From Dhaka-London-Berlin
For someone from Bangladesh to attend Berlinale physically, it takes a lifetime of planning. Especially post-covid, getting a visa appointment means you have to know someone in a position to influence the embassy to give you a slot. The process is not easy or straight forward. The paperwork is excessive.
Even if you have painstakingly managed all that, the travel expense burns a bigger hole in third world wallets, and you generally have no idea what you will be doing there. Are you going as a member of the press or as a jury, the selection of which is done but a month before the festival? The program is also announced much later, so you wouldn't know if there is enough representation from your part of the world for enough papers to be interested in your point of view to commission any work. Simply put, you never know if anyone is paying for anything while you invest roughly six months of your salary on a whim.
My decision to take a leap of faith this year without a clue about how I'll make this Berlinale count was made easier by a scholarship in London. The UK visa appointment and processing took a total of seven excruciating months, shifting my fellowship date to coincide with Berlinale. The leap from London to Berlin was a much more convenient one than from Dhaka.
Call it ‘amor fati,' but getting to write a daily column at Tagesspiegel, makes me glad that the visa took so long to be issued and I'm here again. The enthralling array of films, talks, workshops, press conferences- still has me scratching and scribbling in my calendar. To my surprise, I found eight South Asian films in the program this year. The Retrospective section even has a film (‘Aparajito') by my guru, the greatest Bengali filmmaker of all time, Satyajit Ray. As it appears, the universe may have also planned somethings for me way ahead of time.
An homage to coming of age films
When going through this year's program, the Retrospective section jumped from the pages with its diversity and relatability. Was I reading it right? “Now and Then,” a film that meant the world to a 12-year-old me, but was shunned by critics (if a Rotten Tomato score of 33% is any indication), proudly occupied a space amongst the universally lauded G.O.A.T.s.
Upon further inspection, I came to know this section was curated by other G.O.A.T.s. Bengali screen siren Aparna Sen had curated Satyajit's “Aparajito (1956),” US actor Ethan Hawke selected Francis Ford Coppola's “Rumble Fish (1983),” Iranian actress Niki Karimi chose Abbas Kiarostami's “Where is My Friend's House?” and so on. So, naturally I was curious to see who recommended “Now and Then (1995).” Lo and behold, it was none other than the jury president of Berlinale 2023, the unapologetically authentic Kristen Stewart.
When “Now and Then” played on Star Movies in the winter of 1997, all my friends and I could think about was running around town in bikes like Roberta, Samantha, Tina and Chrissy. We spent that year-end vacation planning to build a tree house like those girls in search of self. That was then. Fast forward to 2021, upon re-watching the film, most of its appeal was lost on the now grown-up film critic whose thoughts are more in tune with the Rotten Tomato experts.
I drew the conclusion that I had poor taste in films as a kid. Here are people flaunting their childhood influences to be Scorsese, Ray, Kiarostami, with their 100% tomato-meter scores and I was raving about this one. Berlinale, at long last, put a resounding validation stamp on that belittled pre-teen. People's tastes change. Many films we loved as adolescents are trifled for one technical mediocrity or the other, but that doesn't take away one bit from what it meant to us back then.
Festival programmers usually remain behind the curtain, much like the Wizard of Oz, making decisions without the audience knowing the who and the why of it. This time, Berlinale not only put the names of who selected which film in this section in the catalogue, they also released several bites on Instagram about why they selected the films. This refreshing new take upped expectations even more from the “Spencer” actress and her fellow juries who will confer the elusive Golden Bear.
Steven Spielberg beyond films
While Kristen Stewart and her cohorts decide on the Golden Bear winner, Steven Spielberg is set to receive this year's Honorary Golden Bear on February 21. When it comes to creating, popularizing and owning genre, the “Jaws” director has the Midas touch. He can also be credited for single-handedly spreading “galeophobia” (fear of sharks) and shark hunting as a sport, for which he expressed deep regret in a recent BBC interview. Nonetheless, it is a testament to the power of cinema- positive or otherwise.
