From Oct. 17 to 27, cinephiles across Philadelphia and its greater region were able to convene for the 33rd Philadelphia Film Festival hosted by the Philadelphia Film Society. More than 100 films spanning a variety of genres and featuring film industry professionals of diverse backgrounds were shown at the Philadelphia Film Society, Film Society Bourse, and Film Society East. Here are five reviews from our writers that highlight just some of the films screened in the 11 day period.
All We Imagine As Light
Director Payal Kapadia’s intimate narrative debut follows the abundant inner lives of nurse Prabha (Kani Kusruti) and nurse Anu (Divya Prabha). The film is soundtracked by the urban soundscape of Mumbai, the piano pieces of Ethiopian composer Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou, and a constant, unforgiving rainfall.
In the chaos of a busy (and at times impersonal) metropolis, Prabha and Anu navigate their friendship and love lives. Anu hides her budding relationship with a Muslim man, while Prabha struggles with her distant marriage to her husband in Germany. In a poignant moment, their coworker, nurse Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam), reminds us, “When people go overseas, they lose their minds and their memory.”
Kapadia weaves together generous, honest scenes—the nurses giving their cat an ultrasound, Prabha embracing a rice cooker from Germany, Anu removing her bindi to visit the Muslim side of town—with a kind of dialogue that reads like poetry.
All We Imagine As Light invites us to consider the interplay of light and dark, of class and caste, of city and countryside. In the film’s first half, we get moody, dimly-lit city scenes that come after Prabha and Anu’s long shifts at the hospital. In the second half, the nurses accompany nurse Parvaty to the seaside, where light spills from the three female leads, just as it does from the Indian Ocean’s open horizon.
A Traveler’s Needs
The opening shot of director Hong Sang-soo’s 2024 film A Traveler’s Needs is of two women sitting at a table, engaged in what we later learn is an unconventional language session. Iris (Isabelle Huppert), a French woman, is teaching French to Isong (Kim Seungyun), although curiously, their conversations are conducted primarily in English. Iris’ method of teaching is peculiar; she later explains that she is trying to get her students to express a deep feeling in another language, so they learn to convey meaningful emotions, rather than simple statements, such as whether they like to play an instrument or not.
The series of questions that she asks Isong are later repeated with her other students in an uncanny, almost scripted manner, that prompts the viewer to question exactly what it is both Iris and Sang-soo are attempting to accomplish. There is a sense that a joke is being played on both Iris’ students and on the audience, one that we are not a part of. This sense of alienation is further imbued through the use of editing. In particular, several unexpected zoom-ins give us the feeling of watching a home-video of sorts.
Whether the film is a comedy is ambiguous; it is funny at times, but also profoundly contemplative. Iris goes about life in a flippant, but ultimately earnest, manner. She is an enigma, dressed in bright colors, with an almost child-like appearance and sensibility. She appears, seemingly out of nowhere, fitting the cover of the film, “on a bench in a neighborhood park, diligently playing a child’s recorder. With no money or means of supporting herself, she was advised to teach French. In that way, she became a teacher to two Korean women.”
Throughout the duration of the film, we follow Iris over the course of a day as she interacts with her surroundings and takes pleasure in the simplicity of daily life. We watch her walk barefoot through the park, wade in the stream, eat bibimbap at a local restaurant, and drink several glasses of makkeolli, a beverage that she “relies on […] everyday for a small bit of comfort.”
By the end, we are no closer to knowing her life story. She maintains her mystique; we do not know why she has chosen to come to Korea or what her life was like before she arrived. We do, however, come to be fond of Iris’ eccentricities, as do the other characters in the film, whom she manages to charm, even finding someone who allows her to live with him for free.
The final scene (as the camera lingers on the rock) in the same neighborhood park that Iris first appeared in, is as cryptic as the rest of the film. We don’t know what the future holds for Iris, just as we do not know her past. She exists as a figure that other characters can project their own desires and meanings onto, just as the audience sees themselves within her. Ultimately, as we watch her walk away, we are left wondering if Iris has reached the enlightenment that she supposedly seeks or if she is still searching for meaning through connection in this mysterious world.
Bird
On a cozy Sunday, I traveled into Old City Philadelphia to visit the Film Society East and experience one part of the Philadelphia Film Festival— the film of the hour Bird, directed by Andrea Arnold and a highly anticipated coming-of-age story that did not disappoint.
The beginning of the film introduced me to an unfamiliar setting: Gravesend, Kent, a town east of London. A combination of gray skies, vast landscapes, and gritty inner-city settings brings a sense of nostalgia for the main character Bailey’s childhood. If the film could be described in one word, it would be escapism. The overarching feeling of “making it out” with one’s mind far before one can physically leave is embodied by this story. Stuck between two parents, one struggling with domestic abuse and the other finding sketchy ways to make money for his upcoming wedding, Bailey spends most of her time with a group of boys who run in a local gang. One morning, she awakens in a green field surrounded by horses and alarming text messages from her father Bug. In the distance, she sees a mystical man, prancing around in a skirt. This man, who calls himself “Bird,” asks Bailey for help finding his parents. They embark on an adventure to track them down as their lives gradually intertwine with each other.
