Blue-Grotto की समीक्षाएं

Bathed in moonlight, soothed by a lullaby, haunted by something intangible, cradled in the wind, buoyed by water, and flying in a dream; four girls are connected through time in the place they inhabit. Alma in the 1900s, Erika in the 1940s, Angelika in the1980s, and Lenka in the present, all occupy the same landscape and their feelings - good and bad, happy and sad - are radiated to the others. Going back and forth in time, the girls struggle to know and be themselves.

"Funny how something can hurt that's no longer there."

Sound of Falling has all the elements I love in film; a camera that moves like a ghost through beautiful scenery, deep conversations, a mysterious storyline that unravels like a puzzle and must be put back together again and again, resonant themes, a director (presumably) not beholden to anyone or anything but their vision, stylish and sexy, actors firing on all cylinders, shocks and twists, flashbacks, wisdom revealed, a culture different from my own, music that transforms mood, compelling characters different from myself, people revealed from different angles, an enthralling story, visions that might be real or imaginary, and more.

Even though director Mascha Schilinski was attending to a sick baby in Germany and not able to attend the North American premiere screening of her film at the Toronto International Film Festival, I stayed as the credits rolled, the intriguing story and scenes turning over in my mind. Sound of Falling won the jury prize at Cannes. The film utilizes natural light and ambient sound, but also mesmerizing songs such as "Stranger" by Anna Von Hausswolff.

"You always see things from the outside, but never yourself."

Thai people believe that the lives and spirits of others can be absorbed and connected in the landscape. This beautiful, moving, and fascinating film is a testament to this.

Cass falls in love. Hard. Her lover lifts her up in every aspect of her life, and his unexpected death sinks Cass in a deep downward spiral. With the passing of time Cass is the unsmiling sad sack of her former self. This is until she enters a cartography shop in London to discover a magical map of the heart and someone standing nearby to help decipher it. Soon Cass is charting and rediscovering the significant places and moments in her life, combining past, present, and future, and opening her heart to wonders and love again.

"The greatest loss is not death, but what dies within us while we live."

This playful, romantic, and whimsical film encourages us to keep our hearts open and our dreams alive. Writer-director Yaniv Raz appeared at this world premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival with some of the actors. He said that the film was originally set in San Francisco, but moved to London ultimately. While the film lacks chemistry and is a little cheesy and unrealistic, even allowing room for exaggeration, I really enjoyed the story and theme of keeping your heart open to wonder, mystery, and love.

Insights about the world's oldest profession and the underground of humanity are provocatively revealed in this lively and intriguing documentary about the experiences of Andrea Werhun as an escort and exotic dancer in Toronto. Andrea plays the role of herself, co-writes, and narrates the film. Modern Wh0re aims to move the narratives about sex work beyond the typical "victims and villians" dynamic and bring about a new archetype where the workers are loved by their community and tell their own stories.

The film removes the stigma of shame and erases misconceptions and assumptions that society associates with the sex industry and female pleasure. In doing so it doesn't shy away from the dark side of sex work (lack of trust and protection, and possessive and disrespectful clients, and more). Conversations that Andrea has with her real-life mom and ex-boyfriend, are cathartic, deep, and emotional. Walls are broken down.

It is invigorating in the film that the truth is revealed instead of being ignored and hidden, and that sex-workers are celebrated instead of being shamed. "Shame," says Andrea "is the opposite of truth." Andrea was present at this world-premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival.

In sex work both parties feel free to be themselves, knowledge is power, the money is better than minimum wage, humor is essential form of survival, and the keys to being successful include basic things like listening, kindness and respect.

When a cult leader in a rural area is accused of sexual abuse the case is assigned to Roohi, a rookie investigator from the big city of Delhi. With a father who is a famous and well-respected prosecutor, and power and justice aligned on her side, Roohi moves in with conviction, trust, confidence, and faith in the system. It all comes crashing down. Roohi is swept up in corruption, competing agendas, infrastructure built to bury crimes, and a more ruthless and violent monster than she realized. Roohi must look within herself, make extreme sacrifices, and step down from her privileged position in order to make any headway. It may not be worth the price she pays.

"I was so blind."

