The Melbourne International Film Festival
A hidden gem Down Under
By Briana Berg

Mention Melbourne to an Australian and he'll usually reply that it always rains there. Curiously, not many people bring up Melbourne's International Film Festival (or MIFF as it is known Down Under), even though it is the oldest established film festival in the Southern Hemisphere. Personally, I was so taken by Melbourne's film festival that I couldn't tell you whether or not it rained there during my stay. I actually spent most of my time in the theaters and barely even saw the city. In my recollection, it was quiet and a tad gloomy, similar in many ways to a small European city with its tramways and low buildings (minus the palm trees). On the other hand, the festival, the first film festival I ever attended, was an experience I'll never forget. It was a movie lover's dream come true: imagine seeing up to 6 or 7 films a day for 3 weeks straight, without walking more than 5 minutes from one theater to the next! There was a mouthwatering 350 pictures from over 40 countries to choose from. Tickets to the films I was interested in -and believe me, there were many - were rather easy to score and the festival passes were reasonably priced. If you ask me, the 50th Melbourne International Film Festival was as good as it gets.

To my surprise, few screenings sold out during the first 10 days. Melbournians didn't seem to be very aware of the event; people would often stop and ask what we were queuing for. But they caught on during the last week and filled all four theaters up to the brim. A non-competitive festival, MIFF promoted Australian productions. There was an emphasis on British and Asian movies as well, due to Australia's ties to England and its geographical proximity to Asia and the South Pacific. The main program was the International Panorama, made up of current, high profile productions. A few of these films were rather old news for a New Yorker like me, but many came straight from Cannes. All in all, there was something for everyone in Melbourne. There were selections dedicated to Latin American cinema, horror movies, music and animated features, several sideshows exploring digital media, and countless forums and Q&A sessions with film directors. The worldwide documentary selection was extensive; two retrospectives singled out German filmmaker Werner Herzog and Japanese director Sogo Ishii. There was even a special-interest category, Mach 1, screening high-energy, action-packed films like Scratch, the history of hip-hop and Tic Tac 2 Heelflip: Australia's Skate-boarding History.

Another pleasant characteristic of this festival was that it didn't cater to Hollywood hits. With its preponderance of indie movies, MIFF was similar to an Aussie Sundance. I didn't worry about landing yet another irrational, adrenaline-ridden blockbuster. Of course there were a few exceptions: Brotherhood of the Wolf for example was a nauseating combination of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon moves and American Indian beliefs, mixed in with a French 18th century tale about a supernatural beast. For me, Atanarjuat, The Fast Runner, Disco Pigs and My Brother Tom were the festival's three highlights. Based on an Eskimo legend, Zacharias Kunuk's Atanarjuat is the first screenplay written in the Inuit language. A nomadic community is torn apart by forbidden desires stirred up by an unknown shaman. Evil prevails over the years until Atanarjuat, the Fast Runner and his brother Amaqjuaq, the Strong One, are born into the village to set the balance right. In contrast to current trends, the movie was slow-paced and refreshingly devoid of special effects. The icy expanse and vast blue skies were simply breathtaking in the luminous Arctic light. This combination made for 172 minutes of spellbinding screen time.
On the other hand, the Irish Disco Pigs was similar to a modern Romeo and Juliet. This promising debut feature by Kirsten Sheridan, daughter of acclaimed director Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In The Name of The Father) moves back and forth between fairytale and realism. The film charts Pig and Runt's symbiotic relationship, from its beginnings moments after birth to its violent disintegration as teenage hormones kick in. Viewers were in for an emotional ride, only intensified by Cillian Murphy's brilliant performance.
My Brother Tom also put a contemporary spin on the classic teenager love story. This auspicious debut feature by Dom Rotheroe centers on a boy living out in the woods. He creates a make-believe world out there to escape the abuse he is subjected to at home. Tom hooks up with Jessica, and they develop a childlike relationship, both tender and crude. Rotheroe leaves the paths of facile romance and focuses on sordid realities with an almost unbearable intensity. Fragility, violence, love and despair are the words that best define My Brother Tom and Disco Pigs. These movies lingered on in my head for quite some time -call me an incurable romantic!

