Life goes on after a bizarre shooting event in Martín Rejtman’s absurdist TWO SHOTS FIRED
TWO SHOTS FIRED (DOS DISPAROS) (Martín Rejtman, 2014)
Film Society of Lincoln Center, Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center
Howard Gilman Theater / Francesca Beale Theater
144 West 65th St. between Broadway & Amsterdam Aves.
May 13-19
212-875-5601
www.filmlinc.com
www.cinematropical.com
Last year, award-winning Argentine writer-director Martín Rejtman returned with his first film in eight years (and only his fourth feature in his nearly thirty-year career), the absurdist black comedy Two Shots Fired. The calmly paced story begins as sixteen-year-old Mariano (Rafael Federman), after a night of dancing, goes about his daily chores, swimming laps in his family’s backyard pool (as the dog runs alongside him) and mowing the lawn. He shows no emotion when he accidentally runs over the mower’s electric cord; instead he simply goes into the house for tools to fix it. There he also finds a box with a gun, so he goes into his room, puts the gun against his head, and pulls the trigger, like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. He then places the barrel against his stomach and shoots himself a second time. The first shot merely grazes his temple, while the second shot seems to have left a bullet lodged in his body. Mariano evenhandedly claims that he is not depressed and was not trying to kill himself, and his friends and family essentially act as if nothing has happened, going on with their simple, ordinary lives. The only ones who appear to be even the slightest bit concerned are his mother (Susana Pampin), who secretly hides all the scissors and kitchen knives, and the dog, who runs away.
When Mariano attempts to go anywhere with his brother (Benjamín Coelho) that involves passing through a metal detector, the system beeps at him; when his brother tries to explain that it must be because there is a bullet in him, Mariano doesn’t care, opting not to enter, instead waiting outside without complaining, explaining, or making a scene. When he practices with his woodwind quartet, his recorder releases a second note every time he plays, presumably the result of the lodged bullet, but he continues on, like it’s no big deal. And when his cell phone incessantly goes off, he doesn’t get mad or embarrassed; he simply tries to find a place to put it where it won’t disturb him or anyone else. He, and everyone around him, including a potential girlfriend (Manuela Martelli) and his music teacher (Laura Paredes), just keep on keeping on, going about their business, virtually emotionless. They’re not trying to forget what happened; instead, it’s like it is just another part of daily existence in this Buenos Aires suburb. A minimalist, Rejtman first focuses his camera on a place, then doesn’t move it as characters walk in and some kind of “action,” however critical or monotonous, takes place; then the people leave the frame as the camera lingers, like Ozu on Valium. What happens is just as important, or unimportant, as what doesn’t happen. Every scene is treated the same, a meditation on the mundanity of life (with perhaps more than a passing reference to how Argentina has dealt with los desaparecidos and its long-running volatile political climate). And just like life, parts of the film are boring, parts are wildly funny, parts are unpredictable, and parts are, well, just parts of life. A selection of the 52nd New York Film Festival, Two Shots Fired is having its official U.S. theatrical release May 13-19 at Lincoln Center in conjunction with “Sounds Like Music: The Films of Martín Rejtman,” with Rejtman on hand for Q&As following the 6:30 screenings on May 13 and 15. The one-week festival also includes Rejtman’s Elementary Training for Actors, The Magic Gloves, Rapado, and Silvia Prieto.
A groundbreaking work in the history of world cinema, Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali and its two sequels, Aparajito and Apur Sansar, have been meticulously restored by the Criterion Collection and the Academy Film Archive following a nitrate fire in 1993 — the year after Ray was awarded an honorary Oscar on his deathbed — and now are being shown together as “The Apu Trilogy,” running May 8-28 at Film Forum. Inspired by a meeting with Jean Renoir in Kolkata, where Renoir was shooting The River, and watching ninety-nine films in six months while working as a graphic designer for an advertising agency in London, Ray decided to make his first film, adapting Bibhutibhushan Banerjee’s 1929 novel, which he knew well; Ray had contributed illustrations to a later edition of the book. The film took nearly five years to make as Ray faced repeated financing problems, such delays as cattle eating flowers that were needed for an important scene, and a cast and crew primarily of nonprofessionals. Despite all those issues, Pather Panchali is a stunning masterpiece, a bittersweet and captivating tale of a rural family mired in poverty, struggling to survive in extremely hard times. In a small village, Sarbajaya (Karuna Banerjee) is raising her daughter, Durga (Runki Banerjee), a rambunctious teen, and son, Apu (Subir Banerjee), while her husband, dreamer Harihar (Kanu Banerjee), a wannabe playwright and poet, goes off for months at a time, trying to find work in the city. (The actors shared a common surname but were not related in real life.) Sarbajaya is also caring for their elderly cousin, “Auntie” Indir (retired theater actress Chunibala Devi), who walks very slowly, hunched over and with impossibly leathery skin. The family goes about its business from day to day, as the kids play with friends, figure out how they can get something from the sweets man, and hang out with Auntie, who offers a fresh perspective on life. Sarbajaya is embarrassed that she cannot pay back several rupees she owes her relatively wealthy neighbor, who owns an orchard from which Durga steals fruit. It’s a meager existence, but it avoids being completely dark and bleak because of Auntie’s sense of humor and Apu’s wide-eyed innocence. The film is told from his point of view — in fact, the first time we see him, he is lying down, covered, and one of his eyes pops open, dominating the screen. It’s a difficult, challenging life, but there’s always hope.
Named Best First Film at the 2014 Jerusalem Film Festival, Bazi Gete’s Red Leaves is a compelling cinema-vérité-style tale of an Ethiopian Jewish family dealing with a very stubborn patriarch following the death of his wife. The film opens as a man tries to lead a goat to slaughter, an apt metaphor for what might become of seventy-four-year-old Meseganio Tadela (Debebe Eshetu), a solemn survivor of Sudan who suddenly tells his family that he has sold his home and will spend the rest of his life living with each of them in Tel Aviv. So he shows up unannounced at one son’s home, then another’s, leaving behind psychological wreckage that might never be undone. A stubborn man of few words, Meseganio is determined to preserve the old traditions in changing times that are quickly passing him by. His adherence gets him into trouble with his children and grandchildren, who have different priorities. Gete and cinematographer Edan Sasson use a handheld camera that puts the viewer at the Shabbat dinner table with the family as they playfully joke around with one another but afterward reveals Meseganio sitting by himself as everyone else goes on about their life without him. He can’t keep from interfering in his children’s lives, and he sticks his nose in various situations that turn volatile, from a confrontation with his granddaughter Bosna (Ruti Asarsai) to battles with his son Baruch’s (Meir Dassa) wife, Zehava (Hanna Haiela), and his other son, Moshe (Solomon Mersha). “Nothing to live for,” Meseganio’s friend Achenaf (Molla Megistu) says, but Meseganio has plenty to live for, if he would only recognize it. The final twenty minutes, and the wholly ambiguous ending, are heartbreaking and painful as the old man tries to find his way.