THE MAINE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL 2004 Diary

By Laurie Meunier Graves

DAY 5

Today, we are at the halfway point, and it is time to face facts. I have only seen thirteen movies in five days, and I very much doubt that I will make it to my original goal of thirty-six by the end of the festival. Yesterday, I realized who the true Lance Armstrongs of the film festival are—Betty-Jean, Lynn, and Pat. Nevertheless, I deal bravely with this disappointing realization and start the evening by going to The Bread Box Café in Waterville for dinner. I begin with a chocolate martini, proceed to warm fragrant bread dipped in olive oil, cheese, and herbs, and finish with tangy apricot and ginger shrimp over rice. By the end of this fine meal, my disappointment is forgotten. As a bonus, I discover what I have come to call “good art in unexpected places.” At the Café, there is an exhibit of terrific black-and-white landscape photographs taken by Jeff Lucas of Clinton, Maine. These crisp, austere pictures capture the essence of Maine in a way that color photographs often do not, and the emphasis on patterns and form gives a pleasing order to a world that is far from orderly. The photographs will be there until the end of July. This means you still have time to go to the Café, have a wonderful meal, look at some good art, and perhaps even buy one of the photographs.

Tonight, there is definitely something strange in the air at Railroad Square Cinema. Is it midfestival fatigue? Is it the curse of the spurned Film Goddess, angry at being replaced by the straw volcano? We will never know, but a series of events come together to leave the frazzled staff shaking their heads in bewilderment. First, Kabhi Khushi Kahbie Gham (K3G) sails to the end without its promised intermission. With a running time of three and a half hours, this is not trivial. Trying to miss as little of the film as possible, disgruntled filmgoers race to the bathroom and to the concession stand, and then back to the movie. Next, a visiting filmmaker rushes from a showing of his movie, waving his hands and ranting about how the Canadians sabotaged his film. (Perhaps he has watched the South Park movie one too many times?) Finally, minutes later, an explosive sound comes from little cinema three, and someone comes running out holding what looks like a DVD player. In the lobby, this sound hurt our ears. I can only imagine what it felt like to those in the cinema. Indeed, when the filmgoers come out, they have a dazed look and are shaking their heads.

In truth, with all the different film and video formats and all the different personalities, it’s amazing this sort of thing doesn’t happen more often. As a rule, the film festival runs smoothly. However, even during the roughest times, the staff remains good natured and even serene, taking what comes in stride and finding answers to the various problems.

TUSSENLAND
Netherlands, 2002; 92 minutes; 35mm; in Dutch and Dinka with English subtitles



Culture is powerful but misleading. Its influence is undeniable, and only a fool would say there’s no difference between, say, an American and a Thai. However, we tend to think that culture is the be all end all and that being an American or a Thai is, as Robertson Davies would say, bred in the bone. Not only is this false—babies who are adopted from one culture by parents from another culture belie the bred in the bone theory—but it also tends to obscure the fact that there are human issues and concerns that apply to everyone, no matter where they were born. Set in the Netherlands, Tussenland is a movie that beautifully evokes this universality, following the lives of two very different men, one old and one young, one Dutch and the other Sudanese.

Jakob is a Dutch octogenarian who brings new meaning to the word “cranky.” His face is as rough as the underside of a barnacle-encrusted ship, and each line seems to be a mark of the disappointment and alienation he feels. His wife has just died, and he is somewhat estranged from his daughter, whom he hasn’t seen in twenty years, but who nevertheless regularly sends him tapes from her home in either Australia or New Zealand. (I didn’t catch where she was living, but the children's’ accents sounded Australian.) Jakob spends his days playing checkers with himself, fighting with his neighbors as he throws stones at their cat, and getting on the nerves of his only friend, Koos. Yet, we can’t help but feel sorry for Jakob. The death of his wife has left him adrift, and at his age, a new start seems out of the question. Jakob’s life has definitely taken a turn for the worse, and he is unable to adapt to the changes in his life. When the movie begins, he is clinging desperately to his solitude, even though it gives him no pleasure.

Majok is a young Sudanese immigrant, whose face is as smooth and serene as Jakob’s is lined with disappointment. Yet, the serenity is misleading. Majok is also disoriented with the changes in his life and copes with them no better than Jakob does with his own changes. Majok flits between living with a group of Sudanese refugees and living in a pasture among a herd of cows that he clearly loves. Yearning for his old home, Majok tries to recreate his life in Sudan, but of course it doesn’t work. Metaphorically speaking, he is not in Kansas anymore, and no amount of wishful thinking is going to change this. Unlike Jakob, Majok is not cranky. In fact on the surface, he seems perfectly amiable. He never fights or fusses. He never lashes out at anyone. Yet, looks can be deceiving, and in his own smooth way, Majok is just as willful as Jakob. The young man politely but firmly resists the efforts of those who would help him, preferring to spend his time in the pasture with the cows, even though they don’t belong to him.

Majok’s and Jakob’s lives eventually intersect in this leisurely, slice-of-life film. Nothing dramatic really happens, but somehow this film is deeply moving as these two men from very different cultures face displacement, loneliness, and an unsatisfying world.

ECCENTRIC ARTISTS TOUR 2003
USA, 2003; 46 minutes; video; in English

(for charm factor)

This delightful homegrown video is utterly unpolished and utterly charming. Filmed using a camcorder, Eccentric Artists Tour 2003 follows an actual tour led by Richard Lee as they visit a group of, well, eccentric artists who have made their homes in central Maine. Many of them looking like refugees from the back-to-nature movement of the 1970s, these eleven men and women live in funky dwellings, create art, and seem to have more creativity in their little fingers than most people do in their whole bodies. Equally engaging are the people on the tour, who are actually traveling in an honest-to-God tour bus. Many of them are artists themselves, and onward they go, through Augusta, Hallowell, Montville, past rolling green hills and lush pastures. There is no narrative; the film just follows the tour group as they look at the various homes and artwork as well as some prodigious examples of hoarding. Nevertheless, this zingy little video has real spunk, timing, and energy, and it works better than many more polished documentaries do. It not only left me wanting more (certainly not a given in documentaries), but it also made me feel as though I wanted to sign right up for the next tour.

Here are the artists featured in this film: Joe Ascrizzi, Bo Atkinson, Jane Burke, Alan Crichton, James Fangbone, Nancy Jacob, David McLaughlin, Doug Nye, Abby Shahn, Wally Warren, and Kris Wills. Now, I will stand on my soapbox and paraphrase what Ed Harris said about Railroad Square Cinema. If Mainers want to have the arts in Maine, then they must support artists. If opportunity and money allow, look up these artists (as well as others in your own community), and buy something from them. Creativity is an essential part of life, but so is eating and paying the bills. There, end of lecture. At least for now.  

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