men for dead. The barn, appropriately enough, is a fortress of a structure, and with its barred windows and massive doors, it really does seem like a prison. Unfortunately, after a promising beginning of imagined escapes, the movie really doesn’t go anywhere or offer any profound truths on the absurdity and tragedy of the human condition. One of the men, the curly-haired one, spends most of his time blithering, and his performance is so forced that I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he had flunked Acting 101. The other man, the one with glasses, is a better actor, but he isn’t given much to do except react to the blithering curly-haired bloke. Unlike Guy Ritchie’s feckless but absolutely believable miscreants, neither man in this movie seems like the type to be involved with two thugs and the underworld. The curly-haired man is too brash and immature, and the man with glasses is too reserved and polite. While these traits could go along with a life of crime, neither man is given any other qualities to suggest this is even remotely plausible.

It might seem as though I am making the case for too much consistency in a surreal movie. However, while surrealism (and fantasy) can freely break rules and come up with an alternative reality, there nonetheless must be an internal consistency. More important, the movie should have something to say. It is not enough to watch two men nibble on hay or pile rocks or have a sheep make a sudden appearance. There’s a bit of backstory that comes near the end, but by then it’s too little, too late.  

DAY 2 -->>

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