Rotterdam report part one

Geoff Andrew reviews a remarkable Kiarostami short and a deliciously dry debut from Chile.

Feb  1 2006

The Rotterdam Film Festival is not only one of the friendliest cinematic showcases around; it's also, most years, a good place to see a selection of adventurous and interesting movies from all over the world. This year, judging by the first few days, it's living up to expectations: no masterpieces, perhaps, but there were quite enough enjoyable movies to be going on with.

Mind you, this writer was fortunate enough to kick off with a small gem which he hadn't even known was going to be in the Festival. Abbas Kiarostami's 'Roads of Kiarostami' is just a short; indeed, for a while, it seems very minor indeed, as it merely alternates between sequences consisting of rostrum-camera shots of Kiarostami's stunning black and white landscape photos accompanied by the strains of Mozart, and long shots of Kiarostami's car negotiating winding mountain tracks as we hear his voice explaining the significance of the journey and the path in his own work and in Persian literature. But then it ceases simply to be a beautiful companion-piece for the photographic exhibitions that are regularly turning up around the world (the next opens in Barcelona on February 9); it's completely transformed by the introduction of footage of the director walking in the snow to take photos of animals, birds, trees, conveying an appreciation of the splendours of the natural world which, as its unexpected ending makes magnificently clear, is sadly all too vulnerable. Once again, the Iranian master has subtly used something very small to say something, finally, of quite massive import.

Perhaps the most impressive discovery, for me, of a newcomer's work was 'Play', the debut of Chilean Alicia Scherson, which charts the parallel fortunes of a young country girl working in Santiago as nurse to an ailing Hungarian, and of a well-off guy just emerging – very painfully – from a relationship; the connection between them is that she finds his briefcase and starts stalking him. Meanwhile, various other colourful characters have their say, too. It's a deliciously dry comedy, alert to differences in class, gender, ambition and experience, but never remotely preachy.

At one particularly enjoyable dinner, I found myself in the presence of directors Terry Gilliam, the Quay Brothers, Chris Petit and the great Czech surrealist Jan Svankmajer, whose fourth feature was one of the highlights of the Festival. With its take of an idealistic young hero apparently imprisoned in a remote castle serving as a mental hospital, 'Lunacy' may appear to be primarily related to the horror film – hardly surprising given that it's inspired in part by two stories by Poe. But the real presiding spirit is de Sade – the asylum seems to be run by a crazed count who has a nice line in blasphemy, orgies and other expressions of the individual libido – and it's in this respect that the film, a live action affair regularly punctuated by scenes of animated steaks, tongues and sausages, remains wholly true to the Surrealist ethos. This is subversive film-making in the Buñuelian vein, and if there's nothing quite as shocking as a razor slicing an eyeball, it still managed to upset some members of the audience with its fierce but rigorous interrogation of authority and conventional ethics.

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