Through the Image and Beyond
During the first days of the 31. edition of the Festival des Films du Monde, one could have the impression that the rumours about an ongoing loss of quality were true. In the passing years, many film critics favoured the Film Festival of Toronto. But within this September Montreals program developed surprisingly and offered a little sensation. As well in the two main programs of the international competition, one reserved for film debuts, as in the thoughtfully investigated section “Focus on World Cinema”, one could explore rich and beautiful films. I have to admit that most of them were not found in the international competition, which suffered from a lack of aesthetic knowledge. DP75 Tartina City, for example, a contribution directed by Issa Serge Coelo from Chad (2006, winner of the festival's Innovation Award), combines a devastating story of systematically torture with a parable of the eternal return of immortal despots. Politically engaged, the film hesitates to translate its embarrassment into a language of images which reaches beyond the status of information.
A gripping vision of an ethical admonition, interwoven with a provocative film aesthetic, Ben X, the Flemish contribution of the international competition, won the prize of the Ecumenical Jury as well as the Grand Prix of America and the Most Popular Film award.
Director Nic Balthazar uses patterns of a critical view towards society and media, as we have seen them in other movies dealing with pestered juveniles, just to thwart these well known motifs in the end. Starting like the drama of the gifted, autistic child, which is driven into death by rudeness and prejudice Ben X develops a refreshingly unorthodox revenge-satire. 17-year-old-protagonist Ben is the hero of a computer game, killing monstrous creatures on the highest level. In real life the boy suffers from a condition of hyper sensitivity, leading his perception to constant implosions. From his point of view, every detail is blown up to the size of a wholesome universe; every little task is a gigantic challenge. Whereas the simple minds that make Bens life a misery, search for originality in looking alike, Ben is strikingly different: His playful reception of the world opens windows into a widened reality where he can talk fluently with fictive persons, such as the heroine of his beloved computer game. The heroine is the virtual character of a girl, which in real life is as shy as Ben. They agree to meet but fail, because Bens worst enemies make him come late. Ben compensates his disappointment by creating a ghostly companion: Visible only for him, the apparition of the girl accompanies him and suggests committing suicide.
“One has to die first”, says Bens mother, bursting into tears in front of a TV-camera. This sentence is more enigmatical than we think. Indeed, it is a triumph of phantasy.
If only the sacrifice of the innocent moves the TV-cameras, why not fake it? After arranging his suicide, seemingly “proven” by his own video-camera, Ben appears safe and sound in a church to bring a little life into his burial. His resurrection blames the media that denied to report about the daily war at school, but is willing to capture every single tear of his devastated family. His revenge is completed by an accidentally taken mobile-picture of his humiliation in front of a yelling class, not focussing on his bitter role, but on the delighted faces of his torturers and the cheering crowd. The imagery strikes back and claims an alternative power. The Passion of Christ needs no repetition; one crucifixion is enough to save us from our sins. The scapegoats of today, states this cunning movie, shall not die, but rehearse their death as part of a cinema strategy. No use of killing, if a picture brings us back to life.
A worldly life? A spiritual life? Ben X is a fascinating example for my personally preferred film-theory: A movie with a strong and unique aesthetic is a good candidate for discussions about more or less hidden religious impacts. Why so? Maybe because digging deep into the parameters of aesthetics reveals the roots of humanism – and its blossoms, reaching for the sky. I can imagine, that Ben X is a perfect choice for one of the next "Talk Faith, Talk Film" seminars, “which were begun by, and have continued under the direction of Interfilm, North America” as James M. Wall, senior contributing editor of Christian Century magazine, located in Chicago, Illinois, USA, wrote. And he continued: “From the beginning the seminars have involved support, as well, from the World Association for Christian Communication (WACC). Under the leadership of the Rev. Andrew Johnston, now the pastor of St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Ottawa, and formerly pastor of the Briarwood Presbyterian Church, in Montreal, Talk Faith, Talk Film, has energized and informed film viewers since its first sessions in 1997.”
