See The World

June 30, 2020

No one alive has ever experienced what we’re currently being subjected to, so I’ve stopped listening to the babble. Even worse, I’ve started listening to myself.

A pandemic’s forcing us to stay home, socially distancing from the one’s we love. This leads to a lot of down time. A lot of time to ourselves and that’s a dangerous place to be. Despite how poetic it sounds, solitude is rather prosaic. It’s a crucible for the ego and the ego never manifested anything of lasting value. That’s what Shelley taught us in Ozymandias.

This whole experience has brought much into perspective. The important things. How dependent we are to civil life. Whatever that means. What happens when all that shuts down and the veneer of civilization begins to crumble?

There I go again reaching into the dark place. That’s the ego talking. But there’s a little truth in the darkest of imaginings. How do I shut that voice down?

Get out of my head, and take action.

The happiest I ever was were the days I used to meander out in the copses of the Guinean highlands. Forests, rivers, rolling hills. Verdant and mysterious. As a 10 year old it was just me running around with my friends with no electronics to break the reverie. Now, it’s a time machine connecting me back to the memories of my ancestors. I’ve lost a lot of that.

Sometimes I think to myself that leaving Africa was both the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me. I need to recapture a few things. And I can only do that by being in tune with the natural world. Like when I was a child.

What this pandemic has brought home is the importance of being self-sufficient. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote an essay called Self-Reliance I’d refer you to. Walden is also enlightening. Thoreau said that men need not lead lives of quiet desperation and he went out into nature in order to live deeply and truly.

This is not a call to become a hermit. Happiness is only real when shared. I saw that in a movie once.

No, this is a call to be less materialistic, embrace minimalism, connect to the world as it is, rather than how it should be. Embrace the chaos and the order.

My only mantra from now on is to see the world in its natural state and to bring you along for the ride. I’m starting small. Taking time to fish. To hike into the woods. Maybe I’ll find something true. Maybe not.

We’ll see where it’ll take me.

The important thing is to know why.

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March 3, 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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March 28, 2015

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Vertigo Storyboards

March 28, 2015

Illustrated by Henry Bumstead

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March 18, 2015

Most people work hard to make it somewhere. Those who succeed, arrive. Those who don’t, survive.

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IDA

March 18, 2015

Sometimes, life’s all about composition. Oscar winner for best foreign language film, Ida is a perfect example of the aforementioned. Director Paweł Pawlikowski does a masterful job of depicting a young orphan’s life slowly spiralling out of control. Set in 60’s poland, Ida follows the eponymous character as she visits her last-living relative, her aunt, before taking her vows to become a nun. Her aunt, a powerful but sullen judge, has more to say than the customary welcoming salutations. She reveals that Ida is in fact a jewish woman whose parents were killed during the Shoah. To underscore the absurdity of Ida’s current station in life, they embark on a trip to visit Ida’s family home. What ensues is a road movie with two strangers whose familial connection is ironically the only thing that unsuccessfully ties them together. You expect this to be a reappraisal of  St. Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus in that Ida goes on a journey that will, in the end, confirm her commitment to a higher power. But it’s the contrast between divine determination and human catastrophe, depicted by Ida and her aunt respectively, that makes this film so engaging.

I would also recommend Bunuel’s Viridiana which shares the same narrative trope of a nun having a crisis of faith after she returns home for a short visit. Overall, what made me fall in love with this picture is the sublime cinematography. See for yourselves. Like the struggles faced by the characters, it’s all about perspective.

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March 17, 2015

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March 17, 2015

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Dawg Fight

March 17, 2015

When you first watch the trailer for Dawg Fight, your initial reaction, after getting past the blood-soaked faces, is that director Billy Corben is exploiting a group of people who’ve been historically marginalized. That’s the liberal perspective. The other perspective is to view this gritty documentary through deconstructionist parameters. This is not another documentary about fighting. It’s about the struggles of humans living in a crowed modern metropolis. Set in Miami-Dade county, Billy Corben follows notorious street-fighter DADA 5000 as he turns his mother’s backyard into a modern day colosseum. Similar to the depictions in Jean Leon Gerome’s POLLICE VERSO, the audience screams out for  blood as the fighters dance inside the 12×12 ring. But where sabres were once brandished, fists are replaced as the primary instruments of punishment. While images of the bouts are heavily-peppered throughout this documentary, it is primarily an exposé on the pugilistic endeavours of  Dada, once head of security for Kimbo Slice’s entourage, who now yearns for his chance to fight on a professional level like his ex-patron. This is the stuff fit for any Horatio Alger rags to riches story. In a place where lifting yourself up by your bootstraps is enshrined in the American dream,  one hand doesn’t wash the other, it breaks it.

It is repeatedly mentioned that the fighters are trying to escape dire circumstances by entering the ring. However, one can’t help but think that they just like to fight. If they escape, that’s great, but a chance to attain a certain level of notoriety would provide a welcome respite from the day to day disappointments of ghetto life.  But herein lies the essence of this documentary. These fights don’t perpetuate violence, but are a symptom of something far deeper, far more nefarious: the failure of the state in providing viable options for young men unable to enfranchise themselves. They fight for socio-economic scraps like crabs in a bucket trying to reach an exit that never manifests itself. It’s a fatalist principle, I know.

