UW Film Club Podcast #100: SIFFTY Recap

In a very special episode 100 of the podcast, we discuss our favorite films and experiences from the 2024 Seattle International Film Festival — SIFFTY! Special thanks to SIFF for sponsoring our club throughout the festival.

On this episode: Harrison Hall, Jocelyne Booth

You can find us on Facebook at /UWFilmClub, and on Twitter and Instagram @FilmClubUW. Make sure to rate, comment, and subscribe to our podcast on Apple Podcasts, Soundcloud, Spotify, and Google Play, and tune in every week for a new episode of the UW Film Club Podcast!

SIFF 2024 Capsule Reviews

The 2024 Seattle International Film Festival begins on May 9th and runs through May 19th, with select films screening on the SIFF Channel May 20-27. UW Film Club will be covering as many films as possible so that you know which films to see! Throughout the festival, this article will be regularly updated with capsule reviews for festival films. Check back every few days to see what’s new!

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UW Film Club Podcast #95: SIFF 2023 Highlights

With SIFF 2023 coming to a close, we visited some of our website writers and film club board members who were able to cover the festival and talk about which films were the highlights of their festival experience. If you’re interested in getting a heads-up on some of the best films coming out soon, or just why you should attend SIFF due to its overall experience, you won’t want to miss this episode!

On this episode: Drew Favors, Sarah Kelley, Harrison Hall, Natalia Valvano, PJ Knapke

You can find us on Facebook at /UWFilmClub, and on Twitter and Instagram @FilmClubUW. Make sure to rate, comment, and subscribe to our podcast on Apple Podcasts, Soundcloud, Spotify, and Google Play, and tune in every week for a new episode of the UW Film Club Podcast!

SIFF 2023 Capsule Reviews

The 2023 Seattle International Film Festival begins on May 11th and runs through May 21st, with select films screening on the SIFF Channel May 22-28. UW Film Club will be covering as many films as possible so that you know which films to see! Throughout the festival, this article will be regularly updated with capsule reviews for festival films. Check back every few days to see what’s new!

Continue reading “SIFF 2023 Capsule Reviews”

Review: ‘Spaceship Earth’ is Interesting, but Not Out of This World.

Spaceship Earth, a documentary out now on Hulu, tells the tale of the Biosphere 2 project from the early 90’s, in which 8 crew members were sealed in an allegedly self-contained facility for two years. As one comes to learn through the documentary, things did not go entirely according to plan. With vague mission parameters, managerial secrecy, and publicity issues, the experiment was largely seen as a failure. Continue reading “Review: ‘Spaceship Earth’ is Interesting, but Not Out of This World.”

Review: ‘Varda by Agnès’ is a Spontaneous, Joyful Goodbye

Per Agnès Varda, there are three stages to making a film. First, inspiration, because the idea must come from somewhere. Then, creation, because the idea must be brought to life. Finally, sharing, because you do not make movies to keep them to yourself. With these three tenets in mind, filmmaking is no longer a grand, complicated pursuit. Instead, it becomes simple and spontaneous. Accessible and lighthearted. Not so much an attempt at explaining the world but a celebration of what is possible in story. Understanding this is understanding Mme. Varda, whose films are filled to the brim with this energy. From an hour and a half in a French singer’s life, to a hundred-year-old man who represents cinema, to a triptych about potatoes, each one of Varda’s creations shouts “Come look! Look at this interesting thing!”

Varda by Agnès does so well to capture this joyful spirit. The film is composed of several different talks she gave (at opera halls, schools, and museums) that serve as a commentary on her art. It makes no attempt at a unifying theme or a moral lesson. Instead, it is simply an opportunity for the French icon to spend some time talking about the things she has made. It is written by Varda, directed by Varda, acted in by Varda, and edited by Varda. It is the story of Agnès Varda’s career as an artist as told by Agnès Varda, because who else would qualify for the task?