Bayaan, which means "testimony" in Hindi, is based on real events and people. Pursuing justice often takes good people into deeper danger. Those who threaten the established order often end up missing, banned, isolated, outcasts, tortured, and "suicides."

Bayaan is not a typical film from India. It is enthralling, enlightening, and shocking. It is about what it takes and what it costs to speak up for justice.

At this world premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival the director said that many such people as this cult leader exist in the world. "Even when convicted of crimes they still come out on parole. It is the reality of the world. Once these people have power they use it to control people and gain more power." The film is wisely not centered on the main perpetrator though. It is focused on the community and those who face an extremely difficult choice of standing up.

Huma Qureshi (Roohi) attended the screening too and answered questions afterward. Her performance was moving and authentic. Huma said that it is "not so simple to speak up. Yes we have problems. We also have solutions. They have to come from within." She urged the audience to better understand witnesses and victims to crimes, and what pressures are on them. It does take a lot to speak up. There is a little line you cross, and your worth in the eyes of others often becomes greatly diminished.

Courage to those who speak up on behalf of truth and justice.

Sirât is "path" in Arabic. It is the way between heaven and hell.

Sandstorms in the desert wilderness of Morocco, ravers dancing to hypnotic and heavy base rhythms, the sudden appearance of soldiers, and a father - Luis - desperately searching for his missing daughter. Since his daughter was last seen at a rave, Luis follows the meandering lead of the ravers and flees with them into the desert to escape from the soldiers. In crossing mountains, swollen rivers, and minefields, there are more questions than answers for Luis. Like a broken speaker that in its idiosyncrasies produces the best sound, Luis is wounded, lost, blind, and broken, and yet running on all cylinders.

"You are never so near life as when you are near death."

After my divorce I felt this way, like Luis. In the darkness we find ourselves and ways to go on, the gem deep within our hearts.

In a similar way life is asking questions of Luis. He may need to lose himself to be connected to life again. Life may not give Luis what he is looking for, but what he needs.

I'm so happy that director Oliver Laxe appeared at the Toronto International Film Festival screening I attended. He is a fascinating speaker and artist. "This film obliges you to look inside and it can be tough," he said. "Fillm allows us to be at other levels of perception, as do uninhabited places."

Sirât is visceral, raw, and introspective. The heavy and surprising events of the film rock the worlds of the characters as much as the base-heavy music. Non-professional actors were utilized alongside of veteran actor Sergi López (Luis). While career actors are "in control, and have a range of tools that they use," said Laxe, the non-professionals are "pure." Each has advantages.

I enjoyed meditating on the meanings and themes of Sirat and appreciate Laxe for explaining what he meant with the film. Sirat explores loss, grief, and violence, and how such things often lead to intensity and clarity. Like Luis we are often so deep in pain that we risk missing what is right in front of us.

"Yeah, you're right, I talk too much. I also listen too much. I could be a cold-hearted cynic like you, but I don't like to hurt people's feelings. Well, you think what you want about me; I'm not changing. I like me."

This sweet, vulnerable, generous, genuine good guy who is John Candy, is a child himself who wants to make everyone happy. He seems to have truly experienced the lives and emotions of the humble characters he played in films and television. He gives to everyone, struggles to find the right path, and is at his best when engaging others. In life and on-screen Candy overflows with humor, heart, humanity, humbleness, and authenticity. This inspiring documentary makes that clear while utilizing archival materials, heartfelt testimonies from other story tellers, and interviews with those who knew Candy well including Dan Aykroyd, Steve Martin, Tom Hanks, Martin Short, Candy's family members, and more.

"I don't think I want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer, or a silly-heart. And I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously."

Ryan Reynolds (one of the producers), Candy's son, daughter, and wife, and even Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney were at this world premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. Carney offered keen and apt insight into the characters that Candy played, saying that in many of his roles Candy was pushed too far, but always stood up for himself and others in the end. "Don't push a Canadian too far," Carney said, referring both to Candy and to Canadians in interactions their southern neighbor. Director Colin Hanks, Ryan Reynolds, and Jennifer and Chris (Candy's daughter and son) all answered questions after the screening. Each agrees with me that Planes, Trains and Automobiles is Candy's best role.