The argument that Billy Corben poses is evidently clear. Can violence of one form mitigate the damage caused by another? Can organized bare-knuckle boxing prevent grudges from being settled on the street with well-intentioned bullets.  The answer is No. But don’t watch this documentary to get to an answer. You watch this documentary to be an active participant in the unusual depiction of the pursuit for the american dream; which in essence is the universal pursuit of self-actualization. The need to better oneself. Whether one succeeds is irrelevant. It’s the fight  in the dawg that matters.

I highly recommend this documentary, as well as Billy Corben’s previous forays into the documentary world (Cocaine Cowboys, Broke, Raw Deal.)

 

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VC5

December 18, 2014

I abhor closure in any form.  Especially in art. Anything that is meant to be aesthetically invigorating shouldn’t hold any answers. It should pose more questions. Finality in any form presupposes this idea of a just world, a unifying meta-narrative about who we  are and how we relate to the world. I don’t want finality in anything. Everything I do, I want there to be more that I could have done, because it pushes me to progress. That’s my meta-narritive. I could be better. It’s an inspiring thought.

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VC4

December 14, 2014

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I want my candle to burn at both ends, it will not last the night/but it’s in the darkest hour that a star will shines most bright.

There’s one type of moment that causes me great grief. It’s a fleeting moment that ensues right after having an epiphany of some kind; about my life, about work, about the universe. This epiphany is quickly followed by panic. I look around my proxemic bubble hoping I don’t get caught thinking what I just thought. Thoughtcrime Orwell called it. But once that agitation subsides and the realization that I’m the only one privy to my thoughts reveals itself,  a sensual calm washes over me and I begin to scheme.

I live for these moments.

 

 

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Spent some time yesterday scouting locations for my newest project with the Canadian Film Centre. Hailstorm is about an eco-terrorist who discovers she’s pregnant on the eve of a major bombing. I’m excited about the synthesis of action and intense character study this short will push me to create.

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VC3

February 26, 2014

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New York City. Three words that hold endless opportunities. I’m consistently advised to consider a move to the States to pursue filmmaking opportunities. As such, there are only two cities I consider: the aforementioned, and LA. New York is like a second home for me. It’s the city I entered North America through, my own odyssey within a metanarrative that millions of immigrants have experienced years, decades, centuries before me. It’s not a journey that’s lost on me. I cherish it.

Every few summers, as a child, I visited my uncle in New Jersey, and my aunts in the prospect park area of Brooklyn. These were formative visits as they kept me on the pulse of the American experience: which holds a lot of universal tenets.  However, I can’t see myself living in NY for a prolonged period of time. Like Tokyo, or Paris, I’ve always been averse to big cities finding them extremely distracting.  Nevertheless, Los Angeles seems more in tune with my calm temperament; despite Hollywood being the most egregious kind of distraction. A distraction that I welcome with enthused apprehension.

Then, I think about the city I love, that I’ll eventually have to leave:  Toronto. Last night I was standing on the rooftop patio of the Manulife Building at Bloor and Yonge, looking out at the sublime skyline thinking about the one-directional nature of that affection. It dawned on me that in order to be recognized by my city, my city needs to be recognized in me. Toronto is in me, which is why it’s essential for me to make that move to an area where my identity is unique rather than a lost beacon without a ubiquitous sea of familiarity.

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VC2

February 25, 2014

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I miss rugby. I played for one season during my last year of high school. Our hard work paid off and we were invited to partake in the provincial championships; a competition that saw us attain the bronze medal. We had an intense quarterfinal that was decided by a single last minute kick from our side. We were down by one try. I had the ball as the scrum half, which is analogous to  a point guard in basketball, and I remember hearing the referee’s watch beep to signal the end of the match. The next stoppage of play would have dictated our return home, heads bowed low like Charlie Brown mumbling good grief. My team fought hard and performed a feat of attrition with the ball that ultimately led to us scoring and tying the game. The only determinant of a winner rested solely on our kicker. It was a rush that I had never felt before when my teammate kicked the ball between the goal posts. It was a beautiful game.  It’s a beautiful sport. My coaches tried to get me involved several years prior, but I had always opted to rest in the spring season. I played volleyball in the the fall and basketball in the winter, the spring season was for my body to recuperate. In my last year, I decide to buck up and try something new.

Reflecting on those moments reminds me of how I miss performing physical activity that is, if not more intense than my high school period. In university, I simply focused on my weightlifting which didn’t improve too much, but I tried to stay as lean as possible. These days, things have slowed down even more. I sprained the muscles around my right abdomen while performing a perfectly-postured squat the other day. Every time I hit the gym, I risk inflating the area. It’s vexing and I have to take some time off to rest. Unfortunately, I’ve never  been the type to wait things out. It’s not in my genome. Back in Guinea, I was an active child, but North America forces you into this hermit-like world of seclusion. Especially with the snow in Toronto, for 8 months of the year you’re basically a hamster running inside the wheel. But I’ve really been considering improving my cardiovascular health. Starting volleyball again, running, joining a league of some sort. Maybe even rugby. All to bring me back to a more active lifestyle.

