Neruda
Frantz
Moonlight
Certain Women
Una
Layla M.
Elle
Brimstone
A Quiet Passion
Clash
Check out below the competition, special presentations and galas line-ups for the 60th BFI London Film Festival, which will open on October 5th with Amma Asante’s A United Kingdom.
The list includes Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight, François Ozon’s Frantz, Paul Verhoeven’s Elle, Martin Koolhoven’s Brimstone, Pablo Larraín’s Neruda, Kelly Reichardt’s Certain Women, and Makoto Shinkai’s Your Name, the first animated film has to appear in the festival’s Official Competition.
Official Competition
Brimstone, dir. Martin Koolhoven. With Guy Pearce, Dakota Fanning, Kit Harington
In the uncompromising terrains of the old American West, mute midwife Liz enjoys a humble existence with her young daughter, independently minded stepson and loyal, devoted husband. Seemingly content with her life, Liz’s eyes nonetheless betray a quiet sadness, suggesting a previous life fraught with pain and anguish. One day in church, her delicate peace is shattered when she hears the ominous, Dutch-tinged drawl of the town’s new preacher. Instantly recognising the man she had so desperately hoped to have escaped, Liz must prepare to protect both herself and her family from the the reverend’s merciless grasp.
Told in four distinct chapters, writer/director Martin Koolhoven’s extraordinary western is a ferociously rendered, richly-evocative tale of bloodshed and retribution driven by Dakota Fanning’s remarkable turn. Imbuing Liz with a quiet fragility and steely determination, Fanning’s tenacious frontierswoman instantly joins the ranks of cinema’s most compelling Western heroines. Memorable support is provided by a stellar cast including Kit Harington and Carice van Houten, while special mention must go to Guy Pearce – channeling Robert Mitchum in The Night of the Hunter – for his terrifying portrayal of Liz’s unrelenting nemesis. With a visual lyricism in striking contrast to the gruelling violence on screen, this deeply affecting tale of moral reckoning is often difficult to watch, but impossible to forget.
Certain Women, dir. Kelly Reichardt. With Laura Dern, Kristen Stewart, Michelle Williams
The LFF has long loved Kelly Reichardt (River of Grass, Old Joy and most recently, Night Moves). Certain Women reunites her with Michelle Williams (Wendy & Lucy and Meek’s Cutoff) for a story about the lives of three very different women in Livingstone, Montana, a town of only 7,000 residents. Laura Dern’s lawyer is conducting a surreptitious lunchtime affair with a married man while defending a disgruntled construction worker (Jared Harris) in a workplace accident suit. Williams is Gina, a woman of frustrated ambitions attempting to build a ‘perfect’ family with her husband and surly child, but struggling with her own slippery ethics as she tries to get things done in the sleepy town. And Native American actor Lily Gladstone rounds off the trio, playing lonely ranch hand Jamie, who enrols in a night school course and develops confusing feelings for supply teacher Beth (Kristen Stewart). It’s all-round stellar work from an impeccable cast, with striking discovery Gladstone particularly sublime as the near-silent figure struggling to articulate the nature of her interest in Beth. Drawing from Montana-native Maile Meloy’s short stories, Reichardt’s delicate, nuanced direction ensures that the minutest look or gesture gains epic significance. And the only moment in the film to employ scored music is so overwhelming it might just break your heart.
Clash, dir. Mohamed Diab. With Nelly Karim, Hany Adel, Tarek Abdel Aziz
Mohamed Diab confirms his status as Egypt’s foremost cultural commentator with Clash, a masterful depiction of a society torn apart by its differences. Where Diab’s previous 678 tackled female harassment in Egyptian society, Clash’s scope is even more ambitious: the future of the nation. Egypt has long been the centre of the film industry in the Arab world. Following the heady 18 days in 2011, which saw a people-led revolution overthrow the decades long rule of Hosni Mubarak, there have been no shortage of films attempting to capture the epochal events. Most have already dated, framed as they are in the white heat of the moment. Diab’s film possesses a more long-term perspective.