Daring, unconventional filmmaking from Potsy Ponciroli to create an action film without words. It works because it is viscerally pleasing to focus on the stylish scenes, the pulse-quickening action sequences, and reading the faces and movements of the characters. The thrills go straight to the heart.

A Vietnam veteran in 1970s Detroit, John, is just off probation when a chance meeting with Sophia alters his life in more ways than one. The two fall in love, but with a hitch. Sophia's former boyfriend wants her back. Her ex is a mobster with police connections who frames John and returns him to prison. There John is taunted and beaten daily by the mobster's minions. Together with his wartime friends John plots a prison break, vengeance, and a route back to Sophia's arms.

There is hardly any dialogue to this violent, stylized, unique, and visceral revenge story. The film unfolds like a music video. Alan Ritchson (John), Shailene Woodley (Sophia), and Ben Foster (mobster) are up to the task. Fight scenes get the adrenaline pumping. While Detroit is the setting for Motor City, it is actually filmed in New Jersey. I watched the world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.

"None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe themselves free."

Laszlo, an architect, flees Hungary in the wake of World War II and attempts to rebuild his life in America. Pain as well as pleasure are on the horizon as he realigns his work, love, and soul in a new country.

The alluring images, immersive sound, actors in top form, enticing themes, and witty dialogue of The Brutalist combine to dazzle the senses (the film won Oscars for the images, sound, and acting of Adrien Brody). It kept me guessing and enthralled throughout its over three-hour length with scenes descending into the ethereal marble quarries of Carrara, Italy, ambient sounds of people talking and glasses clinking, seductive piano music, crackling neon lights of New York, close-ups of intriguing faces, haunting heroin dens, and more.

Some of the most interesting aspects of The Brutalist include its deep conversations and themes. Certain events really shape our lives, for example. Our lives are like two-hour films in how they go from one highlight to another over the course of existence. Certain events have big impacts upon our characters.

Laszlo reacts passively (at least outwardly) to some major provocations. In this I recognize that he, like me, prefers to prove his worth and ideals, rather than fight with someone about them. Laszlo is challenged in this. "If you resent your persecution," taunts his boss "then why do you make yourself an easy target." While Laszlo prefers to prove his worth, he should be more careful about who is the judge.

Laszlo's wife and love, Erzsébet, is worthy of this trust. "We have a new life and language, and can start again," she says. Even from far away Erzsébet knows everything that happened to him and all he's done.

In life, work, and love there are bound to be upheavals, yet we endure the erosion of our true selves by the kind of people, practices, and places we associate ourselves with.

For a country that once prided itself in freedom, we are increasingly failing in this regard.

"You don't look for trouble, but trouble finds you."

An abused girl, Rita, finds herself in a worse situation at an institution for abandoned and orphaned children. Rita turns to stories, imagination, and other girls to face the darkness around her and keep hope alive in her heart. Rita's story evolves like a fairy tale; innocents locked up in a castle, the forest surrounding them, song, ogres, princesses, stars, fairies, animals, angels, and all of them alive with magic. To find their happy ending the girls need to heal their hearts, spread their wings, and fly.

This beautiful and heart-breaking film mixes fantasy and reality (a tragedy that occurred in 2017 at the Virgen de la Asunción children's home). Bustamante, as is his talent, infuses the story with ethereal visions and fantastical beings. Along the way he reveals that the true monsters in this situation are not just the people who allow things like this to happen, but the cruel indifference of society to the plights of these innocents. The girls need our attention, empathy, and kindness, but instead society focuses on other stories involving entertainment, hate, and fear.

"In honor of all the fantastic beings," says Bustamante "that inhabit an adult world that turns its back on them."

A perfectly speckled egg from Valentina the chicken is the ultimate quest for a trio off scrappy, sharp-tongued kids on dirt bikes in the western mountain country. In a roundabout way the egg is the key to a password-protected video game they want to play. The quest for the egg gets more challenging and myriad complications arise as the children encounter enchanted beings intent upon keeping the egg for themselves. Yet the deeper the kids get into trouble, the more their determination grows to succeed.

Fairy tale meets paint ball in this charming, unique, funny, and refreshing old school family thriller. It seems Wes Anderson, Terry Gilliam, Walt Disney, and Kevin Smith put their heads together with the local Renaissance Festival staff, to craft this imaginative and surprisingly good story. The combined snarky and adorable child actors register some impressive performances as they seem to genuinely enjoy their character roles and have fun with the script. It isn't just an assignment or paycheck for them. Trusting in the cast sure paid off in this debut film for Weston Razooli.

