Hurrah! Forget those polar blasts, because just about the very best time of the year is upon us. Yes, I'm talking about the fact that the New Zealand International Film Festival (NZIFF) is on, right now, even as we speak. I know this for a fact, because instead of my usual thing of looking at the programme and circling lots of films and then going to none, I actually have already been to a festival film, on the opening night no less.
The film the Beloved and I went to see is called The Lobster and, to me, it was a brilliant choice to open the festival because it reinforced everything I think about film festivals. Not to give too much away, The Lobster stars Colin Farrell as a man who checks into a hotel and if he doesn't find a partner by the time he has to check out he will be turned into the titular lobster. If this seems like a weird plot, that is because it is, yet it still makes more sense than every plot of every Transformers film.
One of my favourite things to do with the NZIFF is to read the review quotes in the festival programme, then try to imagine what the film will be about. My favourite quotes this year include "... a positive carnival of transgression" (Tale of Tales); "One of those films in which nothing happens" (The Postman's White Nights); and "... Monty Python sketches as written by an existentialist philosopher" (A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence). In the programme The Lobster was described as an "... exquisite dark comedy in the age of Tinder". Personally, I preferred the one I found in The Guardian that said it was "superbly clenched" because "clenched" is one of those words that always causes intrigue, no matter the context.
To me, the perfect festival film should be intriguing on as many levels as possible. It doesn't have to be a perfect film, or even a particularly good film, just as long as you leave the cinema wondering what the &^%$ it was you just watched. In terms of being inexplicable, The Lobster ticked the box perfectly, and definitely set an ideal tone for the NZIFF.
It is directed by a Greek bloke and is one of those Euro-films where the money is cobbled together from all over the show (Ireland, France, Britain) but only finally gets funded when you throw a bankable star (i.e. someone the Americans have heard of) into the already baffling cultural mix. All of this makes The Lobster ideal film-festival fodder in that the audience are engaged right from the beginning, asking themselves all manner of questions. What the %^$#? Did that just happen? How the hell did this get made? And, ultimately: is this great or is this complete *&^%, because I have no freaking idea any more.
Film-festival films should make you think, and the best thing about The Lobster was that when it dragged or when I'd simply got so lost I needed a rest from it, I could think about what animal I would choose to turn into, if the circumstances arose. A narwhal, maybe? What about an ocelot? A tuatara lying round on a warm rock all day not doing very much for years and years might be fun for a while - or would it just end up being boring? Audience involvement on so many levels, even while you're not involved with the actual film.
Even the ending of The Lobster is perfect film festival fare. Again, without giving too much away, the programme describes it as "semi-ambiguous". Personally, I think something is either ambiguous or it isn't ambiguous, and to describe something as "semi-ambiguous" actually only adds another level of ambiguity to the ambiguity that already exists. Of course another hyphenated-word for "semi-ambiguous" could also be "cop-out" and, as the Beloved and I watched the people who are important to the NZIFF troop off to the opening night party, I hoped they would debate the ending, because debate is something film festival films should inspire. I also hoped they would eat crayfish nibbles, because that would be like eating little bits of Colin Farrell.
At our own after-party at a bar, as the Beloved and I consumed non-crayfish nibbles, I decided what animal I should like to be turned into, if the circumstances ever arose: a tui. Tui are cool and they sing beautifully and everyone likes them and they seem relatively predator-proof and they can fly (which would be awesome) and sometimes they even fly around while drunk, which is okay if you're a tui and not okay if you're a human. Also they have a beer named after them, which can't be a bad thing.
- Canvas