Author: Mark Goodyear

Humanity is at its best when we raise each other up and fight for a greater good. That is the ultimate virtue of being human: our capability to work together. Humanity is at its worst when we force each other to self-destruct and tear each other down. The ultimate failing of human existence is that it always seems like the latter happens far more often out of the two. Mossville, Louisiana is an entire community that was made subject to humanity tearing itself apart, and there was nothing they could do but try to run.

“Mossville: When Great Trees Fall”, tells their story. It’s a bleak tale, right from the outset we see a town void of hope, and how could they have any? Mossville was already a fenceline community, but SASOL (South African Synthetic Oil Limited) are buying up land left and right to build their industrial plants right on the land where freed slaves settled in the late 1800s. So many memories exist on this land, so many lives began and ended all in this small settlement. Now it’s all disappearing in the blink of an eye.

At its peak, Mossville had 8000 people living within its boundaries, when we get there that number is dramatically smaller. The story is told primarily from the perspective of one man, Stacey Ryan. Stacey is a mechanic who was born and raised in Mossville, like his father and grandfather before him. He loves his town, so much so that when everyone else was bought out around him, he said no and stayed right in the middle of the construction zone alone in his mobile home. Stacey’s family succumbed to multiple bouts of cancer, including both of his parents. The likelihood that this was brought on by spoiled drinking water and constant emissions near their house is high. It is for them he stays and fights the impossible fight.

Stacey’s story is the incarnation of the modern-day reality of the USA; there is so little empathy, and so little unity, that when people like him fall through the cracks, no one is there to help them back up. Director, editor and cinematographer on this project, Alexander Glustrom, captures the sheer tragedy of Mossville with a sombre but utterly captivating style and does its residents more justice than those in power ever did. The desolate imagery of modern-day Mossville hurts to look at. Smothering the barren dirt and cut down trees is the fact that the very souls of people were torn down and replaced with mechanical diggers and the constant plodding of trucks. With how sensitively Glustrom approaches this, he proves he has all the potential to be a cinematic master of documentaries, and if he continues to tell these stories, he will be.

The score by Carlos José Alvarez is mesmerising and heartbreaking. Mossville dies before our eyes to such melancholy music that even I, an Australian on the other side of the world, felt regret for not being able to help these people who didn’t deserve what was happening to them. And that’s precisely how we should all feel, because it isn’t just happening in the USA, it is happening worldwide, right now. Briefly, the film takes us to South Africa where SASOL started. Here, amid smog, we bear witness to the atrocities that have seen black communities settled downwind of the emissions from the world’s largest producer of CO2, Secunda. It is cruel and inhumane, and there is next to nothing they or anyone can do about it.

“Mossville: When Great Trees Fall” – Opening Sequence from Fire River Films on Vimeo.

I’d love to proclaim that the ending hits a happy note, but it doesn’t, to say otherwise would be a lie. I won’t say how it ends though, see for yourself. This documentary is nothing short of an essential human experience for anyone looking to make a difference in the world. And to my knowledge, this film has not had nearly enough eyes upon it so far this year, I genuinely hope that changes, for Stacey especially, he deserves people to know his story.

Mossville captures the devastation of the destruction of a community with grace and empathy and has a message that will reverberate across generations. Your heart may break as you watch, but at least the memories of the people who once lived there won’t be forgotten.

Not Quite Adults (Tampoco Tan Grandes) opens with our lead Lola (Paula Reca) attempting to steal sunglasses from a convenience store. The film never explains why Lola does this, she does make another attempt later in on, and it’s not explained then either.

In fact, it’s a plot point that really amounts to nothing at all. The only reason I mention it is because it is the perfect representation of everything that is wrong with this film. So much happens to so little effect in so little time.

The plot is nothing new. Within the rom-com/dramedy structure, we follow Lola and her ex-boyfriend Teo (Andres Ciavaglia) on a road trip from Buenos Aires 400km south to Mar Del Plata. They embark on this road trip to spread Lola’s fathers’ ashes on the land he granted her in his will. Along with them are Teo’s sister Rita (María Canale) and her father’s partner Natalio (Miguel Ángel Solá), whom she never met while her dad was still alive. Altogether this makes for a story that from the get-go had no plans of being anything but completely predictable and generic.

And that’s exactly what it is. At every turn, the script opts for the most obvious solutions to the most overdone of problems. In doing this, all Not Quite Adults achieves is managing to be entirely unimpactful and forgettable. Which is unfortunate because the humour is there, one or two genuinely funny moments do occur where things really could have expanded, but nothing comes of it. It’s impossible to class this film as a missed opportunity, but it certainly could have been more entertaining than it ended up being.