"I think she is cursed. (I think she is blessed.) Maybe she's both."

While there are some issues with the pacing, acting, and other things, Riddle of Fire takes me back to another time and place when films were not so cheesy, graphics-heavy, and generally lacking in soul and spark. What would I do without independent and quirky films such as this? In viewing them, including Riddle of Fire, my heart becomes full and rich.

A devious yet frequently overlooked Mexico City defense attorney, Rita, attracts the attention of Manitas, a notorious drug lord and criminal mastermind. Manitas has an interesting request and one that Rita entertains at her peril. For staging his murder, secretly obtaining the perfect surgeon, and providing for his family, Manitas will make Rita rich. The trick is that he will be reborn as she; Emilia. Things go well for a time, but the past begins to creep back. Emilia misses her kids and wife, and doesn't like the new influences on their lives. Emilia struggles to live half in one life, and half in another.

This combined narco-thriller, musical, romance, comedy, character-driven social piece, and gender affirmation drama is mind-blowing. The film bumps around to different and interesting locations around the world too. While the film has many plot twists, director Jacques Audiard maintains firm control of the narrative. I really admire and appreciate his work. It is amazing that a film can be so thrilling and funny, and yet manage to get in a plug about the 100,000 plus people who have disappeared in Mexico due to drug violence, but Audiard does it.

True to the film's multi-faceted and surprising nature, the actors won a combined award at the Cannes film festival for their roles (Zoe Saldaña, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, and Karla Sofía Gascón).

The film is intriguing and fascinating because it never loses sight of the human nature component. Emilia's feelings are natural for what someone in her shoes might ask and wonder about. For example, was she really in love and did people love her? Further, I am enthralled with the French style, particularly its rawness. No one pulls any punches, and no censors are active with their censoring. Pride, truth, forgiveness, love, and more, are all on full display.

A view of Dhaka from high above the city streets, a bowl of spiced Kachchi, music, fresh air, and walking in a park; such little things bring so much happiness and pleasure. Saba provides them to her paraplegic mother, Shirin, as often as possible, but it is frustrating to not have much of a life of her own. When Shirin's health deteriorates, Saba is forced to find a job and beg a relative for money and favors. She has some success in this, and yet can't seem to keep up with Shirin's worsening condition. Saba faces a choice, follow the money or her heart.

"What do you wish for most in life?!"

This gripping character study provides a fascinating glimpse of the struggle to live with dignity in a faraway, bewildering city, yet a situation that is familiar to everyone. "If you want to send a message," said director Maksud Hossain "go to Western Union." He provides beguiling characters instead. Hossain was talkative at this world premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival even though he had to deal with a loud and unruly member of the audience. The man claimed to be Hossain's "biggest fan," but in reality, he certainly wasn't.

Actor Mehazabien Chowdhury (Saba) was sitting right next to me in the front row throughout the screening and I didn't even notice until she jumped up to appear with Hossain for the question-and-answer session at the end. In my defense, she sat down in the darkness and after the film began. Mehazabien is a star of TV dramas, took on an uncharacteristic role in this film, and appreciated the chance to be someone more authentic and real.

The film has pleasing depth; television sets in the background speak of the first metro trains coming to Dhaka after the project was started 17 years ago, bullying and corrupt police officers provide a snapshot of living in Bangladesh (no consuming alcohol or kissing in public, yikes!), and more. Saba is a compelling film about letting go and living with grace and an open heart. How I love to travel to a distant corner of the world through such stories and art.

Haki, a young man with a Maori mother and an English soldier father, is not sure if he is running from something or to something. He is caught up in two wars at the same time; the 1864 battle of Orakau between the Maori and ten times as many English soldiers, and a conflict in his heart between two cultures. The upcoming fight leads Haki and his relatives on both sides of the trenches, to the dawn of a new era.

"Stop lying, or lie better."

With ethereal forest scenery, mesmerizing sounds of women singing, elaborate costumes, compelling characters, intriguing dances, depth, and intense fighting spectacles, Struggle Without End is enthralling. No one trash talks and postures like the Maori on the eve of battle. "Understand our past," said one of the Maori film producers at this North American premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival "and you can look at us differently."