 

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VC1

February 23, 2014

 

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I spent 3 weeks in Senegal this past summer, helping nurse my mother back to health. I took a day to just walk around Dakar, a flaneur trying to clear his head. Finding myself in a small pirogue bounding over waves towards the Island of Ngor, I saw this homuncular being helping the “captain.”  This picture is a testament of my love for Senegal. There’s something inherent in this picture that constantly makes me go back to scan and extract some kind profound meaning. I have difficulty expressing it, and any further attempt would be prosaic. I’ll just take it for what it is. Something sublime. Neither elation, nor distress. An uncomfortable stillness. My father really likes this photograph. It just reminds me to continue capturing beautiful images. Chase the sublime, the aesthetic of beauty, grandeur. Don’t worry about being profound or eloquent. Sometimes simplicity is far more effective than loquacious precision. Having said that, this is where I’ll stop.

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Words To

February 23, 2014

A couple of years ago, I submitted a piece of writing to a site that requested its followers to reflect on life. It was called Words From (the piece can be found here.) I thought it was  a beautiful concept but the site’s been inactive since 2009. I wonder if the idea of reflection is inherently difficult to sustain over a  long period of time. The basis for the introspection leads individuals to lament past transgressions as well as express nostalgia. So I’ve decided to start a series I’d like to call V Cards for me to express my sentiments regarding the future. How my past and present will inform tomorrow.

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December 13, 2013

I completed my residency at the Canadian Film Centre in Toronto last night. It’s been a profound and challenging experience wrought with tragedy and elation. I lost my mother to cancer this summer, and went right back into developing my first feature film at the Centre. So, I haven’t really allowed myself to mourn. My emotions have just been suppressed. I’m not one for reflection, so I’ll stay away from any prosaic form of introspection but there’s something to be said about the anarchic nature of the universe, and the individual’s responsibility in extrapolating some sort of meaning. The amount of pain, passion, and pleasure i’ve thrust into this script is the only proactive way I know how to commemorate and celebrate my mother’s spirit. I’m thankful that I’ve had a chance, at the Centre, to explore the notions of who I am and where I come in a more profound way. This script, this film is a testament to that and I can’t wait for all of you to see it. La Lotta Continua.

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Dead Cat Bounce

September 28, 2013

After several months of anticipation, I was able to screen Dead Cat Bounce during TIFF. While not an official section of TIFF, a private screening was organized at the Spoke Club, here in Toronto. Great response, many friends and cast members were able to make it. Just to make sure you don’t feel left out, here’s the 15 minute short. Enjoy.

Dead Cat Bounce from John Virtue on Vimeo.

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Japanese New Wave

April 2, 2013

Around the same time Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Agnes Varda, Jean-Pierre Melville and the sublime Eric Rhomer were at the forefront of what film critics dubbed the French New wave, there was a likeminded and transgressive film movement in Japan pushing the technical boundaries of cinema. While dubbed  the Japanese New Wave, newcomers to Japanese cinema shouldn’t view it as a derivative form of its homonym. Instead, I’d like to think of it as an organic movement whose incipience was ingrained under the same circumstances as its French counterpart. These new waves can be identified as movements exploring urban malaise; expressing discontent with the so-called progress procured by the modern world. Globally, the 1960s was a transformational decade which saw a global reappraisal of post-war identities. Specifically within Japan, as its surrender after the war led to an American reformation of its constitution by General McArthur, a new identity began to emerge. Japan, which had previously been a very insular and closed society, saw itself opening up to the world in a very expeditious way. As such, I’d like to think that the Japanese New Wave was the result of the confrontation between the Japanese identity and hegemonic international influences. Yet, the Japanese were very successful at creating something new, almost a pastiche that  is such an inherent quality of the New Wave. They were able to fuse their traditional culture with international sensibilities. A great example is how the yakuza became a modern appraisal of the traditional samurai. So, I’d like to refer you to two Yakuza films that emerged within this period that I appreciate greatly: Pale Flower by Mashiro Shinoda and Branded to Kill by Seijun Suzuki.

Pale Flower stars the cool Ryo Ikebe as a Yakuza hitman who falls in love with beautiful girl with a gambling problem. The lighting is exquisite, the acting subtle, and the ending sublime.  Here’s an excerpt:

The latter, Branded to Kill is a surreal and absurdist picture about another hitman who competes with his colleagues to be dubbed the number 1 in their field. The chaotic production of this film itself deserves a post of its own. For now, you’ll have to settle with this clip:

 

 

 

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February 16, 2013

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Dead Cat Bounce (BHS)

February 7, 2013

It’s been almost a year since I last discussed a new project with you. I apologize for that. Patience is a virtue. In the past, I’ve worked really hard at failing to satisfy this adage. Yet, after many trials and tribulations, I was able to withstand a propensity towards a prolific output to provide you with something subtle, understated, and brooding. DEAD CAT BOUNCE is a neo-noir that follows a pickpocket through one cold, sordid night. Here are some behind the scenes photographs.

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Reg Hartt’s Cineforum

December 12, 2012

I suppose you could say Reg Hartt is an eccentric man. His sweater collection is that of legend. His furrowed (waxed?) eyebrows demand your undivided attention. I concede that eccentricity, at times, can be an excuse to don affectations. But when Reg Hartt speaks, the tangential spurts of information and the verbatim quoting of infamous passages reveal a mind wrought with danger, passion, and incredulity towards authority figures. This makes the Cineforum the ideal place to watch a film inToronto. Film, in essence, is a subversive art. What better place to watch film than in a subversive environment.

