Vancouver International Film Festival – Page 2

Challenging films at VIFF

Soon after he discovered he was Jewish, Csánad Szegedi reached out to Rabbi Boruch Oberlander. Szegedi’s transformation from virulent antisemite to Orthodox Jew is the topic of the documentary Keep Quiet. (photo from Gábor Máté/AJH Films & Passion Pictures)

While this year’s Vancouver International Film Festival holds much that will be of interest to Jewish Independent readers, the list is short when it comes to specifically Israeli or Jewish-related films that will appeal.

Perhaps surprisingly, the Israeli films are harsh critiques of Israel. Beyond the Mountains and Hills (Israel/Germany) is about a dysfunctional family (a metaphor for the country), Junction 48 (Israel/Germany/United States) is about an Arab-Israeli rapper who faces racism, among other Israeli-inflicted ills; Between Fences (Israel/France) is a documentary about Israel’s internment of African refugees at the Holot Detention Centre and Vita Activa: The Spirit of Hannah Arendt (Israel/Canada) is about Hannah Arendt, who, among other things, was critical of Jewish leadership during the Holocaust and did not approve of the state of Israel as it was founded.

Among the other film offerings is Keep Quiet (United Kingdom/Hungary), a documentary about Csánad Szegedi, the staunch antisemite who helped found Hungary’s far-right party Jobbik and its Hungarian Guard, which has since been banned. As a member of the European Parliament, he continued to foment hatred until a fellow nationalist and racist outed him as being Jewish – his grandmother had not been the adopted daughter of the Klein family, as she told him, but their daughter. The documentary includes interviews Szegedi did with his grandmother (about her imprisonment in Auschwitz, and other matters) and a conversation with his mother, who also found out later in life that she was Jewish. He asks both women about his increasing embrace of antisemitism over the years, why didn’t you stop me? Their responses are thought-provoking and sad.

Keep Quiet does not accept Szegedi’s transformation unquestioningly and gives speaking time to the doubters, as well as the cautious believers, such as Rabbi Boruch Oberlander, head of the Orthodox Rabbinical Council in Budapest. Oberlander has supported and taught Szegedi since the former antisemite contacted the rabbi for help. The event that ends the film is Szegedi’s attempt in 2013 to speak in Montreal about his Jewish journey – he wasn’t allowed to stay in the country. Before being put on the next plane home, however, Szegedi recorded a lecture, which was played at the event, with Oberlander fielding the hostility it wrought in some attendees. In Oberlander’s view, we must love every Jew, no matter how wicked. Of his choice to help Szegedi, he says, “I pray that I shouldn’t be disappointed.” Even Szegedi is unsure as to whether he would ever turn his back on Judaism – maybe, he admits, but not likely.

The way in which the filmmakers present Szegedi’s story is informative and balanced, and viewers get a sense of the man and his deeds, as well as about Hungary and how a political party as racist as Jobbik can find success there.

photo - Hannah Arendt — Hannah Arendt *(photo from the Hannah Arendt private archive via Zeitgeist Films)*

Vita Activa also does a good job of including both fans and critics of Arendt’s work, but mainly uses Arendt’s own words to explain her thoughts and analyses. The film uses as its foundation the Adolph Eichmann trial, about which Arendt wrote Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963), describing Eichmann as “a typical functionary,” and thus an example of the “banality of evil.” (Viewers should be warned that there are many disturbing Holocaust-related images in this film.)

“Eichmann was quite intelligent but he had that dumbness,” she tells an interviewer in one of the clips included in the documentary. “It was that dumbness that was so infuriating, and that was what I meant by ‘banality.’ It has no depth; it isn’t demonic. It’s simply the unwillingness to ever imagine what others are going through.”

Another of Arendt’s theories – about refugees – remains relevant. With no rights, refugees are considered “superfluous” by a regime, she argued, and denationalization and xenophobia become a powerful weapon of totalitarian politics.

In Keep Quiet, a political journalist describes Hungary as a “part of the world where history has been manipulated” and the effects that such manipulation has upon generations. Arendt broadens that view beyond Europe, saying, “It has been characteristic of our history of consciousness that its worst crimes have been committed in the name of some kind of necessity or in the name of a mythological future.”

In addition to her early work, Vita Activa touches upon Arendt’s personal life, which offers some further understanding of the philosopher, who was seen by many to lack empathy. In one interview, she talks about how Auschwitz shouldn’t have happened, how she could handle everything else but that. Yet, she criticized the Jewish leadership who cooperated with the Nazis – the councils and kapos – and hypothesized that, if there had been no such leadership, there would have been chaos and suffering and deaths but not six million. One professor interviewed for the documentary calls Arendt’s comments “irresponsible,” another says they showed her complete ignorance of history, yet another says she regretted her remarks later in life.