While Melbourne's film festival didn't comprise a feature-length competition, there was however a competition for short films. For forty years, this event has allowed fledgling filmmakers to showcase their productions -Gillian Armstrong, Paul Verhoeven and Peter Greenaway amongst others entered short features here. This year, MIFF's International Short Film Competition screened over one hundred and eighty shorts and handed out eleven awards, several singling out Australian productions. Not usually very impressed by shorts, I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of what was shown at the festival. Hadar Fridlich's Grief garnered a well-deserved City of Melbourne Award for Best Short Film - or Grand Prix. This Israeli short depicts a cabbie coming to terms with the idea that his son just committed suicide. He is heading home after the funeral when an old woman gets into his cab at a stop sign. The distressed father cannot bring himself to tell her why he is off-duty and reluctantly accepts to drive her to her destination. One customer leads to another and he ends up working all day. Yet in the end, these encounters slowly bring his repressed feelings to the surface. Fridlich skillfully taps into life's small ironies and avoids the trappings of excessive sentimentality, deriving strength from simplicity. My favorite "short" was the 52-minute My Mother India, which premiered at the festival and received a MIFF Outstanding Achievement in a Video Production Award. In this very personal documentary, director Safina Uberoi takes a look at her Aussie-Indian heritage. Although the film centers on Uberoi's mother, an Australian woman who left everything to follow her Indian husband, the real narrative thread is the director's past identity issues. The documentary weaves together her childhood shame at her mom's underwear drying outside like a flag indicative of her difference, her grandfather's stint as a guru, her father's conversion to the Sikh faith, the era of civil strife in India that altered their lives, and finally, her first glimpse of Australia. Beyond a fascinating personal history, it is the unflinching honesty of Uberoi's exposé that makes this feature outstanding.

In addition to the short film competition, there were special screenings of early short features by some of Down Under's greatest filmmakers, from Jane Campion to Geoffrey Wright to Peter Weir. This rare opportunity -especially for an American- only heightened my budding interest in Aussie cinema. The Australian showcase presented a selection of current local films, including Robert Connolly's The Bank and Richard Lowenstein's hilarious, harebrained diary of a serial roommate He Died With a Felafel in His Hand on opening and closing nights. But while these sessions sold-out, moviegoers didn't seem as interested in the condition of Australian cinema, a major issue at the festival. The state of Australian cinema, its place on the international scene and how to promote it were recurring questions at MIFF. This was even the topic of a forum lead by film critic Tom Ryan and producer Phillip Adams. But few people attended the discussion, in Adams' opinion because "Australian film is still a stranger in its own land." With the US holding large market shares in Australia and without a clear-cut style differentiating Aussie cinema from American movies, a key question was what makes a film Australian. The Australian Showcase somewhat illustrated this issue. Although director Rolf de Heer is Aussie, one would never guess that his latest production, The Old Man Who Read Love Stories, originates from Australia with its Amazonian jungle setting, its Latin characters and the presence of Hollywood big-shot Richard Dreyfuss in the main role. On the other hand, Steve Jacobs' Aussie-Spanish collaboration, La Spagnola, dealt with issues faced by immigrants coming to Australia in the 60es. This topic gave the movie a strong national feel -even if the film was in three different languages.

From China to Japan to Korea, the regional focus program enabled me to see a great variety of Asian films over a short period of time, something that isn't possible even in New York. I was struck by the creativity, impressive filming techniques and elaborate scenarios displayed by these productions, notwithstanding the fact that they were most often very entertaining. The South Korean Memento Mori, a high school based, supernatural thriller and lesbian love story constructed through series of flashbacks, was quite a ride. An unusual combination of genres, this film managed the rare feat of being scary and moving at the same time. Shohei Imamura provided a more poetic experience with Warm Water Under A Red Bridge, the tale of one man's symbolic quest for the Golden Buddha -or happiness. Japanese director Sogo Ishii's intense productions were an especially thrilling discovery. His latest feature, the highly charged Electric Dragon 80,000 Volts, pits together oddballs like lizard investigator Dragon Eye Morrison and electric repairman Thunderbolt Buddha. This stark black & white movie has the pace of an MTV video, the feel and characters of a Japanese sci-fi cartoon, and features Ishii's own metal band Mach 1.67 on the soundtrack. It was an interesting picture, but didn't top his 1994 thriller Angel Dust, in my opinion. This earlier production's tranquil atmosphere deceptively veils a nerve-racking hunt between a forensic doctor and a ruthless serial killer. As in most of Ishii's films, the quick transitions from fast-paced editing to slow motion sequences sustain a tension that lasts throughout the picture.

So movies were first and foremost in Melbourne. But what about the nightlife? With the exception of the black tie reception on opening night, glamorous parties weren't Melbourne's lot. The red carpet weekend affairs at the Town Hall next door, absolutely unrelated to the festival, only made this more obvious. In this respect, MIFF had a rather low-key atmosphere. I tracked down what seemed the place to be during the festival: the Who Weekly, a bar/forum/party space sponsored by a local entertainment magazine. But even on a late Saturday evening, the ambience there was mellow: no loud music, wild dancing, or glitz and glam. On the other hand, this was the best place to mingle with some of the 70+ filmmakers present at the festival. What more is there to ask for? MIFF might be far from the party frenzy of star-studded film festivals, but for a great selection of off-the-beaten-track movies, an opportunity to discuss films with filmmakers, or a chance to learn more about Aussie cinema, this is the best place to be. In my opinion, it doesn't get much better than this.

Published in Guerilla Filmmaker, Fall/Winter 2001, Volume 3 - Issue 1, pp.12-13.