I’ve seen the following films at Reg Hartt’s Cineforum: Bunuel’s L’age Dor and Un Chien Andalou, Jacques Tati’s Traffic, Friz Lang’s Metropolis  with a Kraftwerk soundtrack prepared by Reg. Prior to each viewing, I was treated to an introduction. He’s prone to making bold and contentious statements: “if you come from money, you can’t be an artist.”  But I like hearing him talk. In the same fashion that Slavoj Zizek’s dialectic has a didactic poetry, Reg maneuvers through various topics while still maintaining an engaging thorough line.  I think that ability differentiates him from a crazy person. Reg Hartt presents his personality in a Dalinean sense, the cultivation of his identity is his art. As ludicrous as this may sound, it adds to the cinematic experience.

If you see him riding around on his bicycle, placing his poster, please say hello.
Ask what he thought of the copy of Irreversible I gave him. I still don’t know if he’s recovered. The following picture seems answer that: not really.


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Tarantino and Postmodernity

December 11, 2012

I found an interesting paper from the University of South Africa regarding the postmodern elements of Pulp Fiction and Reservoir dogs.  Great read.

Abstract

 Baudrillard’s Hyperreality and Lyotard’s
Metanarratives in Selected Tarantino Visual Tropes

This dissertation examines two films directed by Quentin Tarantino, whom I have situated as a postmodern film director, within the theoretical context of the philosophies of two postmodern philosophers: Jean Baudrillard and Jean-François Lyotard. I argue that the major institutions of society, such as the family and religion, are viewed as grand narratives, in Lyotard’s sense of the term, which Tarantino repeatedly subverts. Overlapping with this intersection of Lyotard’s philosophy in Tarantino’s films is the Baudrillardian loss of the real, which manifests as hyperreality in many scenes. I suggest that Tarantino makes a conscious effort to create such hyperreality with the creation of playful signifiers in his films. I examine selected scenes to find Baudrillard’s “successive phases of the image” (Baudrillard 2010:6) that lead to the creation of a simulacrum. The compelling intersections between the creation of Baudrillardian simulacra and the subversion of Lyotard’s grand narratives are explored within selected scenes which are deconstructed by means of film narratology, semiotic analysis and narrative analysis. The combination of the various methods of media research in this thesis enables what Jane Stokes calls “a more textured understanding” (2008:27) of the films under discussion. Aclose reading from a semiotic point of view facilitates a deconstruction of some obscure elements, such as the embedded meaning in lyrics and dialogue or the messages implicit in the mise en scène.

CLICK HERE FOR LINK.

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This past year, the Weinstein Company acquired the North American distribution rights to a very successful French Film. Les Intouchables is based on true story:  a friendship between a rich, erudite, white quadriplegic and his poor, black, vacuous aide. After a quick view, I was struck by the differences between archetypes and stereotypes in filmmaking.

In his book, A Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell proposed that stories across the globe share a commonality, a set of reoccurring characters and motifs. Within each story, characters inhabit certain archetypes; personality traits that reveal their past, present and future endeavors. Stereotypes, on the other hand, are a set of heuristic cues used to incorrectly categorize a person. I believe that the semantic implications of these two words determine and differentiate good versus bad storytelling.

An archetype settles on a personality trait and then adds socio-economic conditions as modifiers.  A stereotype would begin superficially, with race, sex, gender, social standing and subsequently flesh out the corresponding character traits. Archetypes tend to be progressive allowing anyone to inhabit vices and virtues. A stereotype is conservative in that it utilizes societal cues to maintain established expectacions. An archetype would begin with the internal motivations of a character before adding elements to differentiate them from others. The stereotype would begin with the phenotype and retroactively assert a character’s motivation. The interesting thing is this:  for the most part, the phenotype of an individual is static and can’t change. The internal motivations of an individual are volatile and thus create a better environment for conflict.

A Prophet by Jaques Audiard is a great example of an archetypal structure effectively used to create conflict.  The protagonist is a timid low-level crook thrown into prison and forced to ally himself with benefactors. This tactic guarantees his survival while shunning the kinship-based relationships that jail organically demands. Rather than focusing the film on his Arab lineage and socio-economic background, the film examines how this seemingly naive character maneuvers the most viperous elements of prison life. I say seemingly, because throughout the film we’re shown the emasculating extents our protagonist is willing go to sustain a level of humanity. He arrives at a point where losing his life becomes a welcomed escape from losing his sanity.

Les Intouchables, on the other hand, focuses on how socio-economic differences  make their odd coupling an avenue for comedy and pathos.  The depiction of the protagonist’s aid borders on racist as it taps into the mythology of the Magical Negro. The affluent paraplegic is the only character with an arch. The black character, while receiving ample amounts of screen time,  is used as conduit for the protagonist’s pursuit of his joie de vivre. It is a stock character, and a great example of a poorly thought out personality.

I hope you get a chance to watch both films, as they are truly great examples of contemporary French cinema. One is critically acclaimed, while the other, through the use of pathos, has garnered a lucrative box office result. The question I pose is this: can the effective use of pathos negate the weaknesses apparent in the script, specifically with reference to the portrayal of the characters? I believe that the use of pathos is effective until the archetypes used descend into stereotypes. At this point, the character ceases to exist, and becomes a mouth piece for archaic conventions.