The film also notes Arendt’s change from supporting Zionism to condemning elements within it. Among other things, she said, “A home that my neighbor does not recognize is not a home. A Jewish national home that is not recognized by and not respected by its neighboring people is not a home, but an illusion, until it becomes a battlefield.” And she pointed to tendencies within Zionism that she considered “plain racist chauvinism” that do “not differ from other master race theories.”

The documentary also covers Arendt’s 1951 Book of Thoughts, in which she contemplates the nature of forgiveness, revenge, reconciliation. For her, the latter doesn’t forgive or accept, but judges. When you take on the burden of what someone else did, she believed, you don’t accept the blame or absolve the other of the blame, but take upon yourself the injustice that occurred in reality. “It’s a decision,” she said, “to be a partner in the accountability, not at all a partner to the guilt.”

photo - A “theatre of the oppressed” workshop at the Holot Detention Centre in Israel — A “theatre of the oppressed” workshop at the Holot Detention Centre in Israel. *(photo from Vancouver International Film Festival)*

Reconciliation and forgiveness don’t enter the picture in either the documentary Between Fences or the fictional (but based on a real person) Junction 48. They each highlight important, even vital, issues in Israeli society, but do so in such a condemnatory, predictable way that anyone but the choir won’t be able to sit through these films.

Without much context, Between Fences looks at the poor situation in which asylum seekers from Eritrea and Sudan find themselves when they reach the safety of Israel. In many countries, these asylum seekers face problems, but viewers wouldn’t know that from this documentary, nor would they begin to understand the atrocities being committed in their homelands. However, they will learn how Israel doesn’t recognize their refugee status and makes every effort to send them back, how racist Israelis are towards these newcomers and a host of other problems with Israel and its people. Not one government official or Israeli is interviewed, although some Israelis participate in the “theatre of the oppressed” workshops in Holot on which the film focuses. In addition to leaving many questions unanswered, the film also begins and ends confusingly and is slow-paced.

Bias also makes Junction 48 almost unwatchable for anyone who would like to see the Israeli-Palestinian conflict resolved, so that both peoples’ rights and safety are ensured. From the second sentence of the opening, the perspective is made clear: “The Israeli city of Lod is the Palestinian city of Lyd, which once sat on the main railway junction. In 1948, tens of thousands of Palestinians were exiled from Lyd in order to resettle the town with Jews….”

photo - Samar Qupty and Tamer Nafar in Junction 48 — Samar Qupty and Tamer Nafar in Junction 48. *(photo from VIFF)*

We then meet Kareem, an aspiring young rapper, whose parents are worried about his involvement with drug dealers and his future in general. His friends not only deal and take drugs, but visit prostitutes and dabble in other criminal activity. Nonetheless, every Israeli they encounter is the real bad guy, from the police to other rappers to the government, which is knocking down one of their homes to build a coexistence museum. Oh, the irony.

The only entertaining and thought-provoking aspect of this film is the music by lead actor and film co-writer Tamer Nafar, which is available online.

In the end, the Jewish Independent chose to sponsor what a VIFF programmer called a “classic Jewish comedy,” though, having seen a screener of the film, the Jewish aspect is hard to discern. While much lighter (and non-political) fare than the other offerings, it has much to say – or show, really, as the dialogue is minimal – about social awkwardness and a lack of direction in life. The protagonist, Mike, works at a pizza place in New Jersey and has the energy level of a slug and the magnetism of zinc. Yet, somehow, he has friends, albeit not great ones.

Short Stay is one of those films that moves apace with its main character, so slowly and in all different directions, as Mike both physically wanders the streets and mentally wanders to destinations unknown. Viewers don’t gain insight into what motivates Mike, who seems unperturbed by his lack of career, social skills, direction and future, but they root for him, empathize with what must be his loneliness.

photo - The social awkwardness of the protagonist of Short Stay, Mike, is obvious in his exchanges with others — The social awkwardness of the protagonist of Short Stay, Mike, is obvious in his exchanges with others. *(photo from VIFF)*

Short Stay director Ted Fendt best describes the acting of the nonprofessional cast, many (all?) of whom are his friends. “The film contains a range of performance styles from the fairly natural (Marta and Meg), to Mark and Dan’s B movie ‘villains,’ who might have stepped out of an Ulmer or Moullet film, to the quasi-Bressonian, unaffected manner Mike delivers his lines.” And therein is a Jewish link, Edgar G. Ulmer.

Another Jewish filmmaker – Vancouver’s Ben Ratner – will be premièring his short film, Ganjy, at this year’s festival. About a former boxer suffering from dementia pugilistica, who is in desperate need of help when three friends visit, Ganjy was inspired in part by Muhammad Ali. Its creators are looking to fundraise enough to take the film to other festivals, as well as contribute to the Muhammad Ali Parkinson Centre. For more information, visit indiegogo.com/projects/ganjy-film#.