Set in 2013, after mass protests saw the ruling Muslim Brotherhood thrown out of power by the army, Clash unfolds almost entirely within the claustrophobic confines of a police van as rival demonstrators find themselves caught in impossibly stifling heat. From this simple set-up, Diab weaves a striking story of scale, ambition and pure cinematic verve, pulling off a remarkable feat; a road movie about confinement. The film’s surprisingly strong performance at the Egyptian box office is testament to its power to move and enthral, leaving audiences breathless with a magnificent denouement that artfully evokes the faultlines in the Arab world’s most populous nation.
Elle, dir. Paul Verhoeven. With Isabelle Huppert, Laurent Lafitte, Anne Consigny
French icon Isabelle Huppert – who can switch from scathing to playful with a liminal quiver of her upper lip – gives a staggering performance as Michèle Leblanc, the director of a video game company who is raped in her own parlour by a masked assailant. Giving no immediate sign of distress and taking what appears to be a deliberate pleasure in shrugging off the terrifying incident, she locks the door after her attacker and gets on with life. Michèle is a woman who mocks the idiocy of others and enjoys her own power, especially her capacity to disrupt. When her attacker insinuates himself into her psyche via a series of text messages, there is a whisper of fear, but she soon flicks it to ‘game on’.
American writer David Birke’s screenplay (translated back into French) is persistently ambiguous and ironic, avoiding the easy psychology and obvious motivations of the rape revenge fantasy for something far more textured and sophisticated in its treatment of desire and control. It is full testament to the collaboration between Verhoeven and Huppert that they expertly navigate amorality and sustain a permanent state of suspense, mischief and challenge.
Frantz, dir. François Ozon. With Pierre Niney, Paula Beer, Marie Gruber
The ever-prolific François Ozon makes a welcome return with this richly-evocative period piece, set in the aftermath of World War I. In a small German town, a young woman named Anna mourns the tragic death of her fiancé Frantz. Living with her departed lover’s parents, Anna keeps to herself, until one day she spies a mysterious man leaving flowers on Frantz’s grave. Discovering the man to be a close friend of her fiancé during his time in France, Anna finds solace in the outsider’s memories of her beloved. But as her sorrow slowly begins to lift, and the pair become increasingly attached, some striking truths emerge, forcing Anna to question her burgeoning feelings.
No two Ozon films are ever the same and this sweeping love story is a typically atypical work from the wonderfully unpredictable filmmaker. Shot predominantly in gorgeous black and white – the monochrome austerity of the film’s opening scenes feels curiously reminiscent of Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon (although this is as far as such similarities go) – it is a surprising contrast to the vibrant colours Ozon usually employs. But if Frantz marks a stylistic departure, fans can rest assured that the director’s signature touches (mischievous narrative twists, an affection for classical melodrama and playful sexual ambiguity) are all present and correct. The result is unmistakably, quintessentially Ozon.
Goldstone, dir. Ivan Sen. With Aaron Pedersen, Alex Russell, Jacki Weaver
Ivan Sen delivers another layered and engrossing slow-burn thriller, reprising both the distinctive, ‘outback noir’ style of Mystery Road (LFF 2013), as well as its central character – troubled Indigenous Australian detective Joe Swan (the broody, charismatic Aaron Pedersen). On the desolate road into the mining town of Goldstone, Joe is arrested for drunk-driving by fresh-faced local cop Josh (Alex Russell). Joe is on the trail of a disappeared girl, but Josh is mistrustful and reluctant to help him on the case, yielding to the considerable, pie-baking sway of the corrupt local Mayor, Maureen (the brilliant, butter-wouldn’t-melt Jacki Weaver). When Joe’s investigations lead him to Furnace Creek mine, Josh is faced with a moral choice – help Joe, or collude with Maureen and the mine’s slippery manager, Johnny (David Wenham).
Cogently employing the device of the law-enforcement two-hander to prise open the film’s nail-biting narrative, Sen establishes both blackfella and whitefella perspectives to illuminate the social, economic and environmental factors that continue to corrode Australian Indigenous ‘country’. Sen’s vision is cohesively realised through his own writing, cinematography, editing and composing; a true filmmaking all-rounder, his cinema is both searing in its eloquence and steadfastly entertaining. Goldstone’s exceptional cast includes David Gulpilil, Tom E. Lewis and Cheng Pei-pei.