"There is a big shift happening. We are telling our own stories."

Struggle Without End is told from a Maori perspective, which is refreshing. I enjoy supporting independent, indigenous filmmakers in part because of this fascinating and enlightening shift in perspective. Such a shift is usually not seen in mainstream films. For instance, the leadership model is different. Maori leaders, good and bad, still ask permission from their people to move in any given direction.

In the future with advertisements projected on clouds, rampant prejudice towards anyone outside the mainstream, and surveillance technology monitoring actions and words, students fight back with pranks and sit-ins.

Unfortunately, the scope, vision, range, and dialogue of Happyend is rather limited. I enjoyed some of the pranks, the friendships, and the characters watching strangers from a distance and imagining conversations that they might be having with each other. However, beyond such things, there isn't much going on. It is an intriguing theme of loyal friends vowing to face the future together, but there needs to be more depth.

As Ray and Moth are on the cusp of retirement, they lose their home and savings in one unlucky swoop. To make things worse Moth is diagnosed with a rare and terminal neurodegenerative disease. In a "glory before death" type of decision, the distraught couple begins a journey on the Salt Path. The 630-mile trail runs along the English coast from Dorset to Somerset. Through good and bad moments including rainstorms, rude people, snoring, physical exhaustion, limping, humor, beautiful scenery, unexpectedly profound moments of insight, deep realizations about each other, and natural wonders, Moth and Ray discover a new definition of "home."

I believe deeply in the healing power of nature for body, heart, mind, and soul. When I go into the natural world, whether in joy or pain, I exit renewed and hopeful. All my life this has been true. This inspiring true story backs up this cherished belief. Along the Salt Path the wonders of nature are experienced in the bird songs, ocean swells, curious seals, sunsets, resplendent forests, and more.

The Salt Path is based on a 2018 memoir of the same name. Director Marianne Elliott relies less on the words of the book, and more on the actual experience of the trail. At this world premiere screening of the film at the Toronto International Film Festival, Elliott said it was challenging to film on location, but the results were worth the cost. Agreed, for the trail is stunningly serene and it speaks for itself.

In the mist, firelight, and shadows a mother, Inés, fails to recognize the voice of her own son Basilio. It is strange, dark, and different than the boy she once knew. It is Basilio's ghost, returning home and searching for his mother.

"Children don't survive here. Only soldiers do."

The pair begin a journey. It is inside their memories. The flute-like song of a thrush, soldiers going house by house and killing who they find, a flowing river, a mother calling to her boy, peculiar plants like a cross between Joshua trees and palms, piles of clothes and belongings of the dead, eerie sounds of forest insects, a little girl alone and crying, and tree branches rustling in the wind.

"How did you manage to give birth to such a monster?"

Dark and beautiful, Horizonte is one of the best films I have seen in a long time. This film has it all; captivating sound, depth that I am still trying to wrap my head around, mesmerizing cinematography, fantastic stories, intriguing plot and dialogue, surreal music and ambient sound, memorable acting, unexpected twists, resplendent flashbacks still reverberating in my mind, and authentic character journeys that are acutely heartrending. Even the special effects are not just flashy, but purposeful and stunning works of art. I was entranced by a house that rises from the land, ghostly visions, and dream-like, shifting landscapes.

"Stop thinking about what you lost and start thinking about what you can do for others."

Essential to Horizonte is a resonant message about healing and discovering the truth about a fifty-year war. It isn't just the fitful souls of Ines and Basilio seeking redemption. The entire country of Colombia is searching too. Each person, each place, is different and all we can do is give what we can.

"Hay futuro si hay verdad." (there is a future if there is truth)

• Colombian Truth Commission, final report.

Children with names written on their arms or legs to identify them in injury or death, digging in rubble for loved ones while calling out their names, sleeping on concrete, packed bags ready for the escape, buzzing sound of military drones overhead like ceaseless industrial drills, burning door frames for cooking, rushing in and out and back again, flashbacks to when your love is alive, lines for the toilet, water, and food in the camp, bodies in bags, and the future slipping through your hands.

