Tótem (Totem)

Totem is a masterpiece, and a masterpiece of simplicity. It’ll transport you to childhood and all its feelings.

In it we follow Sol, a calm little girl who needs to keep herself busy. As her family bustles around the house preparing for Sol’s father’s birthday celebration, each member is in their own universe.

Will we see him soon? Maybe; but for now, like always, he needs to stay in the back room to rest. Dad just needs to rest, OK?

As Sol follows her boredom and curiosity around the property; as she’s shuffled from room to room by a different nervous wreck this time; as the camera shows her daydreaming face and stays low with her eye-line, we can’t help but feel her feelings. The picture, writing, and acting—from the entire ensemble, truly—are so naturalistic that never once did I think of this as fictional tale. I still don’t.

Sol, sola.

Together, we’ll stress about cake; give up on vacuuming; and gossip instead of preparing. We’ll live, we’ll cry happy and sad, and we’ll feel some deep truths of life.

Totem is beautiful, and a totem in itself.

No words.

The Survival of Kindness

I too want kindness to survive, but The Survival of Kindness is frustrating.

It follows BlackWoman (you read that right) as she tries to survive in a terrifyingly inhospitable world. It’s barren; there’s a sickness going around; and people in masks violently isolate or eliminate the non-masked. Maybe because of the sickness, but maybe because of their skin-color.

This scene made me thirsty.

It’s bleak stuff. And yet for the majority of the movie, BlackWoman is nice. She’s journeying through this scary place, to find what, it’s not clear, but maybe someone else who’s nice? The actor’s performance is contained and raw, creating a Christ-like presence for us to consider. With just the clothes on her back she finds a way to be generous with others.

The production quality is also impressive. Soft dissolves and artistic direction highlight how simple the world can be: beautiful here, harsh there. But most of all the movie frustrates.

On this journey we never learn about BlackWoman or this world or how things came to be this way. The dialogue-less writing is somehow both on-the-nose and cryptic, and its moral is arguably that being kind is antithetical to surviving. Or maybe not? It’s hard to enjoy a movie that either stands for that idea or is this confusing.

Searching for meaning in this movie.

And the King Said, What a Fantastic Machine

Wow, Fantastic Machine is PURE DANG FUN! Think of it as a clip show—of the most wonderful and goofy and disquieting moments that humans have ever recorded with a camera.

I mean, do you know how many thousands of generations couldn’t re-live their baby’s first steps? Couldn’t see the Earth for the pale blue dot it is? We have context and comfort now, thanks to this fantastic machine.

Does a horse at gallop always have one leg on the ground? Only with the camera could we settle the (rich man’s) bet.

And just as beautifully, it’s helped us laugh. If you don’t believe me, here, take this teaspoon of cinnamon powder. Look at how silly this woman is, hanging off the world’s tallest building with one arm to take the perfect pic. And when you’re done we can watch bloopers from a terrorist recruitment video—you know, the one that models its explosions on Hollywood movie trailers(?!).

Of course, we’ve done terrible, awful things with the camera, too, and the moviemakers force us to reckon with that fact. Like when that movienerd talks, completely enthralled, about her art—and not about how she was the pawn of a murderous dictator. Like when we see a deceased young girl swarmed by paparazzi. Yes, the camera can commodify even death.

What becomes clear is that as much as we’ve evolved this fantastic machine, it has evolved us. In reminding us of this, and in having us think about whether it’s OK, Fantastic Machine is a treasure.

BlackBerry

Oh, BlackBerry.

I wanted to like you! You’re an underdog story inspired by true events, in which nerds get rich and change the world! Oh, how I wanted to like you.

You were too much like your subject, though. You became pompous and focused on the wrong things.

To be fair, things weren’t all bad; kudos to the good stuff. While two nerds wonder if they’re on to something with this idea they’re calling a “smartphone”, we the audience know they are. The movie’s early scenes are therefore fun for us. Energetic, even. Pretty cool to be in the room where this world-changing idea was born.

And even better, fun becomes funny! When our nerds can’t get their idea off the ground, it seems that only a narcissistic, offensive megalomaniac can help them. This guy—his screaming at unsuspecting people—is equal parts magnetizing and comical. The actor’s portrayal of him? Impressively, scarily good.

So that’s the story. A revolutionary idea grows around these three, from diner booth to corporate powerhouse, with intrigue and legal trouble along the way.

Just a few nerds, in motion.

Lovely. But as the real BlackBerry company can attest, good parts do not guarantee a great product.

Take the camerawork. It’s a shaky, zippy, disorienting mess trying to convince us that we’re watching a documentary—which makes no sense, because in the beginning, the movie tells us that we aren’t. And despite the suit, nerd #1, and a couple of other folks delivering convincing performances, nerd #2 is so childlike and oblivious that he feels more like a movie character than a human being.

The most difficult part to overlook, though, seems to be why the movie was made in the first place.

Yea yea, it’s fun to see corporate intrigue and visionary nerds being socially incompetent, but why does this failed-company movie dumb down the failures? If these three people are important enough to center a movie around, then why aren’t we learning more about where they came from, or what motivated them as the years passed? Is corporate all the audience cares about?

In telling us a story of a company, BlackBerry fails to tell us a story about the people who built it. It is a hollow product that doesn’t live up to its potential.

A moment of contemplation. Or rage. It’s hard to tell with this guy.