Layla M., dir. Mijke de Jong. With Nora el Koussour, Ilias Addab
We first meet Dutch/Moroccan teenager Layla at a football match, cheering on her team and enraged by the ease with which racial slurs are thrown about on the pitch. Whilst her referee father shrugs them off, she struggles with the slights. Increasingly disillusioned by her own society’s latent discrimination and its indifference to violence in the Middle East, Layla begins to find a sense of community with people who share her concerns. Growing increasingly distant from her family, who are perplexed by the conservative views she embraces, Layla leaves home and marries Abdel, a member of her group. Clearly smitten, the innocence of their growing attraction highlights a youthful naivety. However, as restrictions on how they live their life multiply, Layla begins to question the choices she has made.
Newcomer Nora el Koussour delivers an electric performance as Layla, adroitly fusing the conflicting tensions of a bright, angry and passionate young woman. Director Mijke de Jong, whose work has often explored the vulnerability of youth – most notably in Berlinale winner Bluebird – packs a powerful but nuanced punch, unpicking the disillusionment that can trigger radicalisation amongst young people and the complex web of realities that it represents.
Moonlight, dir. Barry Jenkins. With Mahershala Ali, Naomie Harris, Trevante Rhodes
Miami. The 1980s. Chiron is a reticent child, different from the other kids at school. There’s something about the way he walks, the way he talks, that has others guessing before he does, in an environment where queerness is just not an option. Junkie Ma (a tightly-wound Naomie Harris) is no help in navigating these waters, so Chiron turns to local drug kingpin Juan (played with charismatic gravitas by Mahershala Ali), who offers the kind of leadership and emotional support that he so sorely needs. And Juan’s relationship with his girlfriend (Janelle Monáe in an auspicious onscreen debut) offers the blueprint for an equal relationship. Based on the play In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue by Tarell Alvin McCraney and journeying across three time periods, we witness key moments in the formation of Chiron’s masculinity and how in turn, these moments come to define his sexuality. Barry Jenkins’ debut feature Medicine For Melancholy (LFF2008) earned him many fans, including Steven Soderbergh and Brad Pitt, who is a producer here. Moonlight makes good on that film’s promise, delivering a restrained yet intoxicating story with genuine emotional power. It’s consistently surprising and brimming with formal invention, from camera movement to the richly evocative imagery. Grand in scope but intimate in execution, make Moonlight your discovery.
Neruda, dir. Pablo Larraín. With Luis Gnecco, Gael García Bernal, Mercedes Morán
For his sixth feature, Pablo Larraín turns to his compatriot, the Nobel Prize-winning poet and diplomat Pablo Neruda. Only this isn’t so much a biopic as a boldly inventive and visually thrilling contemplation of identity and branding. It details how Neruda’s public persona – as a romantic poet with a political conscience – was cemented in the late 1940s. Despite his vanity and snobbishness, Neruda (brilliantly played by Luis Gnecco) is a figure who inspires and animates, galvanising the ideals enshrined in his poetry. In 1948 as President González Videla (Larraín regular Alfredo Castro) begins to clamp down on communism in Chile, Neruda goes on the run with his wife Delia (Mercedes Morán). He is obsessively pursued by a detective, the wonderfully named Peluchonneau (Gael García Bernal), who is doggedly determined not to be a supporting player in the escalating drama. So begins a chase that comes to acquire epic proportions as the lauded poet, aided by ordinary Communist party members, attempts to stay one step ahead of the authorities.
Described by Larraín as an ‘anti bio’, Neruda is a dizzying cinematic adventure filmed with playful virtuosity. History, legend and fiction fuse to powerful effect, offering a beautifully performed, shadowy cat-and-mouse thriller, where the celebrated poet, a gloriously contradictory feature, forever eludes those trying to pin him down.