For more information about and the full schedule of films playing at VIFF, visit viff.org.

Note: This article has been edited so that it is clear Hannah Arendt was speaking of tendencies within Zionism that she considered “plain racist chauvinism” that do “not differ from other master race theories,” and not condemning Zionism as a whole.

Men take centre screen

In Love, Theft and Other Entanglements, Sami Metwasi plays Mousa, a likable but unlucky car thief. (photo from Vancouver International Film Festival)

Men in turmoil. If there were a common theme between the films the Jewish Independent reviewed in anticipation of this year’s Vancouver International Film Festival, which opens Sept. 24, it would be that. It also seems to apply to the other few movies in the festival with Jewish- and/or Israel-related content.

Of the films reviewed, Love, Theft and Other Entanglements (Palestine Territories) was the most engaging, though it was slow in its pacing. This was likely done purposefully to reflect aspects of the main character and his milieu, but the movie – which is described by director Muayad Alayan as “a drama, a thriller and a fairytale” – would have been more intense if several lengthy shots had been trimmed even by a few seconds. We don’t have to see a car drive from Point A to Point B to know that it went from A to B, for example.

That being said, Love’s Mousa, is a likable “hero,” and this makes viewers want to stick with him to the end. The choice to film the movie in black and white was made, says Alayan on the film’s website, to minimize “the visual noise that detracts from the story” and reduce “the temptation to examine the setting of the film against the hyper-realistic images of Palestine common in TV reports and documentary films. I wanted the place to be a context that serves the story and not a point of interest in and of itself.” In this, he succeeds. While the film includes evident commentary about Israeli and Palestinian societies, as well as the conflict between them, it is Mousa – representing anyone who has made some bad choices in life – who is at the centre of the narrative; and the desert landscape accents his scarce hope.

Walking out on a job that his father arranged for him with some effort, Mousa steals a car – not his first. Unfortunately, this one has valuable cargo in the trunk and Mousa becomes a man of interest – and use – to both Israeli intelligence and Palestinian militia. Adding to his self-made burden is an affair with a married woman.

Mousa desperately wants to flee from it all. When he tells his father he is leaving, his father responds, “A man who doesn’t solve his problems in his own country, won’t be any different in another country. You’re just running away.” By the end of the film, Mousa is no longer running.

***

Hockney is a flattering documentary by Randall Wright (United Kingdom/United States) of British artist David Hockney. It portrays a creative, innovative man who lived his life publicly, not only explicitly wrestling with his homosexuality in his artwork, but filming many moments of his life, some of which are very intimate and, one would think, private.

By turns flippant (deciding to become a blond after seeing a Clairol commercial that claimed blonds have more fun), sad (mourning with every aspect of his being the end of his relationship with Peter Schlesinger) and serious (continually pushing artistic boundaries and learning new techniques), Hockney is a fascinating person.

Wright’s documentary features interviews with Hockney, 77, as well as Hockney’s family and friends, fellow artists, subjects of his paintings and others. For the film, Hockey – who still works in the studio every day – provided Wright with access to his photographs and “home” movies. Hockney was a documenter not just of what he saw around him in people and nature, but of himself. “I always wanted to see more,” he says about why he always wanted to sit on the top level of the bus on the way home from the pictures – he describes himself as almost being raised with Hollywood, though he was born and raised in Bradford, England. After several stints in Los Angeles, he moved there in 1978.

The documentary serves as an interesting and visually stimulating, if uncritical, introduction to Hockney and his work. The VIFF screenings mark its Canadian première.

photo - Quentin Dolmaire et Lou Roy-Lecollinet in My Golden Days. Dolmaire is scheduled to attend the film’s première at the Vancouver International Film Festival — Quentin Dolmaire et Lou Roy-Lecollinet in My Golden Days. Dolmaire is scheduled to attend the film’s première at the Vancouver International Film Festival. *(photo from VIFF)*

Another national première is My Golden Days, directed by Arnaud Desplechin (France). Actor Quentin Dolmaire, who plays the young adult Paul Dédalus, is scheduled to attend the screening.

Called Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse in its original French, the film begins with the adult Paul in bed with a lover, saying goodbye, set to return to France to take a position with the foreign ministry. His first souvenir (memory) is of his childhood: to understate matters, he doesn’t get along with his mother, who is ill, and, after she dies, his father never recovers and fades into the background of his children’s lives.

Paul’s second memory – and the most interesting part of the entire film – is triggered when he is stopped at customs. Apparently, another Paul Dédalus exists in Australia, with Paul’s same birth date, etc. How can that be?

