There was a chorus of surprise when the 69th Cannes Film Festival last Sunday awarded its top prize to Ken Loach's welfare drama I, Daniel Blake -- because the film was largely absent from the critical radar during the 12-day festival. A bigger surprise (not to say disappointment) was when the second prize went to Xavier Dolan's melodrama It's Only The End Of The World, because the film was nearly unanimously disliked for its histrionics and theatrical conceits. When the jury, led by Mad Max director George Miller, gave the prize to Dolan's film, a joke sprang up and quickly caught on, inspired by the film's title: yes, for this film to be honoured by Cannes it is the end of the world, or the end of cinema. Apocalypse now!
Prizes never satisfy everyone, no, and Cannes awards aren't given out by critics, but by a selected panel of professionals that changes every year. We're aware of that; it's just that when the disparity is so stark -- when there's a vast gap of perception on what great cinema is -- complaints and reflections are inevitable. The LA Times' headline read "How George Miller's jury got it wrong"; then the highly respected French film magazine Cahiers Du Cinema tweeted: "A beautiful [festival] wasted by a blind jury."
First off, the Palme d'Or winner, I, Daniel Blake. Screened on the second day of the 12-day festival, the film was quickly forgotten, with the horde of international journalists respectfully acknowledging the film's merit as a cry against European austerity and especially Britain's welfare system, but also dismissing it as yet another working-class drama from the 79-year-old Loach, who's been telling more or less the same story for 30 years. I, Daniel Blake is a film calculated to be moving, with Dave Johns starring as Daniel, a middle-aged carpenter with heart disease who's pinballed around the heartless social-security system that refuses to give him a pension and doesn't help him find a job. As usual, Loach is an expert in evoking the working-class milieu populated by honest people trapped on the lower rung of the economic ladder, inching towards starvation and total penury.
Aquarius, the Brazilian film by Kleber Mendoca Filho.
At Cannes the film had its admirers, but the Palme d'Or? This is the second time the veteran Loach won the world's top cinema honour -- his first Palme was in 2006 from the IRA drama The Wind That Shakes The Barley -- and by awarding it the jury is sending a message that they've chosen to recognise a film with topical subject matter and traditional storytelling, instead of films that challenge the way we see cinema, or films that speak with a fresh voice. And Cannes offered many such films this year. Loach is a highly respected filmmaker, but this is nowhere near his best film. In short, we expected more from Cannes (our fault, always), and I, Daniel Blake seems like an uninspiring choice from the world's most influential cinema event.
Likewise with It's Only The End Of The World, a little object of scorn and ridicule. The film was directed by the Quebecois wunderkind Xavier Dolan, only 27 and having already packed two Cannes prizes, and it stars some of the top names of French cinema: Marion Cotillard, Gaspard Ulleil, Lea Seydoux, Vincent Cassel, Natalie Baye. It's a vain, frustrating, overacted piece of child's play in which a man returns to his family home after many years to announce that he's dying, and we endure a series of shrill shouting (mostly by Cassel) and over-the-top direction. The jury -- which was made up of actors such as Kirsten Dunst, Donald Sutherland, Vanessa Paradis and Mads Mikkelsen -- hinted that they preferred films that showcase acting, and, boy, It's Only The End Of The World is a surfeit of acting, not necessarily in memorable ways.
Again, this acting-heavy predisposition is a mystery, because Cannes this year offers an array of startling performances in ways more creative and unexpected than Dolan's shouting-match drama. Even though Cannes prizes are not awarded by critics, we hoped (wrongly) that the jury would be on the same page as ours. Take the German film Toni Erdmann, for instance. This was by far, to me and many others, the best film in the festival, a funny, warm-hearted and super-smart father-daughter story with two brilliant performances -- and if the jury didn't deign to give it the Palme d'Or, to have shut this gem out completely without even a consolation prize feels almost criminal. In the film Sandra Huller plays a workaholic executive whose strict life is infiltrated by her prankster father, played by Peter Simonischek. Directed by Maren Ade, the film is a series of astonishments, jokes, twists, and eventually a feel-good family drama that enlivened the festival with its intelligence.
I, Daniel Blake, the Palme d'Or winner by British director Ken Loach.
Also left out of the award slots were Jim Jarmusch's Paterson, an odd, heartfelt ode to the city of Paterson, starring Adam Driver as a bus driver/poet, and Kleber Mendoca Filho's Aquarius, a patient study of social change featuring a mature, intimidating performance by 66-year-old Brazilian actress Sonia Braga, who was tipped as a front-runner for best actress (before losing to Jaclyn Jose from the Filipino film Ma'Rosa). Also surprisingly empty-handed is Elle, a delicious rape-revenge fantasy from Dutch director Paul Verhoeven and starring Isabelle Huppert in another blistering performance, and Sieranevada, a darkly comical Romanian film taking place during a family gathering one afternoon. All of these were completely left out by the jury.
Still, all is not lost. There were no complaints when the best director prize was shared between Olivier Assayas -- for his supernatural/high-fashion thriller Personal Shopper, starring Kristen Stewart (impressive) -- and Christian Munguiu -- whose Romanian film Graduation is a minutely observant film about corruption in a small town. Personal Shopper especially -- though the film was booed -- is an elegant mixing of various genres, from ghost story to identity drama, plus a wardrobe of luxurious clothes draped on Stewart's body. It's a film of wit, courage and experimental spirit, from a filmmaker with a deep knowledge of film history.
Lastly, the Iranian film The Salesman scored a feat by winning two prizes -- best screenplay for writer/director Asghar Farhadi, and best actor for Shahab Hosseini. The film is a solid work of scripting, telling the story of an actor obsessed with revenge after his wife has been assaulted in their own home. Farhadi is a skilled writer, and though The Salesman doesn't have the devastating social implication of his biggest achievement, the divorce drama A Separation, it has enough suspense and morality play to win over the jury.
At this point, it's not clear which of these films will find its way to Bangkok cinemas. Most likely is The Salesman, though I hope someone will be brave enough to bring in Toni Erdmann, Elle and Personal Shopper, all of them entertaining films equipped with edge.
For now, Cannes is finished, but the debate will continue in the months to come.