A Quiet Passion, dir. Terence Davies. With Cynthia Nixon, Jennifer Ehle, Duncan Duff
Emily Dickinson is a nonconformist who cannot smooth her own sharp edges. Whether as poet, daughter or woman of faith, she finds herself at odds with the diktats of religion and society. Retreating into the bosom of her Massachusetts family, relief comes in the form of a new neighbour, Vryling Buffam, who offers Emily an equal of the mind, as well as some excellent sassy badinage. But Dickinson’s longings for romance, and insecurities about her own attractiveness, are at odds with the amount of love she has to give. Featuring a finely curated selection of her poems in voiceover, A Quiet Passion details many facets of Dickinson’s character: her wit and linguistic command; an inescapable melancholy, and her poetry’s transcendent ability to connect with other people in ways she cannot.
Cynthia Nixon is superb in a role spanning Dickinson’s adult life, making vivid the notion that the parts of our personality that harden over time are rarely the ones we’d choose. As a biopic, its reach extends well beyond existing lovers of her poetry (although you’ll be challenged not to be a fan by the end) and Terence Davies once again proves himself to be astonishingly sensitive to the nature, dreams and disappointments of women.
Una, dir. Benedict Andrews. With Rooney Mara, Ben Mendelsohn, Riz Ahmed
The less said, the better when it comes to the basic plot points in Australian theatre director Benedict Andrews’ remarkable cinematic debut Una, based on David Harrower’s Blackbird (the Scottish playwright here adapts his own work). So here goes: with deeply unresolved questions about her past, Una (Rooney Mara) travels to another city, turning up unannounced at Ray’s (Ben Mendelsohn) work and dredging up a decade-old experience that he thought he’d left behind. Mendelsohn and Mara are exceptional as the troubled and troubling Ray and Una, and Riz Ahmed makes for a perfect foil as the innocent Scott.
The film interrogates the psychology of abuse with precision, intelligence and restraint; taking on a disturbing subject, Harrower and Andrews expertly shift us through an enormous range of intellectual and emotional positions. This is filmmaking artistry of the highest order, from writing and performances to the unsettling, moody score from Jed Kurzel (Macbeth, Snowtown). The brilliance of Andrews’ overall achievement is crystallised in a breath-taking opening sequence, a masterclass in cinematic exposition, which ends with Una staring defiantly at the camera while PJ Harvey screams “I lost my heart / Under the bridge / To that little girl”. It’s a moment of hard-hitting power, pure cinema, and as literal and painful as a punch in the face.
Your Name, dir. Makoto Shinkai. With Ryunosuke Kamiki, Mone Kamishiraishi
Two teenagers’ lives are changed forever when the first visible comet for a thousand years approaches Japan. Mitsuha lives in a rural area and longs to leave, whilst Taki waits tables in Tokyo when he’s not studying. Despite never having met, they both begin to dream about each other, imagining that somehow they have exchanged bodies and are existing in parallel lives. As this phenomenon continues, they start communicating with each other via messages left on smartphones and resolve to meet to make sense of what is happening to them. Despite the fun body-swap vibe that our heroes initially experience, a dark journey lies ahead.
Considered by many as the heir to Miyazaki, Makota Shinkai (5 Centimeters Per Second, The Garden of Words) proves himself to be a master of precise, beautifully observed animation, with every scene rich in detail. As a writer, he delivers an emotionally-charged story, cleverly balancing contemporary feel, traditional influence and sci-fi elements, which keep the viewer enthralled as the drama moves towards its awe-inspiring conclusion. This is a thought-provoking, mature work by one of Japan’s finest filmmakers. And it marks the first time an animated film has appeared in our Official Competition.