It goes back to the 1980s and a high school trip to Minsk. Not Jewish himself, Paul helps his friend Marc Zylberberg smuggle documents and money to refuseniks. He is asked, not pressured, to “lose” his passport when he meets with them, which he does.

The strength of character Paul displays at 16 in Russia escapes him upon his return. The third and final memory of his youth takes up more than half of the two-hour film. Despite including some violence, lots of emotional chaos and a few sex scenes, the romance between Paul and Esther is, not to mince words, boring. Though well-acted, the characters are not compelling or sympathetic, and it is hard to care what happens to them and their relationship.

***

The Jewish Independent is sponsoring the Canadian première of Tikkun, directed by Avishai Sivan (Israel). Among other awards, it won top honors at the Jerusalem Film Festival.

When Haim-Aaron, an ultra-Orthodox scholar, collapses and is resuscitated by his father after being declared dead by paramedics, he completely changes personality. While he struggles with that and his new lack of faith, his father is fearful that God is angry for having His will (that Haim-Aaron die) denied.

Among the other films of Jewish interest is Son of Saul, directed by László Nemes (Hungary), which takes place in Auschwitz, where Saul is forced to help the Nazis kill his fellow Jews. In doing so, he sees the corpse of a boy he believes to be his son. He decides to save the body, intent on giving the boy a proper burial.

And there is A Nazi Legacy: What Our Fathers Did, a documentary by David Evans (United Kingdom). Another Canadian première at VIFF, the film follows Niklas Frank and Horst von Wächter, both the sons of Nazis responsible for thousands of deaths, on a trip to Poland and Ukraine. The men have completely different opinions about their fathers’ actions during the war, and “human rights lawyer Philippe Sands investigates the complicated connection between the two men, and even delves into the story of his own grandfather who escaped the same town where their fathers carried out mass killings.”

VIFF runs from Sept. 24-Oct. 9. The full program can be found at viff.org.

A window on to Indonesia

Left to right, Boni Putera, Titi Juwariyah and Bambang “Ho” Mulyono are the charismatic musicians at the heart of Daniel Ziv’s (inset) documentary Jalanan. (photo from jalananmovie.com)

Daniel Ziv’s first feature-length documentary, the multiple-award-winning Jalanan (Streetside), tells the uplifting, engaging story of three musicians who are part of a bustling street scene in Jakarta: Boni Putera, Bambang “Ho” Mulyono and Titi Juwariyah. Instead of playing on street corners, these captivating and charismatic buskers board city buses, transforming ordinary commutes into musical, spiritual and political journeys through Indonesia’s capital, a mega city of 10 million.

Ziv, who was raised in Vancouver, spoke with the Independent by email after the Vancouver International Film Festival, where Jalanan had its North American première. An author and political commentator, Ziv has lived in Indonesia since 1999.

JI: How did you get started with filmmaking and how did you come to this project in particular?

DZ: Jalanan is my first film, and I never intended to be a filmmaker. Rather, the amazing story of these Jakarta street buskers, and how I felt that story, could illuminate so much about Indonesia as a society, and even globalization, sort of appeared in front of me and kept lingering there until I felt it needed to be told. Since the tale naturally contained so much music and energy and movement across this gritty urban space, I felt that film would be the right medium. So, I spent awhile getting to know the tools, and then learned through trial and error. Although filmmaking skills would have come in handy, I still believe that having a good story and good access are what really make a strong documentary. No degree of technical wizardry can replace those things.

JI: How were Boni, Ho and Titi chosen as the protagonists? Were there security concerns?

DZ: I knew that for the film to work, to really grab the attention and win the hearts of viewers, I needed strong lead characters – people with charm and charisma and agency, people with something to say about life. When I met Boni, Ho and Titi, I knew in each case that they would stand out as colorful individuals that viewers would be happy to spend two hours with in a theatre, or a few days with on the street, or even five years, as I did. They weren’t the archetypical victims that poor people are so often made out to be in social documentaries. They took control of their own fate, and they were fun to be with. And, of course, I looked for buskers with some musical talent and, more importantly, who composed their own songs and lyrics, which in turn reflected their condition. This added a whole other narrative device to the film that wouldn’t be there if it was just people talking into a camera.

In terms of safety, there actually weren’t really any issues. People assume since Jakarta is an enormous, chaotic, unruly, corrupt city, that it’s also somehow dangerous, but it’s not…. I spent five years shooting the film, totally exposed in some of the poorest parts of the city, carrying perhaps $10,000 worth of camera and sound equipment on me, yet I was never once harassed or mugged or even pickpocketed. I think if you’re at ease with your environment, the environment accepts you, but, of course, it helped that I’m fluent in Indonesian and that people knew I was with Boni, Ho and Titi. It provided me with a kind of street cred and belonging. I wasn’t some tourist leering in.