The film was my introduction to Spielberg and sharks. My father had rented the first two parts of the franchise back in 1990. The aftermath- I dropped out of swimming classes, refused to get in the shower alone. The sound of water splashing triggered flashbacks of those shark attack scenes. I was terrified, yet fascinated with sharks. I still am, strikingly so, to this day. From the shark motif face-mask I carry in my purse to my go-to messenger emojis- sharks are everywhere. All this from a 1975 plastic animatronic shark that couldn't scare anyone up close in real life.
As I prepare to meet the veteran director on Tuesday at a press conference, I'm amazed at how his films shaped many aspects of my life. The other franchise of the maestro that had a lasting effect on me was “Indiana Jones.” It's only after I studied the imperial gaze at UCLA that I realized how “The Temple of Doom” (1984), as unintentional as it may be, re-enforced the notion of the uncivilized, exotic South Asian depicting human sacrifice, serving raw monkey brains for dessert, which we all, like the Caucasians in the film, found repulsive.
The 76-year-old's flair for birthing popular franchises may have fizzled out, but his latest feature, “The Fabelmans,” a one-off drama, has this awards season in a firm grip. With seven Oscar nominations and two Golden Globes wins, the semi-autobiographical film is gathering momentum before it hits the theatres in March. As a Golden Globes voter, I experienced this big movie on my small laptop screen. Not through piracy; we, the international voters, were given private screening links. How did the “E.T.” director fare this time? You can judge yourself when the film screens at Berlinale.
‘Ghaath'- A jungle even Mowgli couldn't survive in
Among the eight Indian films screening at this year's Berlinale, “Ghaath” (Ambush) in the Panorama section caught my eyes with a topic we hear in the news a lot- armed battles between the Maoists in central India and the police. People die and become statistics. Who they were and how they lived escape the scope of these routine coverages.
“Ghaath” was divided in three segments- Jamin (Land), Jol (Water), and Jungle. Each chapter glides smoothly into the next following a different protagonist; an undercover Maoist, an obsessed alcoholic police officer, and a disillusioned Maoist leader. Two other central characters were Perku, an aboriginal madman, and Kusari, a vulnerable tribal girl turned Naxalite informer, the only prominent female character in a jungle where the most feared creature is men. When we're first introduced to Perku, he hangs upside down from a tree to wash his hair without his body getting wet. He was content existing outside of the clutches of civilization, something the writer/director wished upon himself.
It's a jungle far removed from the fictional plains of Kipling. Even Bagheera couldn't protect these unfortunate man-cubs caught between the battle of ideologies. Characters from both sides are pathologically cruel, executing friends in the blink of an eye, without flinching, in the name of greater good or revenge or simply because their purpose has been served and they know too much to be trusted. We, however, never learn why they are fighting; what is at the root of this ideology that sets them apart, justifies all these killings in their minds.
Director Chhatrapal Ninawe belongs to this region. His ancestral place is close to where the film was shot. Visually, there is a lot of beauty to take in- the lake, the islands, the lush forest. The soundscape of the jungle was vividly immersive. You almost want to look over your shoulder to check if there's any creature lurking behind.
The film's journey was as dramatic as the film itself. Pulled from Berlinale in 2021 at the last minute by its former billionaire producers was an incident unmatched in the festival's recent past. “Ghaath” may not make as big a wave as some of the other films in the main competition, but it effectively put a face on the unfortunate statistics we see in the news too often.
A mixed bag of short films
Short films can be an enigma sometimes. The collection in the Berlinale Shorts, over the years, gave us puzzles to solve at varied difficulty levels, at times even keeping some crucial pieces stashed away. This year, I attended two of the five assortments of short films; some flew above my head while some nestled close to heart.