Headline Galas
Opening Night: A United Kingdom
Closing Night: Free Fire
American Express Gala: Lion
Royal Bank of Canada Gala: Arrival
Headline Gala: The Birth of a Nation
Headline Gala: La La Land
Headline Gala: Manchester by the Sea
The May Fair Hotel Gala: A Monster Calls
Headline Gala: Nocturnal Animals
Virgin Atlantic Gala: Queen of Katwe
Headline Gala: Snowden
The Mayor of London’s Gala: Their Finest
Strand Galas
Archive Gala: The Informer
Love Gala: Mirzya
Dare Gala: The Handmaiden
Debate Gala: Nocturama
Laugh Gala: Toni Erdmann
Thrill Gala: Bleed for This
Cult Gala: The Autopsy of Jane Doe
Journey Gala: Paterson
Sonic Gala: Chi-Raq
Family Gala: Trolls
Special Presentations
Festival Special Presentation: American Honey
Documentary Special Presentation: The 13th
Experimenta Special Presentation: Ascent
BFI Flare Special Presentation: It’s Only the End of the World
Films in First Feature Competition
Chameleon, dir. Jorge Riquelme Serrano
The day after hosting a going away party, Chilean couple Paula and Paulina plan on a quiet day together, making the most of their final hours before Paulina has to leave for a long stay in Europe. When Gastón, a guest from the previous evening, shows up unexpectedly the two think nothing of it. But Gastón appears intent on staying and when a few drinks bring forth underlying tensions between the pair, his dark intentions begin to emerge. With its glacial approach, there is something Haneke-esque about this impeccably-styled bourgeois nightmare, which is strewn with ambiguities and unanswered questions. Touching upon the potent themes of class, sexuality and racial identity, Jorge Riquelme Serrano’s insidious, often unbearably tense debut can be genuinely upsetting at times. And yet, though undeniably gruelling, it is by no means exploitative, displaying a satisfying sense of restraint even during its most brutal moments.
A Date for Mad Mary, dir. Darren Thornton
Fresh out of a six-month stretch in the slammer, Mary returns home to find the people around her have moved on. And it stings. Preparing a speech for her best friend Charlene’s wedding and, seeing a chance to prove that she’s not a total fuck-up, Mary decides she must find a date to take to the ceremony. Her dryly sarcastic response to her own mission may make for crackling comedy, but Mary’s misfit status has isolated her, and the version of Charlene she idolised may no longer exist. She also finds herself increasingly drawn to Jess, the gorgeous wedding videographer… Brothers Darren and Colin Thornton take on directing and screenwriting roles, adapting Yasmine Akram’s stage play to deliver an instant-hit Irish feel-good film with guts. And Seána Kerslake delivers one of the stand-out performances of the year, which will have you rooting for messy, infuriating and hilariously compelling Mary all the way.
Divines, dir. Houda Benyamina
With staggering self-assurance and disarming creativity, director Houda Benyamina bursts onto our screens with the frenetic story of Dounia, a teenage girl living in a crime-fuelled suburb on the outskirts of Paris. Along with her best friend Maimouna, the budding entrepreneur vies for the attention of local dealer Rebecca, whilst simultaneously embarking on a fraught emotional relationship with a handsome male dancer who has caught her eye. But as Dounia’s work and personal lives rapidly escalate, her control begins to slip and she soon finds herself dangerously out of her depth. A neat feminist twist on the typically male-centric terrain of the gangster thriller, this imaginatively directed and sharply-performed drama signals the arrival of some major new talents. In its depiction of female friendships and power dynamics, the film makes for an interesting companion piece to Céline Sciamma’s Girlhood, while as a vibrant explosion of youthful energy and imagination, it stands defiantly on its own.
The Giant, dir. Johannes Nyholm
Bristling with originality, The Giant defies classification: a mythic story told on a very intimate scale; a sports movie played out to a Western soundtrack; a comedy of melancholy optimistism. From this melting pot of ideas, writer-director Johannes Nyholm crafts the tender and emotionally complex story of Rikard, a severely deformed man with autism. Haunted by the loss of his mother, from whom he was separated as a young child, Rikard believes that she will take him back if he wins the Scandinavian Championship trophy in his beloved sport of pétanque (a form of boules). Although surrounded and supported by an army of loving friends and carers who are unfazed by his condition, from time to time Rikard escapes to an imaginary world where he is a 50-metre tall giant. Marrying dazzlingly beautiful fantasy sequences with quietly moving drama, Nyholm filters Rikard’s world through a distinctive soundscape to create an extraordinarily rich and inventive film.