JI: What attracted you to Indonesia?

DZ: I didn’t plan any of this. I discovered Indonesia as a young backpacker in the early ’90s and was captivated by the country and its people, and then just kept going back. I did an MA in Southeast Asian studies and began a PhD in Indonesian politics, which is what moved me to Jakarta in 1999 for a year of field research. Then, I just got drawn into the dynamic changes that were happening to Indonesia at that time and into some irresistible job opportunities ranging from journalism and humanitarian aid work to book writing and filmmaking. And I got to work with the most amazing people, many of whom were the next generation of Indonesian artists and politicians and media personalities and social entrepreneurs. All of this has added up to a pretty fascinating career and life, but I also feel it’s been the result of deliberate choices: I didn’t opt for a safe, conventional path; I didn’t care about pedigree or official titles or big salaries. I only chose jobs that were truly meaningful.

JI: What were the challenges (rewards) of working on this project?

DZ: I guess the thing that is both the most challenging and rewarding is the intense experience of dreaming something up out of nothing, having the chutzpah and persistence to think you can create something that comes from inside you that wasn’t there before, and that it can actually find an audience and resonate with others…. [W]hen you make a film like this, that contains so much of your own experience and sensibility and sweat and tears, it’s really scary to wrap it up and then just watch the lights dim in a packed theatre and wonder if it will even work, if your vision and story will connect with people from a totally different culture and experience. And, when it does, it’s truly exhilarating.

JI: The response to the film has been positive. What’s that been like?

photo - Jalanan is Daniel Ziv's first film — *Jalanan* is Daniel Ziv’s first film. *(photo from jalananmovie.com)*

DZ: Of course, it’s immensely gratifying. My greatest fear after all the hard years of work was that it would just go nowhere … but the opposite has happened, and the film’s political and social impact in Indonesia in particular has been incredible. Jalanan captured the imagination of the public and the media, and contributed to concrete policy changes at the highest level of government, which is something none of us dreamed of.

Boni, Ho and Titi are now mini-celebrities in Indonesia, so, of course, it’s been amazing for three marginalized individuals to be publicly acknowledged in that way and to become role models within their community.

JI: Boni, Titi and Ho have multiple challenges, but they seem to be living satisfying lives. Are there lessons for those of us who, by many accounts, have more privilege or opportunity?

DZ: Certainly. But I’ve always been averse to simplistic, clichéd responses like “If poor people aren’t complaining, who are we to be discontent with our lives?” I mean, of course it’s important to recognize that we have privileged lives, but I think anyone’s pain or challenges are independently valid and very real. Having money and comfort doesn’t immunize us from pain, and being dirt poor doesn’t deny them immense joy. This is why it was so important for me to not let Jalanan become an exercise in finger waving or audience guilt. In fact, what I think many viewers respond to most is not how different they are than Boni, Ho and Titi, but how much of ourselves we see in them, and them in us. I think poverty needs to be de-fetishized and dealt with at face value, and poor people need to be seen as our friends and equals, rather than as objects to be analyzed or pitied. I know they prefer it that way.

JI: Are you still in touch with Boni, Ho and Titi?

DZ: We are close friends, and in almost daily contact. They are doing well, and enjoying a whole slew of new opportunities opening up to them as a result of the exposure from the film, but … they are still members of Jakarta’s marginalized poor, they are vulnerable and face multiple challenges. This is why I’ve started up a fundraising campaign that aims to buy each of them a small, humble house in a simple Jakarta neighborhood, something that will put a roof over their heads for life (details at jalananmovie.com/housingfund).

JI: I read an article in which you said that the buskers “were really just the lens through which we could manage a far bigger, more complex view of the country today.” Can you expand on that? Why do you think it took an expat to make an Indonesian film that had such global appeal?

DZ: That’s a great question. My interest from the start was in trying to understand, and hopefully shedding light on, Indonesia. I don’t think there’d have been anything inherently fascinating or important in a film that merely focuses on street busking, so my agenda was to probe deeper and treat my protagonists as a kind of microcosm for the country at this really fascinating juncture in time.

I’m not convinced an Indonesian couldn’t have made this film and, strangely, quite a few reviewers in Jakarta remarked that Jalanan feels “like a totally Indonesian film” rather than a documentary shot by a foreigner…. But this is probably because I created the space for Boni, Ho and Titi to tell their own very Indonesian story in their own voices and perspectives, and left space for my very talented Indonesian editor, Ernest Hariyanto, to lend his local sensibility to the cut. My goal was to open a window on to Indonesia, not to interpret it in my own image.