When we were judging the Critics Week at Cannes in 2019, a prominent German film critic told us if you don't like a film, you can sleep in the theatre, just make sure you don't snore; you'll disturb the person next to you, who might also be asleep. I try my best not to take up on that offer, but during the first batch of shorts, I gave up at one point. The film “8” was confusing enough to let my tired mind switch off for so long that I missed an entire short film that I was really looking forward to watch. Then came “Jill, Uncredited,” one of those films that rejoice in stashing away crucial puzzle pieces. However, if you have the patience to sit through it wearing Sherlock's beanie hat, or have read the blurb in the catalogue beforehand, enough clues appear to decipher this elementary mystery.
The second batch of shorts I watched were easier on the mind. There was some unique visual style, sound or story to take away from each of them. The use of found footage and experimentation was a common theme in many. But my mind kept going back to why I couldn't make sense of the previous shorts even after being in the business for over 11 years.
I talked to Anna Henckel-Donnersmarck, Head of Berlinale Shorts, about what her team of 8 programmers look for in these 20 films out of thousands of submissions. She had been in the selection committee for around 12 years and have headed the section for the past 4 years. “We don't always agree on every film,” she said. “Short films don't have to please a market. This creates liberties for the artists. We are interested to see what one does with those liberties.”
She described the film “8” as “anarchic, but coherent like poetry.” She confessed to not understanding the logic and seeing the film twice to make any sense of it. “Jill, Uncredited” also made her work to decrypt. Different films cater to different audiences and it's ok to be lost sometimes.
Reinventing Seneca
Ever since the wildly popular German series “Dark” aired on Netflix, I had hoped to bump into the boy in the yellow coat in Berlin. Seeing him co-star in Robert Schwentke's new film “Seneca” at Berlinale and knowing there would be a press conference the day after, I prepared a witty question to ask at the pc that would make me stand out from a pool of very important-looking journalists. I even entertained the thought of buying a yellow coat to make an impression.
Alas! Louis Hofmann attended the red carpet, but skipped the press conference. As disheartened as it made me, the scintillating Q&A, mostly posed towards the director and Hollywood heavyweight John Malkovich, who plays the titular role in the film, more than made up for his absence.
This was one of those things that convinced me that the universe did indeed conspire to bring me to Berlin this year. For the last few months, I had obsessively studied stoicism. Now here I was watching a film on arguably the most famous of the stoics, Seneca. While it's not the most flattering portrayal of the philosopher, almost foolhardily goes against his teachings, the film chronicles Seneca's final moments through a satirical lens that is refreshingly original. It deals with an opportunist's innermost desire to be immortalized through his words. Whether or not he believes the words to be true or beneficial is secondary.
The ensemble cast includes Geraldine Chaplin (Charlie Chaplin's daughter), who plays an eccentric member of society's upper crust, ingeniously called a one-woman-opium-crisis by Seneca. Tom Xander's paranoid king/president Nero, Lilith Stangenberg's gullible Paulina, Louis Hofmann's timid Lucilius- all stand out amongst a modest number of characters used to tell a famous ancient tale with a present-day twist.
The film is highly stylized with incomplete sets, exaggerated hair-dos and makeup. In one scene, electric poles fill the backdrop while the Roman soldier tasked with bringing Seneca's body to Nero rides his horse. From over the top theatrical costumes to the wordy dialogues, there's a mishmash of then and now, historical, yet contemporary, throughout this dark comedy.
Contradictions such as these constantly reminds us that we're watching a movie, still we believe every scene because they ring true even after two thousand years. As Chaplin put it at the aforesaid press conference, “Things haven't changed. People make movies hoping it might change things. In fact, they don't.”
An intimate afternoon with Intimacy Coordinators
Since my attachment to Berlinale began with Berlinale Talents, I was naturally drawn to many of the Talents' public ticketed events this year. One of these fascinating talks was about working with intimacy coordinators. The hot topic piqued the interest of so many that HAU 3 couldn't house them all. Many from the stand in line that stretched all the way to the stairs had to leave when the seats filled up.