22 short films bearing witness to the mass killing, starvation, sickness, trauma, sorrow, suffering, and bombing of the people of Gaza, but also testimonies to the struggle to survive and doing so with dignity and hope. The films are in various styles including documentary, hybrid, drama, animation, essay, and experimental art therapy.

"I believe in cinema and that it can bring about change," said Rashid Masharawi, one of the primary drivers behind the film. He was present at this North American premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. "We tell our own stories here, from the inside, how people are dealing with daily life, and with real emotion." There was a three-minute pause in the middle of the film and an active listener available to help us process the raw, heart wrenching images and testimony. "We are all on the same boat," said Masharawi "trying to do our best."

Sunlight on the sea, beckoning dreams, dancing, kites in the sky, encouraging stories, little joys like tea, music, drawing, singing of love and hope, laughter, awakenings, and wishes for happy and beautiful lives.

The sacred fig is also the strangler fig. It nuzzles its host even as it strangles them to death. The criminal is not the one you expect.

Iman is climbing the ladder in Iran's judicial system. High minded, ambitious, and hard-working, he strives to earn the approval of his superiors and is promoted. Expecting adulation, Iman encounters rebellion instead. Where he presumes love in his workplace, country, wife and daughters, he finds insurgence. If Iman looks inside himself, he might find a way to set things right.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig won two prizes at the Cannes film festival and succeeds because of its authenticity, depth, capable actors, and riveting story. Director Mohammad Rasoulof spent time in prison for the crime of practicing his art of filmmaking. Rasoulof appeared via video at this Toronto International Film Festival screening to tell the story of one of his interrogators who felt shame at his actions and didn't know in what direction to turn. He claimed to be getting grief from his family. This interrogator is the model for the character of Iman.

This raw and unsettling film features actual footage from the violent 2022 uprising in Iran over the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini, who was taken into custody for allegedly wearing her hijab improperly. The film reminds us to take a close look at our workplace, country, friends, family, and selves in order not to become a host for any strangler figs, no matter how sacred they claim to be.

"Protect us golden bright earth."

Daava and Zaya, a young couple with four children, return to the land and ways they once knew. A clear view to the distant horizon, sleeping in the great silence beneath the stars, talking to each other as night falls, playing the flute and singing to their herd of sheep, and feeling happiness overflow them while standing in the swirling snow. These are the things they live for.

Yet the land is desolate and much dryer than before. Climate change is real. A severe storm forces them back to the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar and the city life they tried to leave behind.

"I could even smell you, and hear your voice," says Daava "it was beautiful." He longs for the horse he had to sell, and to return to the landscape he loves.

A hybrid documentary and fictional story, the film allows us to discover Mongolia through the experiences of one family. "You feel like you might be there, get into the rhythm of the land, slow down, and feel it inside you," said director Gabrielle Brady at this Toronto International Film Festival screening. She worked with Daava and Zaya on their own terms to create something authentic and true to their character.

In the film Daava tells a Mongolian legend where lost travelers stumble upon a mirage. A woman serves them tea. Later everyone dies except the one who didn't drink the tea. This is the one who never gave up on their dream and refused to drink what was false.

Along a deserted beach in the wind and waves a father and son, Mamargade and Cigaal, enjoy a little bit of happiness in nature. Such treasured moments are few and far between the numerous jobs, drone strikes bringing death from above, check points, and job payments that take months to materialize, if they ever materialize. At their simple and tiny cinder block and corrugated steel home the pair lives with Mamargade's sister Araweelo.

Cigaal dreams of light. Araweelo dreams of making and selling her own clothing. Being an unmarried woman she cannot get a loan, so Araweelo hatches a plan to get around the regulation. The risks are immense.

"My whole life I try to make things better," says Mamargade "but I keep making mistakes." When misfortune eclipses virtually every aspect of daily life, it is impossible to avoid the "mistakes." Yet the humble and hard-working trio never stops trying and hoping for luck, her own business, time at the beach, funding for school, and better days.

The Village Next to Paradise first dropped at Cannes. "It is the first film shot on location in Somalia," said director Mo Harawe who attended this North American premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. Harawe engaged with the community of Paradise to make the film and employed non-professional actors. The investment in Somalia paid off in terms of the film's authenticity. The ambient sound of music on the radio, traffic, waves, and wind, contributed to the realistic nature as well. "Wind is a character," said Harawe "so the human characters are not ever alone." Culture is a character too, and I enjoyed the immersion in Somali songs, stories, and landscape.