Hedi, dir. Mohamed Ben Attia
Deserving winner of the Best Actor and Best First Feature prizes at this year’s Berlinale, Mohamed Ben Attia’s simple yet richly resonant film is named after its young Tunisian protagonist, a car salesman about to embark on a marriage arranged by his mother. But when Hedi (Mastoura, superbly understated) is sent by his likewise domineering boss to solicit sales in another town, he encounters and is drawn to Rim, a tourist guide and entertainer at his hotel whose free-spirited confidence is worlds away from his bride-to-be’s conventional modesty – and indeed from his own listless passivity. Freedom beckons, but the wedding’s just days away… Succeeding both as a persuasively naturalistic account of a fraught personal dilemma and as a lightly handled metaphor for Tunisia itself, torn between tradition and modernity as it struggles with economic problems, this extremely fine debut heralds a writer-director to watch.
Lady Macbeth, dir.
William Oldroyd
Debut director William Oldroyd and writer Alice Birch move from theatre to film with an ingeniously realised adaptation of an 1865 Russian novella Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, which has echoes of Jane Austen. Katherine (Florence Pugh) is a young bride, unhappily married to the nasty son of a wealthy mine owner. Unable to consummate his marriage, the husband is sadistic, refusing to even allow his young wife out of the house. Left alone when her husband is called away on business, Katherine starts to explore the grounds and initiates a passionate affair with earthy, ill-mannered stable-hand Sebastian (Cosmo Jarvis), while her increasingly concerned maid (rising star Naomi Ackie) watches on. Lady Macbeth has grand ambitions, and exudes a rare vision and talent. The film also makes a virtue of its limited resources. Proving her knockout turn in The Falling was no fluke, Pugh amazes as a heroine whose behaviour shifts from steely proud to wild-eyed and deranged.
The Levelling, dir. Hope Dickson Leach
Clover (Ellie Kendrick, The Diary of Anne Frank) is finishing a veterinary course when her beloved brother dies and she is called home to her family’s struggling Somerset farm. Her mother died some time ago and it’s clear that Clover and her garrulous father Aubrey (David Troughton) do not get on. Debut writer/director (and LFF short film alumnus) Hope Dickson Leach gives the talented duo a complex, finely-crafted script to work with, offering a drama that works on many different levels. The story is framed against the devastating Somerset floods, with parallels drawn between the fractured family and their dying farm. Nanu Segal’s expressive photography of the land, accentuated by Ben Baird’s rich sound design – both elements unshowy but wholly cinematic – underpin the challenges the family face. Dickson Leach also skilfully dismantles assumptions about privilege of gentleman English farmers delivering a sophisticated feature of deep emotional heft and power.
My Life as a Courgette, dir. Claude Barras
Nine-year-old Icare, known to his friends as ‘Courgette’, finds himself in a local orphanage after the accidental death of his abusive mother. Here he meets a group of children, each with their own emotional burdens and traumas to bear. Rather than dwelling on their misfortunes, the kids adopt a pragmatic approach to leading their lives, finding ways to co-exist in relative harmony. And the arrival of young Camille gives Courgette his first taste of hope and possible romance. Despite its disarmingly uncomplicated look, this stop motion animated feature is one for older children and teens, as well as adults. It deals with its mature themes subtly and with respect, exploring the ways we adapt to the future and make the best of our lives. Claude Barras, working with an inventive script by Céline Sciamma (who wrote Being 17, which also plays in this festival) has created a funny, engaging and moving film with an unexpected depth and sense of beauty.
