Foreign Steamy Romance

Read my previous Frameline post here.

In writing about the films I’ve seen during this year’s festival, I’ve looked for unifying themes. I figure my posts are scattered enough as it is—might as well try for some semblance of cohesion. Luckily for me, the three movies I saw after Dare have one element in common. You know, other than the whole gay thing.

OK, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. I’m talking about fantasy. Now these are vastly different movies: Drool (2009) is a dark comedy; Rückenwind (2009)—or Light Gradient—is a surreal drama; and Pornography (2009) bills itself as a thriller, but I’d label it horror. All three, however, contain some level of fantasy, whether in terms of plot or execution.

In some ways, Drool is a fairy tale. Well, a fairy tale with an abusive husband, homicide, and lesbian sex, but that’s not any more extreme than what you’d find in Grimm’s. (Seriously, have you read any of those stories lately? Pretty damn rough.) Anora (Laura Harring) is a belabored housewife who dreams of a better life. Her life takes a turn for the interesting when she meets the vibrant Imogene Cochran (Jill Marie Jones) and, uh, shoots her asshole husband.

Warning: mildly NSFW, minor spoilers for Drool, Rückenwind, and Pornography.

There are actual fantasy sequences in Drool. How interesting that Anora actually inserts her husband Cheb (Oded Fehr) into them, as though she really can’t imagine anything better than an (admittedly nicer) version of the man she lives with. But Drool is also a fantasy on a larger scale. First, there’s the whole “getting away with murder” plot, which, OK, not entirely implausible, but Drool doesn’t go out of its way to make the scenario realistic. There’s also a nice Wizard of Oz-y touch: as Anora breaks free from her drab life and moves onto a new one with Imogene, the film becomes infused with glorious color. Of all the films I’ve seen at Frameline this year, Drool is my favorite—this is a warm, delightful, easy-to-love movie. It handles the serious subject matter with grace and humor. Kudos to writer-director Nancy Kissam and an exceptional cast.

And now onto a movie I liked a whole lot less. Rückenwind, or Light Gradient in English, is one of those head-scratchers that’s supposed to be thought-provoking. To me, it was just slow. Honestly, I don’t know how to piece together the story, which involves boyfriends Johann (Sebastian Schlecht) and Robin (Eric Golub) getting lost in the woods. There they encounter Grit (Iris Minich) and her son Henri (Denis Alevi), who invite the boys to stay at their home.

What else happens? I wish I could tell you. I don’t want to spoil the ending—not that I could if I wanted to—but suffice it to say it left me completely baffled. The film is a fantasy in that it all seems make-believe, but it’s also open-ended in the most frustrating way: 75 monotonous minutes and that’s it? Nevertheless, there are interesting moments, and had Rückenwind expanded on those, I would have liked it more. Don’t be too shocked—these have to do with sex. Early on in the film, there’s a particularly interesting sex scene between Johann and Robin. It’s violent, possibly non-consensual. Given what we know about the couple, it’s likely an act, but what is this moment doing in there? Why do they play at rape? Then there’s the relationship between the boys and the young Henri, which seems fraught with homoerotic tension. Neither of these issues is successfully explored. Regardless of whatever writer-director Jan Krüger is trying to get at, Rückenwind is far too subtle for its own good.

But confusion isn’t always a bad thing. Case in point: Pornography, one of the most complex and difficult films I’ve seen recently. Still, I greatly enjoyed it. After the screening, there was a Q&A with the cast in crew, including David Kittredge, who wrote and directed the movie. He spoke about the film as a puzzle and said anyone should be able to piece it together. Frankly, I think his proximity to the project may have clouded his judgment a little. Pornography clicked with me, but I wouldn’t say I ever fully “got it.”

It’s hard to talk about the plot without giving too much a way. The basic story is as follows. Years ago, gay porn star Mark Anton (Jared Grey) disappeared, leaving behind several successful movies and rumors of a snuff tape. A journalist named Michael (Matthew Montgomery) gets in over his head investigating the mystery. Meanwhile, another porn star, Matt Stevens (Pete Scherer) decides to write and direct The Mark Anton Story, and his production takes a turn for the strange. There’s a lot going on here, and Pornography is definitely a movie you have to see for yourself, preferably more than once. The best way I can explain the feel is Mulholland Dr. meets The Ring meets The Fluffer, maybe with a bit of Videodrome thrown in. Does that make any sense?

Pornography raises some very important questions: What does the fantasy of porn do for its viewers? How do you separate that from the reality of sex? What are the effects of objectification, both for the actors and the consumers? This is not an easy film, because there are no easy answers. I think the fact that Pornography is a horror movie—again, I would choose that designation over thriller—fits, too. Fantasy is scary. On one level, there’s the aspect of obsession, which returns repeatedly throughout the film. But there’s also something frightening about trying to find the reality behind fantasy, a truth that many of us don’t actually want to know. Anyway, I wish I could offer more profound feedback on a movie that really stumped me, but I’m going to have to watch at least a couple more times before it really sinks in.

Next up: Venkovský ucitel (2008), Clapham Junction (2007).

All images courtesy Frameline.