THE CORK FILM FESTIVAL (II)

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Watching this film was a little like working in an old hardware wholesaler. It was dank, seemed to emit a hum of fluorescent light across the cinema floor, and the Triskel Arts centre even smelt like weathered metal and grease. By bizarre coincidence, this film was also about working in an old harware wholesaler, where our hero hides himself in a box to see who's been nicking a few odd nails. Yes, that's it. The director was sitting behind me so I resisted the urge to do what Rock Hudson did during the first screening of 2001: A space Odyssey; that is, standing up and saying: "Could someone please tell me what the hell this is about?" You'd think from all this diatribe that I hated the film, but once I had adjusted to being ensconsed in the dreary film setting, it was engrossing and even endearing. Still, like masturbation with sandpaper, I'm not sure if the pleasure was worth the pain.

Frequently Asked Questions


Believe me, I had a few of those when this film was over. This is a Spanish film set in France, which means that there is not much keeling of womeeen and cheeeldren, but there is a man eating a croissant. A science fiction piece, it tells of a terrifying dystopia where women are our overlords. Just like a normal society except no-one can drive and PMS requisitions you a couple of personal days (joke!). It is also a society in which sensuality is not allowed, and you must give up your uterus to gain admission to the gestapo-like sisterhood of metacontrol. Not sure of the point they are making here except that it seems that to gain power femininity must be discarded, so power and control still seem to be a masculine aspect. Also, in a strange twist to the Nineteen-Eighty-Four formula, it is a man, Nano, who changes the female protagonist's view of the Doctine. So, an interesting film, but still prescribes to the still typically male-dominated arena of science fiction, which i think they were trying to distance themselves from.
Still, the scene where they destroy the Eiffel tower because of its phallic appearance is bloody hillarious, and will be of some solace to everyone who's had a run in with a rude parisian. There's another thing. No-one says "sacre bleu" or wears a beret. I'm sorry, but France to me is a stripey-vested old fella on a cobbled street corner chomping on a garlic. That doesn't make me ignorant, does it?

Zero Degrees of Seperation.

I saw the director Elle Flanders getting on a plane the next day. She wanted to know which way to her Ryanair flight, ignoring the Ryanair plane in front of her.
This film has stuck in my mind quite a bit, even though the synopsis didn't sound too appealling. "I wanna go see this maybe" says Donna, looking at the Film Festival programme, and I glanced at the blurb: "A unique journey through the complex lives of Israeli and Palestinian gays and lesbians in inter-ethnic relationships..." I glanced at her skeptically. "Come on," she said, her Aussie drawl stretching every syllable to its elastic zenith, "It's a bit a culchaaaaa"
"Culture, eh?"
"Na, na, na: culchaaaaaaaa"
The film, despite its promise of an insighful look at brown love in a warzone, was a treat: One of the Jewish protagonists, Ezra, challenges the border controls with an authority that outways theirs, making these encounters both engrossing and hillarious. His deadpan answer to the question "What is your desination" is "An orgy in the valley." The look of fear in the eyes of post-adolescent troops travels down the lens at the speed of light, the strain of the couples' differing political stances becomes a recurring theme throughout.
Oh, and we got a free badge. That swung it for me.