JDIFF DAY 10 - ...and we're back: Kenneth Anger and Savage

Posted on Sunday February 28, 2010, 09:35 by Sam Toy in Under The Radar

I have to admit, the distraction of being hastily called away to shoot a short film was an enjoyable one, but I’m regretting how much great stuff I’ve missed out on since being away from Dublin this week. What, exactly? For starters, the chance to revisit my second favourite movie of 2010 thus far, I Love You Phillip Morris, an early peek at the much anticipated sequel to Todd Solondz’s Happiness that is Life In Wartime, a well-received documentary from ‘the Italian Michael Moore’ taking potshots at the Berlusconi administration with Videocracy, and the brilliant Lebanon, plus rare big screen airings of the likes of La Dolce Vita, one-take wonder (okay, not really, but you know what I mean) Russian Ark, and Eyes Without A Face. The thing I’m really kicking myself for missing, though? The concert celebrating the film music of Nino Rota, which played to a rapturous crowd at the National Concert Hall. Here’s hoping the organisers can arrange something similar next year (Ennio Morricone gets my number one vote, pleasethankyou).

Also since I've been away, they've been handing out Voltas left, right and centre. They're basically a JDIFF award for awesomeness (named after the first dedicated cinema in Ireland, established by none other than James Joyce, don'tchaknow). This year's recipients were three quiet-yet-huge achievers, all actors - Ciaran Hinds, Patricia Clarkson and Kristin Scott Thomas. Well deserved all-round, and I wish I could have been there to hear what they had to say upon accepting their statues.

I was, however, in time for the final part in a trilogy of screenings celebrating the short films of Kenneth Anger (he of the Hollywood Babylon books fame/notoriety). I’ll fully disclose my ignorance here, and say that my knowledge of avant-garde cinema is elementary, and I’ve not read Anger’s biography – although it’s now firmly on my reading list. Personally, I thought the three films shown (Invocation Of My Demon Brother, Rabbit’s Moon, and Lucifer Rising) were mostly rubbish, clumsy and dating poorly, doing little to alter my stance on experimental/pure visual art cinema, but as Anger himself explained in the fantastic Q&A afterwards, he makes films that are very personal to him – a biproduct from the luxury of working outside of the system (he’s not even an indie filmmaker, he’s an underground filmmaker) for his entire career. The Satanist director looked in very good shape for an 83 year old who, I’m guessing, must have gone through some pretty wild times over the years, as he fielded audience questions on some of the most famous stories from his career – the infamous incident of being blackmailed for his movie-napped first version of Lucifer Rising by the Manson family, and Jimmy Page’s half-finished score for the second. In fact, Page’s 22 minute contribution is the best thing about this rare version of the film, which I now feel privileged to have seen. Nothing topped, however, one hilarious story where - if I heard it right - he said he has worked with the steadfastly Christian Jonas Brothers, and now wears the purity ring of the eldest (not because he took the boy’s purity, sadly, but because he’s now married and no longer requires it). This pretty much summed up the event for me – the stories behind the films are much better than the films themselves – although I’m certain that there was no shortage of people in the screening who would argue passionately with me about that.

Next, I headed over to the Light House to catch Brendan Muldowney’s Savage, which can count as Dublin’s entry into the burgeoning sub-genre of ‘harrowing urban drama’ – and a fine entry it is, too. Darren Healy delivers a screen-searing turn as Paul Graynor, a mild-mannered photographer who suffers a nightmarish assault that leaves him deeply traumatised, and struggling with what is left of his masculinity. So begins an odyssey downwards, with harrowing consequences, which are tragic at best, mortifyingly tragic otherwise. To lump this as a simple revenge movie (and that’s everything from Death Wish to Dead Man’s Shoes) is being way too simplistic: Muldowney has wisely shifted focus away from those familiar beats, onto Paul’s struggle to find solace in any other option he can – to overcome his crippling fear, to cover his scars with surgery; it’s a fresh, grim, take.

The bursts of violence are few and far between, but they are very powerful, and genuinely disturbing – imagine a line of progression through Taxi Driver (for its day) and Irreversible; that trajectory will lead you straight into Savage. So be warned – it’s not for the squeamish. It is entirely justified though, and at times, thanks to Muldowney’s considerable skill as a storyteller, you’ll realise after the fact that you’ve actually been spared some of the worst details. In hindsight, it was interesting to see at the Q&A afterwards just how controversial Savage wasn’t, with praise from the audience coming thick and fast.

It’s not perfect: there is the odd loose plot-thread here and there (something which Muldowney willingly acknowledges) and I need to see the end again to figure out if my hunch about the climax is correct - but I’ll not spoil it here. For the most part though, Savage is a devastatingly punchy piece of low-budget filmmaking.