Additionally, it is a fun story to follow. Varda is extremely humorous and her love for art shines through clearly. None of her work is put on a pedestal. Instead, she giggles about convincing De Niro to float around on a pond for a day and celebrates colorful plastic floaties like a 9-year-old kid in a 90-year-old body. It’s not all about her cinema, and the latter half of the documentary, to do more with her exhibits and displays, is probably less engaging than the first (though that may just be the opinion of a single-medium aesthete). The film is certainly not comprehensive, nor does it claim to be entirely coherent. Varda talks and we listen, perhaps gaining a better sense of her genius, perhaps just happy to hear what she has to say. It’s certainly not a mournful eulogy. Varda wouldn’t have wanted that. Her passing last year only meant her energy would continue in another form. She lives on somewhere else now, directing angels in glorious feminist anthems. And her work lives on forever.

3.5/5 STARS

Review: Gripping and Profound, ‘End of the Century’ is a Modern-Day Romance

Pensive, piquant, and provocative, Lucio Castro’s End of the Century is a vibrant drama that perfectly captures the shallow yet strangely intimate dynamic of modern romances. From his Airbnb balcony, Ocho (Juan Barberini) catches his eye on an attractive passerby, Javi (Ramon Pujol). The two feel an instant connection, and as they get to know each other, they realize they have met before. As the film explores their timeline, Ocho and Javi expose new facets of themselves and confront what they really want out of a human connection.

End of the Century is markedly realistic in the way the characters interact. The small talk, light jabs, and slight pauses in conversation that live on the brink of awkwardness are remarkably accurate in the interactions of new acquaintances. Barberini and Pujol are masters of subtlety, and both do a wonderful job of portraying the tempered chemistry between their characters, treading the gentle line between passion and nonchalance. Rather than displaying blazing passion from the get go, they put on a bravado of restraint that swells and wanes with desire. This dynamic provides an interesting and profound relationship that dissects how people become intimate with strangers.

Adding to the realistic acting style, the cinematography maintains a lifelike atmosphere. The rawness of the footage slides the viewer into the intimacy of Ocho’s daily life. The simplicity of the editing relaxes the mood of the film into a slow ebb of tranquility, almost to the point of stagnancy. The minimalist style places focus in the natural beauty of the setting. Expect to be enthralled by the gorgeous streets of Barcelona, from its peaceful beaches to the cozy street markets. On aesthetic alone, End of the Century has a lot to offer.

The primary romantic relationship in End of the Century is undoubtedly same sex. But the publicity management seems to market this element above all others, which can feel more like a warning instead of a tag. A lot of the advertising situates End of the Century among other LGBT films rather than broader world of film, keeping it in the bubble of a subgenre. While the gay marketing does help spread awareness, it does not necessarily normalize queer relationships. Films with heteronormative relationships do not have a tag attached to the title so why should films with gay and queer relationships? Though End of the Century is marketed as a gay film, the emphasis lies much more deeply in forming human connections and posing philosophical questions.

Castro dives deep into the philosophy that fuels and pervades our actions and thought processes. Notably, he anticipates the question of true freedom. Where is the line drawn between independence and codependence? How do we keep away from the monotony that inevitably dulls a long term relationship? How do we maintain commitment? A beautiful quote from a novel in the film likens commitment issues to the catharsis of reaching a destination. The author desires to be in a constant state of transit, which is where they believe true freedom lies. Reaching your goals can be burdensome in the eternal “What’s next?” question. After hitting your mark, the chapter closes, and the void that follows is consuming.

Though this is an excellent film, it is very sexually explicit and is definitely not suitable to any viewer under the age of 18. For adult audiences who feel queasy about erotic material, the sex scenes are not unnecessarily grotesque and somehow settle in the artistic gray area of actually supporting the plot without existing for the sake of shock value.

Albeit intentional, the pacing is slow and requires a lot of concentration to stay engaged with every plot point. The audience may have trouble piecing together the narrative as the timeline flips back and forth between the past and the present, as well as illusion and reality. Any viewer who needs closure at the resolution will likely not be pleased with the open-ended plot. But for those who enjoy the mind game, strap in for a beautiful, poignant story that leaves you with the thrilling yet depressing feeling of the end of a century.