Referring to the work of Susanne Langer, the art philosopher, Jim Wall suggests a way of decoding images, which, by the way, should be also the utmost concern of every film critic who deserves the privilege to write. “The methodology appears simple enough, but most viewers fail to make the distinction, remaining largely fixed on the film’s ‘aboutness’, rather than remaining open to its ‘isness’. Sadly, this is also how many religious people also view faith and doctrine, fixing on the surface data rather than its deeper significance.”
The participants of this year seminar, held during Montreal World Film Festival, invited the members of the ecumenical jury. We were asked a complicated question: What do we expect from the movies? My colleagues, Alyda Faber, Scott Malkemus, Guy Marchessault and Roman Maurer, found these crucial keywords: Transparency and Translucency. An open minded view, which neither underestimates our imagination nor our sensitivity. A vision of mankind and world, which is universal, but neither predictable nor dogmatic. As for me, I believe in metaphors. Such as in Edward Yang's film Yi Yi (A one and a two, Taiwan/Japan 1999), telling the story of a disconnected family - the latest masterwork of the director who died in June 2007. The grandmother is the only person caring for the litter of the family, literally and symbolically. One day, she has a heart attack and is found lying next to the litter box. She goes into a coma and a doctor recommends speaking with her, luring her back to life by thrilling narrations. Her little grandson is too scared to do so. To console and distract him, he is given a photo camera. He starts photographing mosquitoes, which no one appreciates. A heartless teacher mocks about him.” There is nothing to see,” the teacher howls with laughter. “You need to look better,” the boy replies and is punished instantly. Nevertheless, he is not giving up the idea that some things are just invisible for the unsophisticated viewer. Claiming you don’t see a thing does not necessarily imply that things do not exist.
Obviously, touching the sphere of religion and philosophy within the frame of childlike perception, the film confronts us with our limited and narrow perspective of the invisible and visible world. With the help of a little boy and a great filmmaker we are challenged in our stubborn belief of reality as one-way street. The next project of the boy is to photograph the back of the head of people. Interrogated by his uncle why he would do so, the boy states: “You cannot see yourself from the back.” I wonder if a philosopher could have expressed it any better. We have no idea of our appearance in the world: we neither see our backsides nor what is behind the mask people wear in order to protect themselves. A mirror is an imposturous friend, betraying us at the core of our self-understanding. A cinematographic image, referring to a sublime aesthetic, emphasizing the intense self-interrogating process of filmmaking, is a window to the world, enlightening foreign visions of life as well as the routine in which we might be stuck.
Yet, not in Montreal 2007. Experiencing the humour, passion and profound knowledge of my colleagues, routine was a stranger to us. And, we were lucky enough to see amazing films.
If Ai Quing De Ya Chi (Teeth of love, 2006) by Chinese director Zhuang Yuxin would have been shown into competition, it could have been >Ben X< greatest rival. It is almost unbelievable that this elegant piece of work is a debut. “The teeth of love” leave their traces on the body of a beautiful woman, acting representative for so many supporters of the communist party who never doubted the almighty rules of a regime, defeating the smallest sign of individuality or personal pleasure. Starting 1977 as a role model for and cruelty against the weak and the spoiled, (we might say: the sensitive ones), the female protagonist, has to discover that love is not a party member. Violent against her own feelings as well as towards the beloved enemy, a handsome young poet, her self-abnegation is literally painful: A chain reaction of physical injuries and invisible wounds, which will never heal, marks for ten years the way of the red fundamentalist – unless she realizes that the communist credo of discipline, restricting emotions and sexuality, fights life itself. From the beginning of her medicine studies to her work as a doctor, her failing love-stories are part of a bigger frame: The private moments of a forbidden love with a married and highly ranked party member, an abortion that is detected, and the punishment of “re-education” in a factory (of course only for her), symbolize the agony of a whole decade. It’s the killing of the inner voice and the cut trough the roots of humanity that interests the filmmaker: Reflecting utter subordination and embodied self-deception, he subscribes what made the disaster of the Tiananmen Square possible.