Playground, dir. Bartosz M Kowalski
Gabrysia, Szymek and Czarek are three pre-adolescents on the last day of school. Gabrysia is shy and unsure of herself, prone to bouts of self-harming that go unnoticed by her family. Szymek and Czarek, on the other hand, both display a boyish sense of bravado, frequently lashing out with apparently senseless acts of aggression and cruelty. When Gabrysia decides to divulge her true feelings for Szymek, the two boys take their sociopathic tendencies a step further, leading to a series of shocking and unexpected events. Bearing strong resemblance to the real-life murder of James Bulger which rocked the UK back in 1993, Bartosz M Kowalski’s chilling debut is every bit as disturbing as it should be, featuring distressing scenes of horrific violence yet without ever resorting to crude sensationalism. Cold, controlled and savagely upsetting, this remarkable but incendiary piece of work seeks only to ask difficult questions, not to offer easy answers.
Porto, dir. Gabe Klinger
A location where every frame seems imbued with a lingering romantic pessimism, Porto is the setting for the end, the start and the reminiscence of a love affair between American drifter Jake and French archaeologist Mati. By turns sexy and sad, the film shows the damage that their momentary connection helps them transcend, as well as the feelings they’re left with. Anton Yelchin, in one of his final roles, brings a restless physicality to Jake, a man caged in his own way of thinking. And Lucie Lucas’ bold performance is made iconic through some Nouvelle Vague framing – especially in an extraordinary eyes-across-the-room café scene. Executive produced by Jim Jarmusch and featuring a brief vocal performance by Chantal Akerman, director Gabe Klinger follows his 2013 documentary Double Play: James Benning and Richard Linklater with this ravishing debut fiction feature combining the textures of 35mm,16mm and Super8 film formats to question the verisimilitude of love, and of film itself.
Raw, dir. Julia Ducournau
Following in the footsteps of both her parents and older sister, animal-loving vegetarian Justine enrolls in veterinary college. Entering a seductive world of boys, drugs and all-night parties, the diligent freshman remains committed to her studies. But when she is forced to eat raw meat during an elaborate hazing ritual, a dormant hunger is awakened within her and soon an insatiable appetite for flesh takes over. With an abundance of subtext to sink your teeth into, this feminist teen cannibal tale oozes with provocative, youthful exuberance. Like comparable explorations of forbidden female desire such as Marina de Van’s In My Skin or Lynne Stopkewich’s Kissed, Raw is a deeply tactile, even physical experience, which is often uncomfortable to witness. But Julia Ducournau laces her sanguinary exercise in body horror with a caustic streak of dark humour, making it as perversely enjoyable as it is gleefully grisly. A truly singular coming of age fable… with extra bite!
What’s in the Darkness, dir. Wang Yichun
Young, female coming-of-age dramas are a rich seam for genre filmmakers, from Carrie to Ginger Snaps. But it’s rare to see such a young female-centric viewpoint in East Asian murder mysteries. What’s in the Darkness may start out with a tip of the hat to Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder, but it progresses more like a Céline Sciamma drama, with teenage girl Qu Jing discovering her sexuality as the local body count starts rising and incompetent police hunt for the serial killer. Her dad is the small town’s by-the-book detective, while the father of her more self-aware classmate, beautiful Zhang Xue, is more of a beat-it-out-of-them kind of cop. Wang Yichun’s script, which she initially wrote over a decade ago, is dark and unsentimental, drawing attention to the impact of regressive ideas about gender and sex – highlighting that the repressed will always return. A Chinese feminist police procedural? Yes please.
Wùlu, dir. Daouda Coulibaly
Malian director Daouda Coulibaly’s superb feature debut has been lauded for Ibrahim Koma’s stunning performance. He plays Ladji, a 20-year-old who works hard as an apprentice bus driver in Bamako in order to get his older sister Aminata (Inna Modja) out of prostitution. When he doesn’t get the promotion he expected, Ladji decides to contact Driss, a local drug dealer, who owes him a favour. Accompanied by his two best friends, Ladji embarks on a risky journey, transporting kilos of cocaine from Conakry to Bamako. Along the way he comes into contact with corrupt politicians and affiliates of al-Qaida. From there, he soon works his way to the top of the drug trafficking hierarchy, which provides him with unimaginable access to money and any vice he desires. Directing a screenplay that skilfully dabbles in the African oral storytelling tradition, Coulibaly’s potent and enigmatic film exudes style and brio, right up to its surprising end.
Read more from the official list here.