Professionals in the field, Kate Lush, Sondos Shabayek and Paula Alamillo Rodriguez gave us a quick peekaboo into this less-trodden road. Moderator Amanda Liz Cutting started by joking about how they can't just imagine people naked when they are nervous, because to them, it's work; a ton of work.
Intimacy coordinators are tasked with making the actors feel comfortable in intimate scenes that mostly constitute of kissing and simulated sex. They must earn the trust of both the director and the actors and convince both parties that they have both of their best interests at heart. The job is harder than it sounds. You're essentially a double agent, and you're not even undercover. The trust from any side can erode thinking you're prioritizing the other. Your job can easily be eliminated since it's still not legally binding to have one such professional on set.
When asked why we even need intimacy coordinators, why can't the director or their assistants do it- Rodriguez shared her experience of actors being afraid to speak up of their discomforts and boundaries to the directors. Many tell her about what's bothering them about an intimate scene, but in front of the director, they change their tone and agree to whatever is asked of them. They are trained to obey the captain of the ship, and there's often a clear imbalance of power on set.
Then comes the issue of handling minors or trauma survivors in such scenes that clearly require the involvement of an expert. Otherwise, such a scene has the potential to prolong the trauma or create new ones. These aspects of their jobs surfaced during the vivid Q&A session where a fluffy cube of a microphone was tossed among the audiences, a playful touch that prevails throughout the spectrum of props at Talents.
It is hard to believe that in the age of #MeToo, intimacy coordinators are still a luxury and not a requirement on sets. As the panelists cautioned, this still isn't a viable profession; one must wear many more hats just to survive.
‘An Atypical Orbit'
There are feature films that would work better as short films. Then there are those that make you shift in your seat for three hours wishing it was an exhibition instead where you could roam freely from one artwork to the next once you got the point, or moved on accepting that the point is lost on you somehow. Forum and Forum Expanded are homes for many such films. Luckily, our prayers were answered and there was a Forum Expanded exhibition this year.
Before entering the exhibition venue at Silent Green, you walk through a long, inclined ramp, dimly lit with overhead lights, guiding the vision towards a video (“Dreams”) of an old couple lying on a mattress in the middle of nowhere. They were the artist's parents, Tibetan exiles. The blanket they were covered in was one of the few possessions his mother took with them when migrating from India to the US. Their surroundings could be anything, but as long as they stuck together, they were safe.
As you enter the gallery, you are hit with a repetitive sound, someone continuously saying his/her name or counting from 1-10, coming from TV screens in front of theatre seats. The sound spills over to the video installation (“Revolver”) beside it where you sit on bean bags staring at images that yield patterns in one's brain, patterns that don't exist in reality. Here, the mind that loves connecting dots essentially becomes the author of the images.
Climbing downstairs to the larger gallery, the moving image that captivates visitors at first glance is one of two incredibly life-like, immersive waterfalls side by side, from the ceiling to the floor. At a closer glance, you see miniatures of several powerful world leaders and a large reflection of yourself on the water. This doesn't need a caption or a title (“Comrade Leader, Comrade Leader, How Nice to See You”) to make the viewers feel powerful and one with the even more powerful nature.
There was one round-shaped video recorded with a swallowed pill camera, accompanied by two other round videos overlapping like a Venn diagram. One of the installations had two videos- one of an aged couple cuddling, the other of the man walking alone on a beach, rendering the feeling of missing his partner. A scrapbook was on display, surrounded by hanging rectangular plates and projectors showing old footage on them.
Every one of these 10 video installations were memorable, some for the content, some for how they were arranged or projected at this Berlinale Forum Expanded exhibition aptly titled “An Atypical Orbit.”
