I was watching the final showing of the final film in San Francisco’s International Film Festival, to which I had vowed greater attention this year. Takushi Tsubokawa’s “Aria” begins with the methodical tuning of a piano by protagonist Ota. My mind drifts to the mathematical nature of music and, as Ota tests and corrects octave intervals, I think of how a note an octave higher than another vibrates at precisely double its frequency.

Having spent the previous week in Mexico reading (among other things) “Society of the Spectacle“, my mind is steeled against attempts to assert any unexamined narratives into my head. I am delighted with “Aria”, as it seems to speak an entirely different visual language than the ultraslick MTV style pervading our media. Shots are framed with excessive white space (a head and shoulders against a bleak sky, for instance) and prolonged to the point where I become aware that a less elegant movie would’ve cut long ago. The characters—a piano-tuner, an antiques dealer, a puppeteer, a high school principal, and more—are eccentric without being caricatures and resist any taxonomy I try to impose upon them. I become hopeful that an escape from the Spectacle is possible.

We are lucky that the director is available to speak with us afterward. He takes questions from the audience, via an interpreter who does his best to translate both Japanese to English and ethereal director-speak to something comprehensible. He does a good job until someone asks about the “Wizard of Oz” nature of the film. It hadn’t occurred to me before the question but all the elements are there: characters leaving home in search of fulfillment, a brightly colored path (albeit red trellis instead of yellow brick), a wizard telling them to go home instead of solving their problems but then having a change of heart and helping them on their way, even the song “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is included (though played on a musical saw).

“Yes, someone asked about that in Korea, too,” the interpreter offers. “All I can say is that it’s a coincidence. I haven’t seen that film in thirty years, but I guess I need to again. And that’s the only song the actor knew how to play on the musical saw.”

Walking out of the theater, I’m reminded of Spider Robinson’s “Melancholy Elephants“, as it was recently featured on Boing Boing. The story, which I’ll let you read on your own, posits that we artists are not creators but discoverers. Beautiful music exists in some universal form and we, as artists, merely stumble upon it. Art, then, is an applied science—the application of fundamental wisdom (like the Golden Ratio) to express aspects of the human condition. As such, the raw materials of art (be they characters or chord progressions) are as finite as the raw materials for any other industry.

Takushi Tsubokawa says that he wrote “Aria” the last time he was in San Francisco. He didn’t know any English and felt very alone, spending most of his time at the beach. In contrast, Frank Baum (author of the Wizard of Oz) cites Lewis Carrol’s “Alice in Wonderland” as a major influence. From drastically different methodologies, such similarities yet surface. Is it possible that life is and has always been the same old story rehashed over and over using different languages of varying quality? That The Spectacle is not a bourgeois plot, but merely a manifestation of the plot? That “all the world’s a stage”?

“Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily/Life is but a dream.”

The description in the SFIFF guide pitched the movie as a sort of tragic buddy movie, two friends learning that things weren’t going to go as planned. I had two fears as I waited for the film to begin. First, that it would be entirely light-hearted and offer me nothing to make sense of the very similar situation I’ve found myself in (my best friends are currently living in Indiana, Florida, Colorado, and South Korea) and second that someone was going to commit suicide (not an option for me). Before the film began a presenter explained that, while technically “Reprise” was the first film from director Joachim Trier, he has made a lot of skate videos in his home country of Norway. My hopes were not lifted by this foreword, as I had hoped for something more insightful than Nordic youth wrestling with becoming middle-aged Peter Pans—an “SLC Punk” set in Oslo.

The first 5 minutes sketches an alternative plot, where everything goes right, before spending the remainder 100 minutes telling the story as it happened to go. The device is revisited multiple times in the film, giving us access into the hopes of the characters before we see the reality unfold. In this way, the film well captures both the idealism held by the youthful protagonists and makes us feel, not just watch, their disillusionment as nothing seems to go as expected. Even brilliant success is not quite what it’s cracked up to be. My first fear, that the film would lack any depth in its stroytelling, was clearly unfounded.

The second, fear of suicide being the only way out, was harder to dispel. Obviously, I would tend to spoil the ending if I confirmed whether or not this fear was realized. Instead let me just say that the filmmaker and actors all do an excellent job of keeping the option on the table throughout the whole of the film. Mental breakdown, unnecessary risk, star-crossed lovers, professional envy, utter artistic disintegration—they’re all there and their consequences are palpable to characters and audience alike. (I just used they’re, there, and their in the same sentence.) Top it all off with an opening credits slow-motion scene awash in a booming Ian Curtis (see intro paragraph) shouting, “a loaded gun won’t set you free/so you say” and you can sense the countdown.

Such depth of storytelling, real concern for the characters, and a healthy sprinkling of genuine humor make this a wholly wonderful film. Possibly the best review is contained within it. Talented author Erik, talking with his new publisher, discovers they share a favorite book. “It would’ve been a bestseller if it were written in English.” It’s got everything that made “Garden State” a hit, I’d even put Victoria Winge up against Natalie in the oh-too-cute-girl-next-door category.

Working in the communications department of an environmental non-profit, a film about the disinformation campaigns staged by energy companies about global warming probably wasn’t going to contain a truckload of surprises for me. In fact, I cover such things all the time on this blog. It did surprise me how the filmmakers managed to make a potentially bleak subject pretty funny (they describe it as a “toxic comedy”) while leaving the issue its deserved respect.