5/5 STARS

Review: The Poignant and Bittersweet Self-Reflection of Almodóvar’s ‘Pain and Glory’

Legendary Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar’s latest film — Dolor y Gloria — opens with the camera slowly encroaching upon a man floating at the bottom of a pool, motionless, seemingly relishing in the release of all physical tension for the few moments that his breathlessness will allow. The film then cuts to a group of women and a young boy on the side of a river, the women washing clothes by hand and singing harmoniously as the wind blows through the reeds and the sun shines warmly. Thus begins Almodóvar’s most personal story of his career, a very rich and moving narrative that interweaves history, memory, creativity, and desire into a deep reflection upon the man’s seven decades of life and four decades in film.

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Review: ‘Greener Grass’ is as Vapid as its Subjects

With the fifteen-minute short film of the same name written by directors Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe already feeling like it overstays its welcome, the feature-length adaptation really tests the patience of its audience. Its unhumorous nature is actually an acute commentary on the average American family. An absurdist satire of suburban upper-middle-class culture, Greener Grass ups the hideous aesthetic that plagues tract housing through a distinct oversaturation of colors in tandem with the dumbing down of banter between two friendly, but competitive, soccer moms. It attempts to poke fun at outlandish one-upmanship, but ultimately comes off just as self-serving and insipid as Jill (Deboer) and Lisa (Luebbe), whose names are so forgettable, I had to look up the cast to remember (although this could play into the idea of homogeneity to such a degree that everyone feels the same). Make no mistake though, for this “absurdist comedy satire” is neither some masterclass takedown of the culture of PTA meetings and “Gifted Program” math classes, nor possessive of any relative humor. Greener Grass tries to imbue the essence of a tornado ripping through Richmond Heights, but falls just as short as its contemporary absurd short films like Unedited Footage of a Bear and This House Has People in It.

The film opens at a soccer game, where children crowd around the ball in an unfiltered and lawless way. One child stands removed from the sport staring off into nothing until he is brushed past by another child, prompting him to fall to the ground; screaming in agony in a successful attempt for attention from his mother Jill, who’s talking to her “friend,” Lisa, about the recent murder of a yoga instructor. Laying out the primary structure for the rest of the film, this sequence in the film is about as good as it gets as it injects an absurd humor into what feels like the rudimentary chitchat you’d overhear at the waiting room of a children’s dentistry as one mother offers up her baby to the other in an attempt to appear selflessly and morally superior to her friend. This competition of who can appear better is what primarily drives the plot for the remaining 90 or so minutes (although it feels twice as long). Jill and Lisa work their way through child-swapping, narcissistic parenting, and contemplating divorce like it is a juice cleanse. But what the film focuses on primarily is their parenting, as their children seem to be extensions of their own egos. Jill is more embarrassed about her son wetting his pants than his mental stability, which is pretty questionable when it seems to take on a quasi-oedipal approach to this “mama’s boy” notion (although this is undercut by a gag equal parts outrageous and unfunny later in the film). Hints of thoughtful commentary are all too often undermined by an adherence to what one might call the “Adult Swim” approach to comedy, where everything is heightened to such an extent that the viewer grows bored of “look at how crazy this is” gags within the first five minutes.

Despite the poor execution, the most commendable aspect about Greener Grass is surprisingly, the dialogue. While the universal satirical criticism isn’t achieved, writer/directors Luebbe and DeBoer are able to contextualize absurd ideas into the mothers’ discourse while making it feel completely normal for two suburban mothers’ day-to-day babble. A particularly clever piece of dialogue comes up in the opening discussion of the murder of a yoga instructor. Both Jill and Lisa switch from disgust to vapid egoism in tandem as they make regards akin to “I’d always love to try out yoga” as they completely forget about the bleak nature of death and get caught up in their own desires. The ability to make the most farcical conversations feel mundane is handled incredibly well, and this is undoubtedly due to the fact that the actresses are also the writers of the film. But, as we all know, dialogue isn’t everything in a film. While the dialogue works, the rest of the writing falls flat on its face as the progression of events feels more like the writers think that an infinite crescendo of “craziness” works as opposed to developing a worthwhile, well-thought-out caricature of suburbanite vapidity. Thus, an interesting dichotomy comes into play with the fractured writing that triumphs and fails at the same time.