JI: Were you raised in a Jewish environment and, if yes, did it affect your choice of profession or other aspects of your life/filmmaking?

DZ: It’s probably fair to say my choice of profession was despite my Vancouver Jewish environment, not because of it. I grew up surrounded by a community of lawyers and doctors and academics and business folks, and most of my childhood friends didn’t stray far from that. I was lucky to have parents who secretly admired the creative and adventurous tendencies my sisters and I harbored.

One of my sisters became a ceramic artist and urban heritage expert; my other sister is a professional chef and musician. Our parents never pushed us toward establishment careers. They taught us a love for travel and culture, and that it was more important to lead an interesting life than a safe one. They probably got more than they bargained for in my case, and lament the fact that I live halfway across the world, but I doubt they’d be any happier if I were a senior partner at a downtown law firm. And, I dare say, they seemed pretty proud when the lights came on at the end of our screening … at VIFF.

Basya Laye is a Vancouver freelance writer and former editor of the Jewish Independent.

Gilbert’s TIFF hat trick

Bron Studios has won multiple awards for its work. (bronstudios.com screenshot)

Aaron L. Gilbert had every reason to be smiling broadly at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. The Burnaby-based producer had three film screenings: Welcome to Me (starring Kristen Wiig and Tim Robbins); Kill Me Three Times (starring Simon Pegg) and Miss Julie (starring Jessica Chastain and Colin Farrell).

“This is one of the top three most prestigious film festivals in the world, rivaling Cannes in terms of its importance to our industry,” Gilbert said. “Having three there was pretty exciting. It’s tough to get in, it’s an honor to be there and it’s a wonderful launching ground to create awareness of your film.”

As a result of the TIFF screenings, all three of Gilbert’s films are closing deals with American distributors. Welcome to Me (which also screened at the Vancouver International Film Festival to rave reviews) will be released in March, and the other two are also likely to be on the big screen in the United States and Canada over the next year, he said.

photo - Aaron L. Gilbert (photo from bronstudios.com) — Aaron L. Gilbert *(photo from bronstudios.com)*

The 42-year-old from London, Ont., was studying at McMaster University when he had an opportunity to work in the music industry in 1993. That changed his life track, and Gilbert found himself moving between Vancouver and Los Angeles doing music management, managing artists and handling the international licensing of music. He credits his passion for the arts to his parents, Gloria and Joseph Gilbert.

“We’ve always been a family where the arts was important,” he reflected. “My parents introduced me and my siblings to theatre and music and gave us an opportunity to see and do a lot of things. Today, my brother and sister are also active in theatre and arts, and our love for it comes from the introduction our parents gave us as kids.”

Today, Gilbert is managing director of Bron Studios in Burnaby, which he co-founded with his wife Brenda in 2010, and where he wears many different hats. “Financially, I’m involved in putting the different pieces together for our films and with production partners, but I’m also very involved in all creative elements, such as finding a script, working on it and developing it, and selecting editors, directors of photography, talent agents, managers, casting directors and marketing people,” he explained.

Bron Studios specializes in live action and animation, and the tremendous talent pool in Vancouver’s animation industry makes this an excellent place to be, he said. “There’s a very mature film and TV industry here, and tremendous incentives for tax and government support for the animation industry in Vancouver, but it’s also about quality of life. I love the proximity to L.A. that Vancouver gives me and I often fly into L.A. for the day. This is as close to L.A. as I want to be!”

In the last few years, Gilbert has worked with Olivia Wilde, Will Ferrell, Helen Hunt, Jennifer Hudson and Julianne Moore, among many other Hollywood actors. “I’ve met such incredible, talented people, and to watch them perform just blows my mind,” he admitted. “I’m often astonished by how down-to-earth the actors are and, in many cases, we become friends. Will Ferrell, for example, is an incredible guy in addition to being crazy talented.”

Gilbert is actively working on several projects, one of them based on an original play about the inner workings of a Jewish family. Being Jewish certainly influences his decisions and the kinds of material he’s attracted to, he said. “My parents have always been so active in the Jewish community and that’s part of who I am and how I live my life, overall. I’m not in synagogue every Saturday, but I’m Jewish and culturally aware, and I know my roots. I’m definitely attracted to real-life stories about how Jews live in our existing world.”

Gilbert is also particularly attracted to films containing serious thematic material. “A lot of films I’ve done cover difficult subject matters in ways that can be accepted by wider audiences,” he explained. Welcome to Me, for example, is about a woman who is bipolar, while Decoding Annie Parker (2013) deals with breast cancer and heredity. “We want to approach difficult subject matters in a way that can be entertaining, but never preachy, to our audiences.”

