MIFF Day Thirteen

by Rebecca Butterworth 08 August 2011 22:44 Filmink Festival Coverage

The stars on MIFF's thirteenth day were too Ben's - an American actor and an Aussie popstar.

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Here is a quiet film. That might sound like a nothing comment when made in relation to the contemplative, often silent common thread that envelops the international section of a film festival, but Here is even quieter still. Will Shepard (Ben Foster, The Messenger) is a modern form of cartographer, searching for truth in landscape as he attempts to pin satellite images to their corresponding places on the world. Shepard is working in Armenia, where he doesn't speak the language and doesn't try in a very American kind of way, when he meets Gadarine, played by Lubna Azabel (Paradise Now), an Armenian native whose talent has taken her across the world as a photographer, and brought her back to search for a different truth. The two travel together and form a bond.

The film is a strong mix of experimental visual sequences and simple traditional filmmaking. The themes of journey and truth are universal, whilst being completely unique. The film feels more like a novel than a movie, with the use of voiceover 'chapters' that could be the corresponding opening paragraphs of a book. And yet the film does not feel out of place, but restful.

Foster is truly good. The way he manages to show such a sea of tightly wound emotions beneath a flesh surface that gives nothing away, is beyond me, and makes his subtle breakdown believable to the point of scary (true enough to life to remind me of a particular ex-boyfriend) - and yet he remains likeable throughout. Azabel is similarly wonderful, never overplaying what could have been a tricky role.

Here was directed by Braden King, co-written by Melbournian Dani Valent, a writer for Lonely Planet and freelance contributor to The Age. It seems clear that Valent put a lot of herself in this film, because it could not have come from anywhere but life.

Ben Lee: Catch My Disease is the filmography of an Australian superstar of his own making (and pronouncement), and follows Lee through what seems like the most truthful account of life in the spotlight since... well, ever. Catch My Disease brings an end, to me at least, to the rumours of arrogance and self-absorption that caused Powderfinger to describe Lee by using the c word.

Director/filmmaker Amiel Courtin-Wilson (Bastardy) had a lot of access, here. Which, if you watch the film, isn't really that surprising? Ben Lee is not only open for business to the public, but actively seeks a relationship with his audience, and his fans, and the world, that greatly surpasses any usual desire for pop stars to be loved, but then to seek anonymity.

The film starts really well, using a lot of Super 8 footage (including what seems to be almost unlimited access to the family archives) and really picking up on the young Lee's desire to be known. Courtin-Wilson then moves to the early years in America, after the patronage by Sonic Youth and The Beastie Boys, interviewing a bevy of young actresses including Winona Ryder, Christina Ricci, Michelle Williams, and of course long time ex-girlfriend Claire Danes, all of whom seem utterly, utterly love-struck. This has the feel of a fictional movie in which actresses have been told to act natural - and yet it is not. It's quite surreal. The film ends (and it should have ended sooner) with Lee's supposed religious transformation in India.

The thing is, what I most took from Catch My Disease was not much of a transformation. That Lee seems obsessed with his fame - but without the arrogant bent everyone supposes. Lee is presented as knowing everything, and yet really very little, about himself, and continually searching for that truth. Lee seems to gloss over the fact that he is an extremely talented songwriter and musician, instead seeing it as merely his desire for success. This gets irritating, but it's nonetheless fascinating. One just hopes that his talent does not become collateral damage.

Amiel Courtin-Wilson has done Australian music fans a favour, here. And Powderfinger never had his soul, anyway.