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Camp de Thiaroye

November 30, 2012

Ousmane Sembene, the Senegalese writer/filmmaker, also considered as the father of African cinema, was celebrated for his didactic films. As Stanley Kramer did with his message films in North America, Ousmane Sembene infused his films with political and social examinations that attempted to extrapolate the contemporary conditions of Africans. His war film, Camp de Thiaroye, outlines the difficulties faced by African nations after the Second World War. The plot is fairly simple, yet, the story is transcendental. After the war, before the soldiers are sent back to their respective countries, they are housed in a camp as part of a transitional phase. The film is a fictional account of the massacre at Camp Thiaroye in 1944, after a mutiny against poor conditions and revocation of wages led to the murder of 35 French-West African soldiers.

The result of mixing various nationalities, and languages is the creation of a new and unified identity tied together by the use of broken french. While I initially viewed it as a portrayal of an uneducated, uncivilized group, the broken french is shown as an adaptation that allows the soldiers to organize themselves in the fight against french soldiers who refuse to pay them their proper wages. Students of African history will appreciate the parallels made between the way the soldiers are mistreated  and the decolonization phase of African nations.  The camp becomes a microcosm of the post-war identity crisis faced by both the french and their subordinate African states. It also helps to explain some of the reactions against the creation of Charles De Gaulles 5th Republic some 15 years later.

This is a great and unconventional war film.

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La Jetée

November 29, 2012

La Jetée is one of my favourite French New Wave films.  Let me rephrase that. La Jetée is my favourite science fiction film. If you’ve seen 12 Monkeys, you’re probably unaware of the fact that La Jetée was its precursor and inspired Terry Gilliam to make his masterpiece. It was directed by Chris Marker and through the use of still photos tells the story of a prisoner sent through time after a Third Wold War forces humans underground. His mission: to find help. While only 26 minutes long, the impact of the film is timeless. In just a few moments, the film transcends the “short” monicker and becomes an idealized picture, complete in every sense. I felt a sublime sense of jubilation watching the images materialize on the screen. I was captivated by the contrast of the photos and the use of a narrator to compensate for technological limitations.

While some might call La Jetée, by today’s production standards, a primitive science fiction film, it redeems itself with the originality of its story, the composition of selected photos and the humanism expressed through the main character’s struggle. It ultimately highlights that even with the remarkable capacity to travel through time, humans are more amazed and baffled by our ability to connect with one another. As sentimental as that may sound, the process through which we get to this point justifies the end. Because the search for a woman is the only reason that forces the main character to go back in time, I believe that Chris Marker is making the statement that Humanism is what the main character is inadvertently/inherently searching for.

 

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Paradise: Love

November 27, 2012

The first part of a planned trilogy,Love deals with an Austrian sex-tourist who visits Kenya for the carnal pleasures that only beach boys can provide. I first heard about the picture back in May when I was in Cannes. I had hoped to catch a showing, but the intention got lost in the maelstrom of all the important tasks I had to accomplish. Sleep, for example. Yet, the film chased me down and I finally acquiesced and gave it a view. I’m happy I did, and it is a film that I highly recommend.

It is a memetic exercise where shots are prolonged for extended periods of time. Every scene is a master shot, meaning the scene as a whole is viewed from start to finish from a respectable distance. No cutaways, close ups, dollies, or cranes; simply the point of view of an invisible, unidentified character. In essence, that character is us. The aesthetic composition and great mise-en-scène initially allows the audience to vicariously live through the main character who is wonderfully, tragically and humorously played by Margarete Tiesel. However, in this complex character study, where power roles become consistently reversed, we subsequently give up trying to root for a single character,  and begin to empathize with the tragedy of it all.  As  prosaic as it may sound, we’ve all been there before.

The film attempts to examine the power struggles experienced during the pursuit of physical, emotional and personal acceptance. The moment that encapsulates this idea is when Margarete’s character tells one of the Kenyan gigolos to “look into her eyes.” I recommend that you listen, and give the film a long hard look.

 

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Cannes 2012

July 8, 2012

One of the busiest weeks I’ve experienced in a long time. We booked a hotel in Juan Les Pins, which is a 10 min train ride to Cannes. A 300 million dollar yacht was docked about 200 meters away. Alex called it ugly. I called it an incentive.

We were productive, promoted the short, spoke to some prospective buyers.

I wish that the train staff had spent less time interlocking lips and focused more on the punctuality of trains. We missed two premieres as a result of this unpardonable inconvenience.

I deposited many a Euro at local culinary establishments, and ironically, the Italian restaurants were always the most convincing as per my palate.

Alex improved his French and the French atmosphere improved me.

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Londoner Interview

April 4, 2012

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An interview I recently did  with my alma mater regarding  Framed’s acceptance to screen at  Cannes.

A short film by alumnus John Virtue (Tafsir Diallo), BA’10, has been accepted to be shown at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival in May. “Framed” is about a screenwriter suffering from writer’s block who has to make a choice between saving his relationship with a demanding girlfriend or finding an ending to his epic screenplay. Born in Guinea, Virtue has called Toronto home since he was 12.

Below is a Q & A with Virtue. Click here to view a trailer of “Framed”.

Q. What inspired you to make “Framed”?

A. First and foremost, I’m thankful for my three years at CHRW Radio where I was nourished on a plethora of philosophies, political affiliations, and  musical inclinations. If it were not for Grant Stein, Michael Brown, Alicks Girowski, and all the volunteers at CHRW, I doubt I would have pursued this path.

