Big
Island Film Festival
Talking
Stories From the Heart
Island Film Festival
Talking
Stories From the Heart
The 9th annual Big Island Film Festival opened to clear calm skies in the courtyard of the Queen’s Shops at Mauna Lani. The whimsical fountain displaying arcs of water that appear suddenly only to dive into a fissure like a fish escaping a net, seemed to presage the magical offerings that would emerge from behind the screen. (Take no notice of that man behind the curtain Dorothy) The audience, which included some of the film makers, (two from Russia, one from Brazil) settled into chairs and on the grass. Celebrities Portia Doubleday (Carrie remake) and Jackson Rathbone (Twilight) were introduced along with professional writers Peter Caranicas (deputy editor, Variety), script writer Ron Osborn and Jen Grisanti (story consultant) who joined the audience. All were thrilled to be at this unique, multi-cultural venue where artists can connect with their audiences in a casual outdoor setting.
Three of the films: Take a Deep Breath (Richard Jacobs, Director/Writer); We are Enemies (Ilya Rozhkov, Director / Alexandra Kiseleva, Writer) and Little Girl’s War Cry ( Erin Lau, Director/Writer) take place in very different settings --- Urban Paris, Lenningrad countryside and Aotearoa North Island --- but they are connected by a quest for love and explore what it means to be human.
Take a Deep Breath is a humorously ironic take on love and connection. A young man is diagnosed with a rare,severe case of “Being in love” for which the doctor prescribes anti-biotics and Advil. Blood tests confirm his condition and after surgery to remove his heart, he is helped up the steps to his apartment by the young beauty who is the cause of his condition. Without his heart his countenance opens as if he can truly see, while the young woman falls prey to the same “disease”. After she undergoes the same surgery and both are without hearts, their love
is truly born.
is truly born.
That love can thrive in a heartless state is counter-intuitive, but the emotions of the heart can be crippling and maybe it’s only by disconnecting from them, removing fear and delusions, that two humans can truly connect. This is what happens for a few brief moments in We are Enemies.
Running through the forest, a young soldier is propelled into a temporal realm when he meets up with and wounds an enemy soldier. The two soldiers, disconnected from their respective societies and unable to communicate using language, create a bond in a meditative state where the rest of the world moves to the periphery and all that exists is the breath. These moments are so powerful that when the young soldier awakes and realizes the wounded soldier has died, he is bereft, mourning for that brief connection with grace. He fires into the air. Perhaps to signal the dead soldier’s comrades or as a newly energized war cry.
Running through the forest, a young soldier is propelled into a temporal realm when he meets up with and wounds an enemy soldier. The two soldiers, disconnected from their respective societies and unable to communicate using language, create a bond in a meditative state where the rest of the world moves to the periphery and all that exists is the breath. These moments are so powerful that when the young soldier awakes and realizes the wounded soldier has died, he is bereft, mourning for that brief connection with grace. He fires into the air. Perhaps to signal the dead soldier’s comrades or as a newly energized war cry.
The war cry in Little Girl’s War Cry, comes from the power and strength of her ancestors. She is leading a solitary life, carrying out imagined rescues, when she discovers a kāpunipuni (a gathering place of spirits) and witnesses the haka of her ancestors. She is infused with their spirit and gains the strength to rescue her mother who has fallen under the influence of a violently alcoholic man.
While her mother weeps from the latest beating, she sings quietly in the other room. But her war cry is not a cry at all but quiet action. When she props a pan of pig excrement above the door and lures him outside by setting off his car alarm, the trance is broken. Now appropriately groomed in pig manure, he attempts to assault her but he is no match for the young warrior and she escapes back to the kāpunipuni, to seek ancestral protection. Approaching the carved alter figure, her ancestors’ voice their protection. She returns to find her mother restored to her humanness. They pack his shirts and bottles of alcohol into a box and watch serenely holding hands while he glares murderously and drives away.
Perhaps finding one’s humanness means finding your truth and the strength to follow it. The masks of fear and delusion that enclose our lives keep us from really seeing ourselves and others, making it impossible to make real connections. These three films examine what it means to accept the invitations to authentic human experience that often go by unseen and unnoticed.
While her mother weeps from the latest beating, she sings quietly in the other room. But her war cry is not a cry at all but quiet action. When she props a pan of pig excrement above the door and lures him outside by setting off his car alarm, the trance is broken. Now appropriately groomed in pig manure, he attempts to assault her but he is no match for the young warrior and she escapes back to the kāpunipuni, to seek ancestral protection. Approaching the carved alter figure, her ancestors’ voice their protection. She returns to find her mother restored to her humanness. They pack his shirts and bottles of alcohol into a box and watch serenely holding hands while he glares murderously and drives away.
Perhaps finding one’s humanness means finding your truth and the strength to follow it. The masks of fear and delusion that enclose our lives keep us from really seeing ourselves and others, making it impossible to make real connections. These three films examine what it means to accept the invitations to authentic human experience that often go by unseen and unnoticed.
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