The odd thing about Greener Grass’s tone-deaf nature is that its execution is fairly standard. The film is well shot in regards to space and focus, and the production design aids the thesis of the film quite well. However, the visual presentation is held back by the colors that are blown out and utterly hideous. Despite that being an addition to the absurd nature of everything going on, it still isn’t a worthy contribution to its satirical nature. Terry Zwigoff takes aim at the same suburban mundanity in Ghost World through kitsch aesthetics and manages to triumph through production design akin to that of Greener Grass, but cinematographer Lowell A. Meyer manages to drown out the otherwise decent costume and production design in what feels like a cheap attempt at recreating Katy Perry music videos from the early 2010s. When there’s such a disconnect between the strengths of the production design and how it is presented on screen, it detracts substantially from one’s enjoyment of the film.

While I found the film to be quite repulsive, determining the quality something like this feels incredibly subjective. I don’t care for this or Sorry to Bother You, yet find Idiocracy and But I’m a Cheerleader to be quite comedic successes. Placing satire into a film makes any universal consensus incredibly contentious as the degree of its prevalence and its overall amplitude in the film plays a critical role in one’s enjoyment. With something like Greener Grass, unfortunately, the satire is too absurd and uninspired for me to enjoy it personally. Films may look awful but provide some interesting insight, but this film lacks both the appealing panache and thoughtful commentary for it to feel like it’s worthwhile in any sense. Ultimately, the film is a novel concept, but feels too underdeveloped to work well.

1.5/5 STARS

Review: It’s Hard to Find Words to Describe ‘Synonyms’

“I am Yoav,” says the naked man lying in the bed, staring up at his strange saviors. “I have nothing anymore.” So begins the absurd, philosophical, individualist, fever dream narrative of Synonyms: with an Israeli immigrant, urgently escaped to Paris for mysterious purpose, stripped of all possessions by an unknown force, and rescued from certain death of cold by a bourgeoisie couple as foreign to him as he is to them. In his predicament, there is hopelessness and desolation. But in his eyes, one senses a free and confident spirit, born anew from ash and fire.

Yoav’s murky situation does not clear up with any real pace. He refuses to speak Hebrew, employing instead an intermediate command of the French language. He is reluctant to take aid in his plight of homelessness and lack of resources, accepting only a bare wardrobe and some essentials from his rescuers. His stories are uncoordinated and inspired, rather than informative. They say little as to the life he has left behind. He is anxious to explore the beautiful city in which he has arrived, and yet also seemingly unwilling to enjoy any of its beauty. All of this renders us, the audience, utterly confused. We cannot know Yoav. We can only tell that he is unabashedly alive, or another thing like it. Call it life, or urgency, or perhaps even just naive aspiration, it remains a core theme throughout the movie. “Die or conquer the mountain!” exclaims Yoav. He internalizes the fight for a free spirit, for individualism. He believes in a French ideal of bravery and initiative and walks the streets with it proudly emblazoned on his chest. He longs to assimilate into his new world.

This semi-biographical story that director Nadav Lapid tells is clearly close to the heart and imbued with emotion. It dances into existence on the screen with an energy reminiscent of the French New Wave. It begs one to think deeply about the conduct of life. It fills one with the crackling sensation of vivacity, then rends one to shreds with the monstrous teeth of despair. It is ever evolving and never constrained by plot or structure. Its characters love with insatiable passion and hate with burning fury. It quietly flirts with beautiful homoeroticism, then playfully jerks back the veil and makes no effort to hide it. And it all plays out with a soundtrack that is simultaneously nostalgic and hopeful, tragic and angelic.

There is not much to disappoint the viewer, save for a smattering of shots in the streets of Paris seemingly captured with primordial digital camcorders and a constant sense of confusion and ambiguity that does not necessarily put off, but nags and delights in frustrating the audience. There are unmotivated turns of plot and touches of surprising humor, but both seem to work in the film’s favor rather than against it. In many ways, Lapid has constructed a near-perfect existential piece, one that factors in looming anxiety about immigration and a masterfully delicate approach to sexuality and love. There’s very little not to love about Synonyms, as long as one seeks not to definitively define it.

4.5/5 STARS