My Winnipeg (2007)
★★★ / ★★★★
In Guy Maddin’s surrealistic and challenging documentary, he recounted his life back when he was still living in snowy Winnipeg, Manitoba. Mostly shot in black-and-white, Maddin covered a plethora of topics in which obsession was something they had in common. First, his relationship with his mother (Ann Savage, Maddin’s real-life parent), both a frightening and a fascinating figure. “Maternal” was not a word anybody would label her: One of the most memorable scenes was, through reenactment, when Maddin’s sister, Janet (Amy Stewart), came home, in shock, because she ran over a deer. A typical parent would be relieved that nothing worse had happened. But Mother, through her strange insight, confronted her daughter and made her feel guilty about having sex with a man on the back of her truck. The reenactment was haunting and I could only imagine the anger, humiliation, and sadness the real Janet felt back when it happened. Maddin was also fixated on the buildings he came to love as a child. He went into great details about how he was born in the locker room of a hockey rink. He divulged information about how he loved looking at the hockey players’ naked bodies, not simply in a sexual way but also relishing the fact that he was in the same room as the people he considered his heroes. Watching the film was like looking in a machine designed to sort through someone’s memories. Though kaleidoscopic as a whole, the pith of the matter was always personal and deep. Various techniques were used with confidence and reckless abandon. Some scenes were in color, others were animated, while some had a complete lack of narration. Whatever technique was used, it felt personal even though not everything made sense right away because it jumped from one topic to another. Maddin claimed he wanted to escape Winnipeg since it was essentially rotting from the inside. Strangely enough, by revealing to us what he disliked about his hometown, like the city officials’ decision to destroy certain buildings that he’d grown attached to, he showed us why he loved it; that no matter how far he was or how strongly he tried to forget, Winnipeg would always be a part of him. “My Winnipeg” was an intense variegation of memories packed with psychosexual undertones. The meaning behind the messages that Maddin wanted to send to the world may not always be apparent because of its heavy experimental style but it was, in the least, worth delving into. Its sheer bravado to push the envelope of alternative filmmaking makes it a diamond in the rough.
The Tree of Life (2011)
★★★★ / ★★★★
Mr. O’Brien (Brad Pitt) and Mrs. O’Brien (Jessica Chastain) received a phone call informing them that one of their three sons, Jack (Hunter McCracken), R.L. (Laramie Eppler), and Steve (Tye Sheridan), had died. We knew it wasn’t Jack because we came to meet him as an adult (Sean Penn), still struggling with the death of his brothers, the other passed away at the age of nineteen. The writer-director, Terrence Malick, spent the rest of the film painting us a picture of the boys’ childhood, torn between nature and grace which their father and mother embodied, respectively. To criticize this movie as having a weak plot is tantamount to saying that an abstract painting is bad because one does not approve of the artist’s use of color since it makes the painting look unrealistic. In a few instances, such as the case here, plot is negligible. Personally, it was about the images and how they were utilized to remind myself of my childhood. It was set in 1950s American suburbia; I was raised in the 1990s Philippine urban-suburban neighborhood. The two are separated by place and time but I saw myself in these kids. It reminded me of times when I ran around with my cousins playing kickball, egos bruised for every lost point; the joy of collecting caterpillars, grasshoppers, spiders, lizards, stray cats at a nearby ice plant, which children of the neighborhood likened to believe was abandoned so we could call it our own turf; the way mother would yell for me and brother, beckoning us to come in for dinner, chastising us when we were too grimy as we approached the table, and making us clean up a bit before experiencing the comfort of a warm home-cooked meal. It also reminded me of the things I didn’t have. Father was in America making a living for his family, so no one taught me how to put up my fist properly and fight. First fight at school gets bloody awful quick when you don’t know how to defend yourself. But sooner or later you learn to get tougher. You find ways as Jack did with his brother, not because he was bully or meaning to be unkind, but because he needed to find a sparring partner, someone who he believed was his equal. The most moving scene for me was when Jack, after shooting a rubber bullet at R.L.’s index finger, summoned the courage within himself to apologize to his brother without anyone telling him to do so. It was such a tender moment because apologizing and, more importantly, actually meaning it can be very difficult to do. I admired Malick’s use of contrast. He featured an extended sequence starting from The Big Bang up until the Cretaceous-Tertiary Extinction. In one of the scenes, a carnivorous dinosaur spotted a fatally wounded dinosaur resting on the rocks. The healthy one approached the dying carefully, making sure that there was no immediate threat in the vicinity. Just when I thought it was going to go for the kill, I saw a human aspect in something so beastly: the healthy one covered the wounded’s face with its foot, hesitated against its nature, and walked away. The scene was loyal to the film’s theme: nature versus grace. “The Tree of Life” is a torrent of epic memories, bound to move those in touch with their wonderful, tragic, magical childhood. It’s one of those movies I won’t forget because, in a way, I’ve lived it.