Upon graduation in 2010, and prior to my self-imposed exile to Japan, I was given a book, “Stanley Kubrick: A Life in Pictures” as a token, anchor and memento of everything I had learned at CHRW regarding music, politics, social justice, and most importantly, the artistic integrity of film. As CHRW production director I was given a chance to exercise my creative faculties, including the production of A Christmas Carol from an Orson Welles script. CHRW is more than just a radio station. It’s where I consolidated my ideas. It’s where my film career began.

As for “Framed”, I wanted to explore the idea of how writing can be a solitary and anti-social endeavor. Prior to writing the script, I had recently returned from Japan, a week shy of the 2011 tsunami. I was staying with my only direct relative in Canada, my sister. My main inclination was to continuously write until I was able to acquire funding for my first film.  However, after two months of writing, meetings, and false promises, my sister began to externalize my impatience. She began pressuring me to find another form of employment, which ultimately led to various shouting matches. I used the cathartic nature of writing to exorcise my frustration. Hence, “Framed”. In the script, I utilized a young couple as surrogates because it’s a more dramatic relationship. Incidentally, I had friends in the arts who reported to me that they were suffering a similar condition.

Q. What led you to apply to Cannes? How competitive is it?

A. I had an acquaintance whom I met through my involvement with CHRW. He entered his short film to Cannes last year and was accepted. I subsequently viewed this short at the Wildsound Short Film Festival in Toronto and resolved that mine also had a good chance.

In terms of competition, I haven’t really focused on this component. I’m not there to compete but to celebrate the fact that a year after my intention to enter the film industry, I’ve made it to Cannes. Not many people can make that claim, and I’m also cognizant of the fact that I’ve had many individuals aid me in reaching this benchmark, including my co-producer Alexander Braff, my cameraman Christian Peterson, and my actors Calwyn Shurgold and Shailene Garnett.

Q. What are you working on right now?  

I just finished writing a comedy of manners, “Sick Kids” about my social circle. I entered Western with several of my high school friends and, after living in Saugeen our first year, five of us  decided to reside together off campus. During the ensuing three years, I started to realize that the basis of our friendship was an affiliation to the same high school. Consequently, as we started declaring different majors, socializing with different groups of people, our once close bond began to weaken. We were turning into different people. I wanted to explore how the dynamics of friendships change as individuals’ lives head into different directions. “Sick Kids” is about three childhood friends who decide to throw an exclusive university graduation party where an infinite number of uninvited guests appear. It was inspired by the the theatre of the absurd and the absurdist films of Spanish-born filmmaker Luis Bunuel.

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Several months ago, Piers Handling, CEO of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF),  lamented in an article to the Toronto Star on the lack of quality films in the wake of September 11th. In the article, he states,

And so to the post-9/11 world. Uncertainty rules. Confusion is the name of the game. Definition seems indeterminate. Polarization is increasing. Artists are searching for something, but the results have been found wanting. No new movement has appeared. Exciting trends are a distant mirage. Even the democratic possibilities offered by the digital revolution, a camera in everyone’s hands, has not produced a discernible difference.

September 11th was  a tragic event. 2,700 individuals were murdered and millions were affected. The fact that the incident occurred in New York City, the media capital of the world, meant that the image of the collapsing towers would self-replicate via every possible avenue, tormenting surviving victims for the ensuing months/years.

It profoundly altered something in me. I had just started  grade 9 at Mentor College and chose the incident as a topic for a speech.  I’m sure it had more impact on Handling, since the 26th edition of TIFF was already underway in Toronto. Having said that,  Mr. Handling overgeneralizes the impact Sept 11th should have had on cinema.  The following is by no means an effort to trivialize the impact September 11th had on its victims and their families.  Its aim  is to assess the impact of September 11th in the context of cinema and its viability as a catalyst for a film movement.

While it was a notable  global event, 9/11’s impact on cinema is marginal.  This  is why I find it difficult to understand Piers Handling’s reference to the terrorist attacks as a viable impetus for a new wave in cinema. What Handling does not state is that cinematic movements are determined by  gradual and consistent changes in the social, political and economic landscape. Italian Neorealism, as coined by Umberto Barbaro,  emerged out of the abject poverty witnessed under the reign of Mussolini . These changes were  gradual with the second world war and the occupation by Germany in ’43.  Vittorio De Sica’s Bicycle Thief , Fellini’s La Strada,  Rosselini’s Paisa, Visconti’s Ossessione are quintessential examples of how socio-political factors created a new cinematic paradigm.

Handling doesn’t differentiate how a gradual process and a punctuated event can impact history.  Punctuated events can be defined as  single temporally specific catastrophic events. The assassinations of JFK  and MLK, Hiroshima, Nagasaki,  the deposition of heads of states with the aids of phallic projectiles, the fall of the Berlin Wall; all of these accounts are punctuated events that exhibit symptoms of larger systemic issues. While the fall of the Berlin Wall may not have spurred a film movement, the Cold War was arguably what galvanized  the  fatalism and cynicism that formed Film Noir. Thus, September 11th, like the fall of the Berlin Wall, must be considered  a punctuated event and is incapable, on its own, of creating a film movement. A film? Yes. A movement? No.