Before the showing, writer/director Daniel Gold addressed the crowd. The film had began years ago and, after months and months of researching for a film about whether or not global warming was real, it became absolutely clear to everyone that what was really needed was a film about why there’s still any doubt—they name it the “global warming gap”, or the difference between what scientists know to be true and what the public thinks. Journalist Ross Gelbspan puts it plainly in the film, “they’ve stolen our reality.”

Ross is but one of many heroes and villains interviewed in the film, I couldn’t help but think of him as the star. Years ago, he co-wrote an article about climate change and disease; skeptics immediately attacked it. His first reaction, as a journalist, was to research their side of the argument. Thinking the jury was still out in the scientific community, he backed off and even felt guilty. Later he discovered that these skeptics were all funded by the coal industry. He gets pissed and becomes determined to see how deep the rabbit hole goes. A decade later and Ross has retired because it’s too damn depressing. He shrugs to the camera, admitting that article after article has made no dent and that—his daughter sitting not three feet from him on the couch—we’re probably fucked. Another few years later and we see him pulled out of retirement by Katrina and traveling all over the nation speaking with high schools, colleges, the next generation. His is an irrepressible heroism.

The “next generation” is full of cameos of people I know. While climate crusader Bill McKibben inspires a crowd, we see Billy Parish listening intently. Billy has done his fair share of inspiring others as founder of the Climate Campaign and co-founder of Energy Action, the nation’s largest youth climate coalition. Another next-genner can be seen as the dastardly Competitive Enterprise Institute counter-protests a climate action shouting, “Greenpeace kills! Greenpeace kills!” Campaigner Dan Firger smiles at the camera, “uhm, we’re not even Greenpeace.”

I had mentioned before that I was worried that Nordhaus and Shellenberger, co-authors of “The Death of Environmentalism” didn’t come off as heroes. I’ve only met Nordhaus in person but followed the whole debate from a few years ago quite closely (just google “death of environmentalism“). The film gets them just right: smart as hell, a tad reckless, and more than a tad completely full of themselves.

Unfortunately, mine was the last screening at SFIFF, but you can learn more, get involved, and pre-order the DVD on the official website. It’s got more laughs than Inconvenient Truth, that’s for sure.

Last year I managed to make it to three films:

“Who Killed the Electric Car?”

I describe this movie, whenever I get a chance, as the Schindler’s List of Electric Vehicles. To watch the amazing EV1 get shredded to bits because some fat cat is trying to hide that they’re better than the stuff GM currently makes is absolutely heart-wrenching. Well, it wrenched my heart at least. Plus, I’m dating one of the supporting actresses.

“American Blackout”

I acknowledge that Cynthia McKinney is a little batty, if not very batty. But the House of Representatives is supposed to represent America and I know plenty of people who share both her politics and her penchant for conspiracy theories. Ignoring her controversial ego, the much stronger part of this film was the rigorous documentation of how systematic the campaign to suppress the black vote has become. The Republicans have quite an impressive playbook for that game.

“The DaVinci Code”

Okay, so I didn’t quite make it to three. Embarrassing, I realize. Given that both of the above films are the kind you can’t just walk into a theater in Middle America and watch, it’s truly a crime not to take better advantage of this festival.

Keeping with that sentiment, here are the ones I’m planning to catch this year, alphabeticalish:

“The Deal”

The writer/director combo of “The Queen” swings their attention to Prime Minister Tony Blair and shady backroom wheeling and dealing among Labour Party. Intrigue! World politics! British accents!

“Everything’s Cool”

As I work for an environmental non-profit, this one’s hard to miss. Promising to be a vaguely comedic send up of what my girlfriend calls (only quasi-ironically) the “Non-profit/Industrial Complex”, the film follows the re-explosion of environmentalism thanks to climate change going mainstream. My only hope is that Nordhaus and Shellenberger aren’t framed as the heroes.

“Paprika”

It’s only got one show time, which I’m going to miss, but someone really should see this just to make sure it’s as wonderful as it looks. I’ve been an anime fan for a long time and very pleased that the genre has grown up with me (Thundercats, on the other hand, is completely unwatchable now).

“Reprise”

A group of 20-somethings determined to stick together whose careers take them in different directions. Considering that very well describes the last year of my life, I’m treating this one as a documentary—and praying that it doesn’t with the death of the main character or something suitably tragic.

“When the Levees Broke”

Spike Lee. Katrina. Documentary. Should be intense.

“Aria”

I have a feeling that this one’s going to be very Murakami-esque. Maybe because it takes place in Hokkaido, a place inextricably linked in my mind with magical sheep and a seemingly perfect destination for vaguely surreal character-driven drama. Of course, I might be off.

I’m planning on going fully Ebert (sans the missing jaw) this year and posting reviews as I cross the above off my list. You may have to sit tight for a bit though, as I mentioned before, I’ll be in Mexico next week.

I really will be in Mexico next week, but if I wasn’t, that would be a great way to end every post, eh? “Thanks for reading and, before I forget, I’m going to be in Mexico next week.” Kind of like, “Most likely kill you in the morning…“