Recently, he partnered with Niv Fichman of Rhombus Media on the psychological drama Into the Forest, from Canadian writer/director Patricia Rozema. And, in October, he was in Shreveport, La., working on I Saw the Light, a Hank Williams biopic, in partnership with Brett Ratner.

Lauren Kramer, an award-winning writer and editor, lives in Richmond, B.C. To read her work online, visit laurenkramer.net. This article was originally published on cjnews.com.

Small sample of VIFF

Nadav Lapid’s The Kindergarten Teacher raises some interesting ideas, but is lacklustre overall. (photo from VIFF)

The rollercoaster ride of emotions continued this week, as the Jewish Independent reviewed another set of films that will be featured at the Vancouver International Film Festival, which runs Sept. 25-Oct. 10.

Last week, the JI was inspired by the documentary Ilya and Emilia Kabakov: Enter Here (which the paper has sponsored), we enjoyed meeting the plucky street musicians on which Jalanan focused, and we were once again horrified by the banality of evil in learning more about Heinrich Himmler in the ironically-named The Decent One. This week, we went from mild boredom with Nadav Lapid’s The Kindergarten Teacher (Israel/France) to engaged interest with Nancy Kates’ documentary Regarding Susan Sontag (United States) to heart-racing dread with Alexandre Arcady’s 24 Days (France).

The Kindergarten Teacher raises some potentially thought-provoking questions about the origins of creativity, ie. what allows some people to craft magnificent works (in this case, poems) and others to never achieve anything above mediocrity. It does so through the relationship of kindergarten teacher and aspiring poet Nira and one of her students, five-year-old Yoav, who we’re supposed to believe is a poetic genius.

Understanding that this is a work of fiction, the bounds of believability are strained nonetheless on more than one occasion: for example, Yoav’s father fires Yoav’s nanny without pausing upon hearing Nira’s unsubstantiated accusations; and Yoav’s poems, while good for a child are hardly earth-shattering. What’s more frustrating is what passes for internal conflict – Nira staring, staring, staring – or genius at work – Yoav pacing, pacing, pacing. Ultimately, there’s nothing grossly wrong with the storytelling or filmmaking here, the movie just needed a better editing job and more focus. At an hour-and-a-half, The Kindergarten Teacher might have been stimulating; at almost two hours, it’s sleep-inducing.

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Nancy Kates’ Regarding Susan Sontag is an entertaining personality profile. (photo from VIFF)

Kates does a far better job at rousing curiosity, raising questions about the nature of art, culture, sexuality, happiness and other such topics. For those who already know a lot about Susan Sontag, Kates’ documentary likely won’t be that illuminating about her as a person or writer/critic/filmmaker, as the biographical and professional moments highlighted seem pretty basic. But, for those who know little of Sontag, this is a great introduction, which captures not only Sontag’s strengths but also her vulnerabilities. For both types of viewers, the excitement of intellectual, philosophical and personal discovery (and re-discovery) that Sontag felt and expressed is catching.

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photo - A scene from 24 Days: Ilan Halimi’s girlfriend and parents speak with the lead investigator on the case — A scene from *24 Days*: Ilan Halimi’s girlfriend and parents speak with the lead investigator on the case. *(photo from VIFF)*

We know how 24 Days will end. It’s based on the true, tragic, terrifying story of the kidnapping and subsequent murder of Ilan Halimi. Yet, Arcady manages to make us hope – throughout the entire film – that, somehow, Halimi will survive.

Overwhelming at times, between his family’s grief, the police’s desperation and his captors’ anger, 24 Days apparently sticks quite closely to the events as they happened in Paris in early 2006, as recorded by Halimi’s mother, Ruth, in the book 24 jours, la vérité sur la mort d’Ilan Halimi, which she co-wrote with Emilie Frèche.

Targeted for kidnapping because he was Jewish – the logic being all Jews have money and, therefore, could afford to pay a large ransom – Halimi was tortured, starved and, literally, left for dead when the negotiations for the ransom failed. His family was traumatized by ever-changing demands, graphic photos of their beaten son, expletive-filled threatening phone calls (more than 600 in 20 days) and false hope. The police are portrayed as genuinely trying to find and free Halimi, but as sadly ineffective – and completely insensitive to the antisemitic motivations of the criminals.

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Other films with Jewish content or creative talent include Zero Motivation (Israel), a black comedy by Israeli writer/director Talya Lavie about everyday life for a unit of young, female Israeli soldiers; and Welcome to Me (United States), a “dramedy” directed by Shira Piven, about a lottery winner (played by Kristen Wiig) who has borderline personality disorder and makes some questionable decisions about what to do with her windfall. For the full festival lineup, visit viff.org.