In addition, he views  the event through a North American perspective by calling our contemporary time as a post-9/11 world. While it may have had a long-lasting emotional and psychological effect west of the Atlantic, the event doesn’t define, let’s say, the African or Asian experience. Or is the post-911 world only comprised of North America? It’s a misleading misnomer, somewhat akin to the egregious “post-racial” term that fails to acknowledge other societal forces that shape the zeitgeist.

Contextually, and globally, September 11th is a peripheral narrative.  Granted, the event was asymptomatic of nefarious elements brewing within world politics. However, as per the 9/11 commission, it did not create a new paradigm in international relations. It simply reinforced a  vicious cycle of a realist philosophy that had prevailed for centuries.  What I feel Handling is attempting to ascertain is something broader, something the neorealist theorist Kenneth Waltz  would consider a  systemic issue. He would add that it was systemic issue that was symptomatic of the perpetual  state of a world in conflict.

September 11th could also be described as what Samuel Huntington called a clash of civilizations. With reference to cinema, films about clashes of civilizations can create masterpieces;  such as the post-WWII African film movement led by Ousmane Sembene (La Noire De) which was reactionary to the European colonization of Africa.  However,  it must be noted that the slope can be  slippery. These films, notably war-related, can be propagandist  in the vein of Joseph Goebbels and are  infused with nationalism, melodrama, bias, and contempt for “the other.” Rosselini’s Roma, Citta Aperta is also a good example.

The circumstances that produce the best films are  caused by  conflicts within  civilizations, states, and nations. While the aforementioned pejoratives can arise in intra-civilization films, the level is attenuated.  The French New Wave was a response to the formalism of previous french filmmakers.  Francois Truffaut called it a “Tradition of Quality,” in his 1954 Cahiers Du Cinema article “A Certain Tendency of French Cinema.” Italian Neorealism was a reaction to  “white telephone” films that attempted to reassert the conservative image of Italy as one of grandeur and magnificence under the leadership of Mussolini. The rise of the Polish Film School was a result of the increased liberalization of a country trapped on the wrong side of the Iron Curtain. As for  Handling’s statement regarding his hopes for the Arab Spring as a precursor to a radical film movement in the middle-east, I believe that these filmmakers must first attack the established mores of  their respective societies.

There are parts of this article that I do agree with, such as the following statement:

Independent cinema may be at a crucial turning point. It is too soon to tell.

With the increased democratization of filmmaking opportunities and cheaper production costs, a new epoch of independent filmmaking has arrived. Somewhat reminiscent of how the low budget films of John Cassavetes influenced the French New Wave in the 50’s, which subsequently  influenced the revival of American cinema in the 70’s, young filmmakers are increasingly liberated from the confines of budget, time, and most importantly, talent. With liberalization, and  the decrease of barriers to entry, the level of talent is impressively low. However, it’s only a matter of time until the  language of digital filmmaking is consolidated and young filmmakers can effectively and persuasively create their masterpieces.

A more engaging article by TIFF’s CEO would have focused on the lack of film movements emerging in response to the increased democratization of cinema. This democratization of film is the gradual process that could essentially create the new film movement Mr. Handling is looking for. I’m actually quite surprised that Nollywood, a Nigerian film movement which has emerged predominantly due to the digital revolution, isn’t up to his standard. Rather than dismissing digital democratization of filmmaking as a missed opportunity, Handling should understand that it’s a gradual process, not a punctuated event. Time must be given for the young paparazzo to acquire the skills to become comparable, if not better, than  Fellini.

 

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Cannes We Go

March 20, 2012

It’s official!

 

 

My short film “Framed” has been selected to screen at the 65th Cannes Film Festival.

Words can’t express the elation that I’m currently exuding. First, I’ll allow this surreal sentiment  to subside. Then, I’ll prepare a short piece to express my thoughts. In the interim, here’s the trailer.

 

 

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God is Dead

March 1, 2012

 

Sisyphus by Titian

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him.

-Nietzsche

In grade 6, I had  teacher whose presence I abhorred. My disdain for her infiltrating  my proxemic circle was not due to any nefarious tendencies, but due to  her  good intentions.  Example:  she discouraged the “meaning of life” as a topic for my speech, citing it as difficult subject for a child to tackle. My aim was to assess the different perspectives on the matter; yet,  she proceeded to outline that I was too young to grasp the concept of mortality  in an existential capacity. She wanted to protect me. For that, I will forever hate her.

I’m 24 and confident in asserting that searching for the teleological value of living is simply nonsensical.  Life is absurd and filled with inconsistencies. The universe is indifferent causing life on earth to be what Thomas Hobbes once stated, as ” poor, nasty, brutish and short.”

Human nature, however, is neither good nor bad. It is simply complex.  It is a compendium of  rational drives inherited through natural selection and the inculcation of empirical experience.  While we are driven by innate forces, the circumstances under which we  subject ourselves determine who we become. (Note that I stated “subject ourselves to” rather than  “subjected to” because I do feel we have a say in the matter.)

Maybe, the emergence of God is also part of our innate drive to  attain justice. As a way of coping with the absurdity, individuals conjured up the concept of a Just God to subside the cognitive dissonance that arises. Suffering changes from being a part of life’s   experience to  a test  from an omniscient  being who will reward us for our plight. An absurd jungle becomes a Just World.