EFM and other missed opportunities
The European Film Market that takes place as an integral part of Berlinale has always been the festival's biggest mystery to me. There are about 15,400 accredited film professionals who are attending Berlinale this year. For its sheer mammoth volume, it's difficult to figure out who at EFM might be useful for your next project if you don't know the person or the company beforehand. The fact that many of these professionals share their contacts with other accredited attendees is hugely beneficial, but how much access is granted with a press badge is a point of confusion to most.
On the 4th day of the festival, we were informed that we only have full access to EFM sessions for the last two days of the market. I was eager to take full advantage of this privilege, chalking out all the talks I hoped to attend. Unfortunately, when I reached the market venue, the people checking our badges for entry were not convinced we had been granted access to these sessions.
Disheartened by this incident, I opted to go to the press screening of a film competing for the Golden Bear. It was a Chinese animated film, “Art College 1994” set at a time when as a child I had lived there. I was eager to be nostalgic, but the film disappointed greatly. It dealt with the existential crisis of artists pursuing institutional education in art, and the dilemma of female students over marriage and career. These have all been said and done many times before. It felt like a missed opportunity in storytelling that didn't do justice to the canvas it painted on.
I regretted not watching the documentaries on the Ukraine war- Sean Penn's “Superpower,” Vitaly Mansky and Yehven Titarenko's “Eastern Front,” and Piotr Pawlus and Tomasz Wolski's “In Ukraine.” Maybe a subconscious part of me wasn't ready to see these images for it would make me too anxious for my sister Nadia who works in shelter management in Ukraine. Film festivals aren't immune to or silent about the political climate around the world. Not only are we witnessing more stories from Ukraine, Iranian women, including jury member Golshifteh Farahani, are also peacefully protesting at festivals against an oppressive regime.
I did finally get into an EFM session called “Plurality in non-fiction: What's at stake in the age of mainstream,” cutting through the red tapes. But how to navigate that long list of attendees still remains mystery.
A toast to diversity
The top European film festivals have often been credited with, as well as blamed for, championing a Euro-centric view of the world in art house films. While it might have upped the prestige of European cinema, it has contributed to an ever-widening rift between the audience and the artists in other parts of the world that sought acceptance from these festivals. Nonetheless, times are changing, and diversity in back in fashion, mainly for it makes more business sense, but we're not taking the pros that come with it lightly.
The South Asian representation this year was so vast that it would take thousands of words to even jot down the highlights. Other than the Marathi thriller “Ghaath,” I had the pleasure of watching “Atmapamphlet,” an Indian comedy that made audiences of all colour burst into laughter every few minutes. It was beautiful to see a comedy about uniting different religions and castes translate across cultures. As Charlie Chaplin once said, “Laughter is the greatest weapon,” and films like these are testaments to that.
Berlinale's South Asia Delegate and fellow International Voter of Golden Globes, Meenakshi Shedde organizes a breakfast each year with talents from this region. This time, among the 22 Berlinale Talents from here, there was one from my country, Bangladesh- Nuhash Humayun, whose short film “Moshari” qualified for the Oscars and is currently being developed into a feature film by a major Hollywood studio. Meenakshi pointed out to us that South Asians are an amazing 25% of the world's population- 1.6 billion worldwide, including 24 million diasporas. “It makes for a massive artistically and financially powerful film market,” she said.
My other identity, a Muslim, an identity the rest of the world has been systematically conditioned to fear or hate, was also represented well at the festival. As I discovered at an Arab Cinema mixer organized by IEFTA (International Emerging Film Talent Association), the film market in the region is booming, and no amount of political or religious propaganda could subvert these mighty individuals.
Bidding farewell to my beloved festival on a snowy morning, I'm reflecting on the talks and other highlighted events where even with all this diversity, the stars were still very white. The playing field is far from level yet, and the less privileged parts of the world still need an extra push to land in Berlin. Berlinale 2023 was a step in the right direction.
Sadia Khalid Reeti is the Showtime Editor of Dhaka Tribune. This is a part of a series first published in German at Tagesspiegel.