However, it is the dramatic aspects that are Not Quite Adults’ most significant failure — none of them land how director Federico Sosa intended. Every time the narrative drifts to a more serious moment, which is fairly frequently, it only amounts to a close up of someone being sad for a few seconds. It feels like every serious scene is truncated and shallow as if they are there only because they had to be.

Which begs the question, if the film wasn’t going to take the drama seriously, why does it make up half of the film? Each of the four characters we follow has something going wrong in their lives around them, and each of them has one or more scenes where they are confronted by it. Rita’s arc is by far the worst. Her issues don’t even get resolved despite being the most pressing. Instead, the film uses her as a minor catalyst to get the main couple to get back together.

All this imbalance comes down to Sosa. He never manages to find any balance between the comedy or the drama. In the process, he only managed to make both aspects of the film fall flat and the entertainment value with it. The cast was game to make something of this, they manage to spark some chemistry every now and then, but it just isn’t enough for how weak and uneven their characters are. Overall it seems to lack passion, and I take no pleasure in saying that, but when you watch something this run of the mill that still doesn’t function as a film, what else is there to say?

Not Quite Adults tosses mud at the wall to see what sticks and misses the wall. With hollow characters and a generic plot, this film is not quite good enough for 2019.

Label Me: BRWC Raindance Review.

Label Me is an enigma of a film when it comes to runtime. Running for only 1 hour, the film is not long enough to be a feature yet not short enough to be a short. It plays like an incredibly detailed snapshot of repressed sexuality in a modern and timely setting — a raw and impactful snapshot, but one lacking enough depth to be anything more than that.

Syrian refugee Waseem (Renato Schuch) lives in a shelter in Germany selling himself sexually to any man who will pay. Lars (Nikolaus Benda) is a wealthy German who decides to do just that and hires Waseem only to be confronted by his rules that he seemingly implements to remain confident in his heterosexuality. Despite an apparent hostility between the two, they clearly share a connection that they struggle to reconcile with. From there, they emotionally wrestle with one another, trying to find the courage to say how they feel.

Writer/director Kai Kreuser has done some beautiful work here. The way he manages never to make it feel as complicated as it could have been being his most significant achievement. Waseem, in particular, is a very complex character. He is confronted with his sexuality constantly throughout but fights it at every turn. The men he lives with in his refugee shelter cause him no end of grief, and yet he still resists Lars, a man more than capable of helping him. All of this manages to work, and that is thanks in large part to Kreuser’s sharp script. Creating fully realised characters was essential if Label Me were to work on any level and fortunately he has pulled that off.

Cinematographer Malte Hafner has also done a terrific job controlling the camera. He allows the actors to evoke so much emotion between one another and the audience. He makes sure they are the centre of everything that happens so as to capture when they are overjoyed or distraught vividly. The final shot is one of my favourite of the year and sparks what I hope is the beginning of a prolific partnership between him and his director.

However, as great as their director and cinematographer was Label Me is all about Schuch and Benda who both deliver immersive and dedicated performances. They convincingly portray men who want to be together but always find themselves apart. The impossible chemistry they share generates from their eyes and how they look at each other. For a few brief moments, they find themselves locked in silence, constantly thinking but not talking; these moments are engrossing and take advantage of the genius casting decisions.

Now I have to mention where this film falls short. As audacious as Label Me is, it lacks depth and scope to convey a grand message about sexuality accurately. What Keruser achieves in the short runtime is impressive, but I can’t help but feel that even with just another half an hour this film would have had an exponential return. Telling the story in this manner meant it was confined only to the world of Waseem and Lars never stepping over the boundary to affirm that anyone other than just these two men feel this way.

“Label Me – Testdreh” Regie: Kai Kreuser, 2017 from Martin Bretschneider on Vimeo.

Every other gay man in the film is lifeless and primarily voiceless coming across as mindless sexual deviants with no feelings of their own. This is only compounded upon by the fact that the setting is a very real very troubling one involving a Syrian refugee far away from his war-torn home, which impacts so many more people than just Waseem. Label me is a mere character study in a setting with the potential to speak to the entire world.

Label Me’s bold audacity makes for an impactful viewing experience. Keruser seems a more than capable director and will be one to watch in the coming years. As for his stars, they are brilliant together and will hopefully find themselves with an abundance of eye-catching work to come.