"If you are in pain, it is only temporary" said the director via a video prior to the start of the film screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. If this was true, then the film would have been over in a minute or two.

"The greatest lie we tell ourselves is that things will get better when we grow up."

This theme seemed enticing, and it helped lead me to see this film. Also the comparison to a Stephen Chow film (whose films I love). However, the film didn't follow the premise or compare to Chow. It didn't follow any premise except trying to look cool. No depth, and no purpose. And really, falling into a chemical spill gives the characters the ability to time travel?! I don't mind giving a story line the benefit of the doubt, but this isn't brilliant or creative, it's just dumb.

"There are two kinds of untouchables; those you don't want to touch, and those who can't be touched."

When a police officer is killed, his wife - Santosh - is trained to take his place. It is merely a ceremonial act in a police station in rural Northern India that is overwhelmingly male and traditional. Then a girl is raped, tortured, and her body dumped in a public square. The brazen crime isn't even investigated. Since the girl is from a poor family who can't read, they are ignored. It is then that something inside Santosh is triggered. Her task seems far from impossible, and yet public pressure builds and doors open that she never expected.

"The girl wore jeans and baited him."

The underground of India is revealed in this tense, observant, heart twisting, and powerful film. There is a glimpse of the justice system that prioritizes convictions by any means and ignores the real victims and perps. The film first surfaced at Cannes, and I saw it with director Sandhya Suri at the Toronto International Film Festival. It is all very moving. The film's spectacular imagery stays with me; the earrings of the dead girl, her face in the mirror, a lovely couple together, a girl selling biscuits, and a passing train.

Mother crocodiles protect their young by putting them in their jaws, the same place they devour their prey.

Dark water boils and flashes with light as frenzied reptiles jostle with each other for chickens thrown at them by Johan and his mom. At their sparsely attended crocodile amusement park the pair are the sole proprietors, workers, and - during long stretches of night - audience. Spending long hours of isolation together mother and son work like a well-oiled machine. As is common for Indonesian young adults, they even sleep side by side. This is until a pretty, young woman from the local karaoke bar shows up at the park entrance looking for Johan. Mom freaks out. There is a rumor that she fed her cheating husband to the crocs and as her son spends increasingly more time with his girlfriend, one of the two seems destined for Mom's teeth, either to protect her son, or devour him.

"You're good at this game" says mother to son, "but not at lying."

My favorite author, Nathaniel Hawthorne, would love this film; slow burning, loaded with emotional complexities, at the same time tender and terrifying, and fantasies merging with reality. First time director Tumpal Tampubolon and his leads were present at this world premiere screening at the Toronto International Film Festival. The actors agreed that Tampubolon sought collaborators in them, not servants. This is heartening to hear, and it yielded interesting results in the film. The actors and director often discussed how to make scenes more believable together.

"I don't want to spend my life alone," Johan tells his mom. And she responds, "but you have me!"

"They devour everything they touch, that type."

On the border between Colombia and Venezuela gasoline is worth fifty times more on one side than it is on the other. This creates a powerful incentive to go against the grain. Gasoline smugglers (pimpineros) jostle for profits with corrupt cops and soldiers, insatiable gangs, the desolate landscape, and unreliable machines. Three brothers working independently as pimpineros find themselves in a downward spiral when one of them goes into debt with an unsavory rival who smuggles not just oil but humans as well.

Purity must die before anyone has a chance of getting free in this tense thriller about corruption, betrayal, and dark secrets. There is a lot of potential here and many exhilarating moments, such as a scene where a woman is dancing with her lover in a fantasy, but things don't gel just right. The film needs just a little extra umph in places. Still, I had a great time watching this.

Director Andrés Baiz, present at this Toronto International Film Festival screening, said he once asked a group of kids about choosing superpowers. They talked about teleporting from one place to another, being invisible, or going back in time. Baiz realized that cinema gives audiences all three powers at once. How true. Pimpinero: Blood and Oil takes us back ten years to the border of Columbia and Venezuela where smugglers and their goods disappear in the darkness.