SIFFting through cinema, Pt. 3
By Dennis Hartley
The Seattle International Film Festival is running through June 10, so I’m continuing my highlights series. Hopefully, some of these will be coming soon to a theater near you!
Robot and Frank, a lightweight crowd-pleaser from first-time director Jake Schreier, opens with a screen crawl informing us that it’s “the near future” (code for “we’re not budgeted for CGI, so you’ll have to take our word for it”). The story centers on an aging ex-cat burglar named Frank (Frank Langella). Concerned about Frank’s increasing forgetfulness, his son presents him with a “caregiver” robot. Initially, Frank reacts with crankiness and hostility toward his metallic Man Friday (voiced by Peter Sarsgaard) but warms up considerably after he gleans that the robot is a wiz at picking locks and cracking safes. You can likely guess what happens next (think Going in Style
meets the classic Ray Bradbury Twilight Zone episode, “I Sing the Body Electric”). Not exactly groundbreaking sci-fi, but buoyed considerably by Christopher Ford’s affable screenplay, Langella’s engaging performance and the always-welcome presence of Susan Sarandon.
meets the classic Ray Bradbury Twilight Zone episode, “I Sing the Body Electric”). Not exactly groundbreaking sci-fi, but buoyed considerably by Christopher Ford’s affable screenplay, Langella’s engaging performance and the always-welcome presence of Susan Sarandon.
It’s a toss-up. Tatsumi wins the trophy for either the worst date movie at SIFF this year…or the most depressing one. In his first animated feature, Singapore-based director Eric Khoo weaves biopic with omnibus to tell the life story and showcase the work of Japanese manga artist Yoshihiro Tatsumi, who was instrumental in the creation of an adult-themed subgenre known as gekiga. Five of Tatsumi’s nihilistic (and unrelentingly misogynistic) gekiga tales are featured, broken up by vignettes adapted from his memoir, A Drifting Life
. I was previously unaware of Tatsumi’s oeuvre, but his visual and narrative style reminded me of Creepy magazine (I went through a phase when I was 12). I assume that gekiga fans will enjoy, but otherwise...abandon hope, all ye who enter here.
. I was previously unaware of Tatsumi’s oeuvre, but his visual and narrative style reminded me of Creepy magazine (I went through a phase when I was 12). I assume that gekiga fans will enjoy, but otherwise...abandon hope, all ye who enter here. 
Polisse is a docudrama style police procedural in the tradition of Jules Dassin’s Naked City 
and the late great TV show Homicide
. You do have to pay very close attention, however, because it seems like there are about 8 million stories (and just as many characters) crammed into the 127 minutes of French director Maiwenn’s complex film. Using a clever “hall of mirrors” device, the director casts herself in the role of a “fly on the wall” photojournalist (that’s her in the lower left of the photo above), and it is through this character’s lens that we observe the dedicated men and women who work in the Child Protective Unit arm of the French police. As you can imagine, these folks are dealing with the absolute lowest of the already lowest criminal element of society, day in and day out, and it does take its psychic toll on them. Still, there’s a surprising amount of levity sprinkled throughout Maiwenn’s dense screenplay (co-written by Emmanuelle Bercot), which helps temper the heartbreak of seeing children in situations that children would never have to suffer through in a just world. It fizzles a bit at the end, and keeping track of all the storylines is a challenge, but it’s worthwhile, with remarkable performances from the ensemble (likely explaining the Jury Prize win at Cannes in 2011).
and the late great TV show Homicide . You do have to pay very close attention, however, because it seems like there are about 8 million stories (and just as many characters) crammed into the 127 minutes of French director Maiwenn’s complex film. Using a clever “hall of mirrors” device, the director casts herself in the role of a “fly on the wall” photojournalist (that’s her in the lower left of the photo above), and it is through this character’s lens that we observe the dedicated men and women who work in the Child Protective Unit arm of the French police. As you can imagine, these folks are dealing with the absolute lowest of the already lowest criminal element of society, day in and day out, and it does take its psychic toll on them. Still, there’s a surprising amount of levity sprinkled throughout Maiwenn’s dense screenplay (co-written by Emmanuelle Bercot), which helps temper the heartbreak of seeing children in situations that children would never have to suffer through in a just world. It fizzles a bit at the end, and keeping track of all the storylines is a challenge, but it’s worthwhile, with remarkable performances from the ensemble (likely explaining the Jury Prize win at Cannes in 2011).
meets the HBO series