Bird’s role in Bailey’s life becomes clear through the movie as he reflects her life onto her, revealing the pressure she feels at just 12 years old. He begins to intervene, drawing her away from the stress in her life, and protecting her. He takes on a parental fairy godfather role as he weaves understanding and safety into her life. There is an immense sense of gratitude towards this character, as he fulfills his duty to Bailey and the inner child of those experiencing the film. Being in the theater, this identification with both characters was audibly felt through collective sighs of relief and sympathetic cries. In life, I think we all play both of these roles as we change from someone who needs protection to a protector. These themes of fantasy grasped the audience in such strong feelings, and of course, this would not be possible without such a talented cast including Nykiya Adams as Bailey, Barry Keoghan as Bug, and Franz Rogowski as Bird.
The Room Next Door
Pedro Almodovar’s first English-language film, The Room Next Door, confronts death, choice, and agency. The movie stars Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore, as a pair of recently reunited friends, one of which is years into a successful writing career, and the other who is suffering from a cancer that hasn’t responded to treatment. Both Swinton and Moore act their roles with incredible coldness, distance, and dignity. Almodovar’s script and the looming death of Swinton’s character, Martha, require a level of detachment from the performances.
Faced with inevitable death, Martha enlists the help of Ingrid (Moore) in illegally euthanizing herself, using a pill she ordered through the internet. The two rent a cottage in Upstate New York for a month and plan for Martha to die while Ingrid sleeps in the so-called “room next door.” Ingrid’s secret relationship with a man they both dated years ago complicates this plan.
There were many aspects of Almodovar’s film that unsettled me, and made for an uncomfortable viewing experience overall. The dialogue, in almost every case, was far from naturalistic. Each character spoke in a highly calculated tone. However, the impersonal, unemotional energy of The Room Next Door is not without its purpose. Almodovar wants the audience to be confronted with the discomfort of death, especially a death that is meticulously planned. Our discomfort mirrors that of Ingrid, when Martha first requests her help. Interestingly, Ingrid is Martha’s fourth choice, having already been rejected by her daughter and several closer friends. Despite the fact that she’s highly uncomfortable with the idea and she doesn’t even seem to like Martha very much, Ingrid agrees. It is this kind of acceptance that Almodovar seems interested in examining. In The Room Next Door, he presents two women that embrace a fate they do not at all desire. For Martha, it is accepting an early death. For Ingrid, it is allowing Martha the agency to make this choice.
All the awkwardness of The Room Next Door, its melodramatic music, and its matter-of-fact approach, succeed in bringing forth a unique and uncomfortable film. The combined power of Swinton and Moore’s performances also made for a fascinating watch.
The Room Next Door is scheduled for limited release in the United States by Sony Pictures Classics, on December 20. It is a film about giving up your preferences and allowing the unpleasant to occur. At the end of our lives, we are all forced to yield to the discomfort of death. The Room Next Door highlights all the smaller acts of concession we’re forced to make along the way.
Dreaming of You
A local and independent creation by writer and director Jack McCafferty as well as his feature film debut, Dreaming of You was screened at Film Society East on Oct. 18 and Oct. 27, with both screenings followed by a Q&A with McCafferty and Director of Photography Anthony Marotta.
We follow Miles Puck (McCafferty) who is troubled by insomnia brought on by nightmares and sleep paralysis with a shadow monster. He meets Ren (Lauren LaVera) at a sleep study, who struggles with sleep apnea. He is immediately taken by her and she continually appears in his thoughts and dreams shortly after. As he deals with his feelings for Ren and their growing relationship, he must also confront Ren’s problematic ex and his disruptive night terrors to ultimately decide whether his sleep disorder will have a final grasp on his livelihood and love life.
Despite its humble budget and resources, Dreaming of You was still able to enthrall the audience from start to finish. Before the film even started, McCafferty opened with a joke for the audience and set the atmosphere, saying “it [the film] is a comedy, so please laugh.” True to his words, the film garnered several laughs as the story unfolded. Miles gets a teddy bear wearing a pink bow named “Kip Van Winkle” at his sleep study who is a supportive figure and a hilarious sidekick throughout his dreams. Miles’ cousin and close friend, Carter (Ian Ross), also was a crowd pleaser winning Ross Honorable Mention for Best Actor at the festival.
What was most notable about the film was the combination of art and film. Miles’ dreams are shown through animation, all made by McCafferty, from collages to drawings and graphic art. Real life and dreams bleed into each other as the conversations and interactions from the day cleverly make their way into that night’s dream and create a stimulating story told in art forms that match the subject of the dream. For example, Miles and Ren get into a long conversation about marine animals over text and in his dream shortly after, he and Kip are in a submarine in a green and black coding graphic style. Their submarine sends out a missile that is phallic shaped, as a joke of sending a “dick pic,” and they are attacked by the animals that Miles and Ren talked about. No matter the animation style, Miles’ curly hair and Kit’s bow tie are represented every time and it is the little details that made the film all that more endearing.
Being an independent film, Dreaming of You was a close knit project for McCafferty and the rest of the film’s crew, many of whom were friends and family. Berue Revue, which is a local rock band led by McCaferrty’s father, Bob “Beru” McCafferty, provided an original song for the film, “Let It Go” which plays during an unforgettable and almost mind-bending haunted house chase scene in one of Miles’ dreams. The film was in progress since 2020, but despite its obstacles during a “time of uncertainty”, it was clear to everyone in the theater that they did not hinder the film’s success in the end. McCafferty and Marotta found ways to work around the financial limitations, such filming mostly at his basement or with only two people per scene. He also stated that they were working on the film as they were constantly writing and improvising, all of which only added to bringing the audience closer to appreciating the film’s quirks. Now that they have a “feature under their belt,” Dreaming of You have built confidence in McCafferty and Marotta to aim bigger and in me to urge you not to sleep on it.