Then I think that the next most powerful reason is the wish for safety, a sort of feeling that there is a big brother who will look after you. That plays a very profound part in influencing people’s desire for a belief in God. 

-Bertrand Russell, Why I’m Not a Christian

In addition, God may be  a way to extrapolate a certain meaning in the universe. To justify existence in an eschatalogical sense: there is an end of times and the world is just. However, in my absurd view, the only meaning that can be attained is one  that an individual creates: to be productive and self-sufficient for one’s family, friends and society. Aristotle once stated that we’re zoon politikons, political beasts, and  that justice arises when we engage in politics. By politics, I mean to say the engagement in civic duty. I concur that the  pursuit of justice, or active engagement in politics and society will ultimately  lead to eudaimonia, happiness, and should be the pursuit of the individual.

In an Aristotelian sense, justice is the continuous action within politics and society. This is an element that I discovered in Camus and his Myth of Sisyphus. Camus noted that even though Sisyphus continues in his absurd eternal quest to push the boulder up the hill, you must imagine him happy. Where my opinion differs with Camus is his belief in the inherent vice of society. He warns the individual to be a fringe hermit-like creature. I oppose this supposition. I believe that the universe is absurd and that society is  a way of coping ( Samuel Becket , in Waiting for Godot, calls it passing the time.) Society keeps us occupied and less contemplative of the fact that chaos hangs on a single thread like the proverbial sword of Damocles.

The difference between the absurd  world view and religious one is that the absurd prespective is self aware and cognizant of the fact that  civilization is elusive: it is a tool to pass the time.  It is a simulacrum where an individual can create a meaning.  While religion can also be considered a simulacrum which, like existentialism, can sustain the individual, it also has the capacity to  impose  rules which attempt to remove an individual’s self-determination. I find this immoral.  Any doctrine that attempts at suppressing the liberty of the individual  is not an adequate constitution to internalize. The absurdist world view is an existential philosophy which argues that the individual must and should be proactive in his search for  existential validation. Thus, the drive to attain meaning need  not come from an external source, such as God, but can and should be found within the individual.

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

 

 

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Jack Vettriano Paintings

February 25, 2012

I spent 6 months in Japan. While there, I wrote my first screenplay and used some of Jack Vettriano’s paintings as inspiration. Here are some of my favourites:

 

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Framed Poster Inspiration

February 13, 2012

I’ve never been very fond of film posters that use  still photography to market the film. I don’t mean to generalize, there are some great posters that use still photography to great effect, such as Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction. But generally many of these types of posters are devoid of any creativity. I believe that it attenuates the creative capacities of the graphic designer.

I took that into consideration while conceptualizing a film poster for my short film. We still used a still photograph for the teaser poster which can be viewed below. The only exception I can provide when using a still photograph as your poster is to have an interesting composition. This is predominantly the DOP/photographer’s responsibility . In my case, it was my DOP, Christian Peterson, who captured the photograph below.

to which the main title script was added  to get this:

The slight contre-jour effect is very effective in portraying a nuanced mystery.  It reminded me of  the poster for PTA’s Punch Drunk Love.

I spent some time reviewing my favourite film posters in order to get inspiration for my project. I found that illustrated posters were more effective in outlining the essence of each film. In addition, they added a modern component that was aesthetically pleasing.  Find below  the posters used as  references.

Godard

 

Kubrick

Scorsese

Fellini

Hitchcock

I provided my graphic designer, Christian Bortey, with these reference to create a poster that encapsulated the main theme of the short film: detachment. He utilized some of the production images as models, and  this was the final product

 

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Writing Without Writing

February 10, 2012

The aim of this blog-a-clef is to keep you from doing whatever it is you should really be doing. Maybe it’s a manuscript, for some it’s a screenplay but for most of you it’s an active social life.

The topic of this missive is to discuss the aforementioned title. Writing Without Writing. What does that mean? I have no clue, and I wrote it.

But my cunning intuition regarding my thoughts tells me that the title might refer to my process. Every writer has a process. Some delve into the cavernous dwellings of the nearest lavatory hoping a release of their essence is correlated with a splatter of verbiage on the page. Others are unique in that they simply sit down and write. I hate these people. One of the writers I admire, David Milch, advised television writers in a New Yorker article, that every day, for at least 20 mins, a writer should write about two characters sitting in a room having a normal conversation. What does that mean? A normal conversation? Is that an oxymoron? I think so. But I tried this method, and after 20 mins, I quit and reverted back to old ways.
I hope you’re still wondering about my process. Well, allow me to return to my title: Writing Without Writing (just in case you forgot.)

It means that at points of paralyzing depression (read: writer’s block (read: laziness) I spend more time daydreaming about my characters than actually writing typing anything down. I allow myself to marinate in my imagination. The infinite chasm that is inside my cranium sometimes shapefshifts into a quagmire waiting to suck in any inkling of creativity that dares to insert its curious foot.

Eventually, I emerge out from the abyss through the simple power of my will. I brush myself off, and prepare do it all over again if need be.

Rather than working on my writing abilities, I first begin with intention. I want to write. Second, I create a precondition for the scene:  subtext.  If my scene can materialize without the use of dialogue and yet the important notions are apparent, then the scene will write itself.  After putting Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue on my audio player, I pull the laptop ever so close, and my fingers begin to intercourse with  the keys.

 

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