VIFF screens humanity’s best/worst

Ilya Kabakov is the subject of Amei Wallach’s lya and Emilia Kabakov: Enter Here. (photo from VIFF)

This year’s Vancouver International Film Festival (Sept. 25-Oct. 10) will take viewers on a rollercoaster ride, if the films reviewed by the Independent this week are any indication. We went from soaring heights of imagination and freedom with Ilya and Emilia Kabakov: Enter Here to the music-filled yet poverty-ridden streets of Jakarta in Jalanan to the horrifyingly shallow depths where evil is normal in The Decent One.

“What interests me is where is the border between reality and the dream,” says artist Ilya Kabakov in Enter Here. With this film that the Jewish Independent has sponsored at VIFF, Amei Wallach follows Ilya and his wife and partner Emilia Kabakov in the months leading to a massive retrospective in Moscow in 2008. She captures the couple’s personalities: Ilya, with his mind anywhere but on earth, still traumatized by his life – and that of his mother, who led a very difficult existence – in the Soviet Union, which he escaped in 1987, and Emilia, the organizer, fearless. The exhibit marked his first return to Russia, and there is trepidation about how it will be received, and how he will handle his memories.

Kabakov’s paintings and installations are unbelievable. They inspire contemplation and awe at their scope and creativity. Most of the ones highlighted in the documentary critique what Russia would have been – and seemingly has become again – to live in: the surveillance, distrust, harshness, bureaucracy. His works are influenced by various events and people, including his mother who, at his behest, wrote a diary when she was in her 80s.

In his New York studio, Kabakov reflects on three types of losers: mankind in principle, his feelings about himself despite his self-acknowledged success, and his reaction to Russia. He describes Russia as “permanent rainy,” and speaks of life there as “two-faced,” the public front and the personal. As a non-state-sponsored artist, he created much work, but only exhibited twice in his home country. For Kabakov, for whom the museum is akin to the church, “The last haven of our history and our spirit,” this alone would have been reason to flee. For the many around the world who have glimpsed his great mind through his work, we’re very lucky he did.

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photo - Of the 12 million people living in Indonesia’s capital city, some 7,000 earn their living as buskers, according to the film, and Jalanan follows the lives of three of them – Boni, Ho and Tuti – over a five-year period. — Of the 12 million people living in Indonesia’s capital city, some 7,000 earn their living as buskers, according to the film, and Jalanan follows the lives of three of them – Boni, Ho and Tuti – over a five-year period. *(photo from VIFF)*

Director Daniel Ziv obviously fell in love with the street musicians he profiles in Jalanan. Their aspirations, energy, passion, kindness, and resilience – he communicates all of it, such that you almost don’t notice it’s a documentary about poverty, development, corruption, and the treatment of women, the place of art in society, and other such weighty subject matter.

Of the 12 million people living in Indonesia’s capital city, some 7,000 earn their living as buskers, according to the film, and Jalanan follows the lives of three of them – Boni, Ho and Tuti – over a five-year period. In the face of hardship, the troubadours remain optimistic and driven to create and share their music. Nothing gets them down: Boni and his family are evicted from their 10-year “home” under a bridge, Ho gets jailed for just being on the streets and Tuti is unable to live with any of her three children.

As writes Ziv in a director’s statement, “This isn’t the type of documentary that feeds off tragedy … this is not about thousands of lives being threatened … this isn’t even about the poorest of the poor. Rather, Jalanan traces the lives of a forgotten, marginalized community that slips through society’s cracks. The dilemmas and conflicts here represent a huge segment of urban population in the developing world…. This film is meant to give them a voice, to raise awareness for their conditions and struggle.”

Ziv takes the awareness beyond the film, with a campaign to raise money to buy homes for Boni, Ho and Tuti: fundrazr.com/campaigns/dgEM6.

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photo - Vanessa Lapa’s The Decent One is based on personal letters, documents and photographs that were found in the Himmlers’ home by U.S. soldiers in 1945 — Vanessa Lapa’s The Decent One is based on personal letters, documents and photographs that were found in the Himmlers’ home by U.S. soldiers in 1945. (photo from VIFF)

And then, there is a person like Heinrich Himmler, who could write home to his family with love and affection while on a trip visiting concentration camps. Vanessa Lapa’s The Decent One is based on personal letters, documents and photographs that were found in the Himmlers’ home by U.S. soldiers in 1945, but which weren’t handed over to the military authorities. They became the property of Lapa’s father somehow, and she has used them to make this documentary.

The Decent One is very stylized. Voice actors read the letters, diary entries and documents from Himmler, his wife, daughter, mistress and others, archival footage has sound effects and/or music added, and benign-sounding excerpts from the writings are juxtaposed against brutal images. Viewers follow Himmler from a young age to his rise in the Nazi party and through much of the war. The cumulative effect is powerful. The most upsetting and scary conclusion is that understanding evil is nigh impossible.