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PANORAMA COMPETITION


Port-Ger-Braz-Fr. 2012. 110mins Director Miguel Gomes Production company O Som e a Furia International sales The Match Factory, info@ matchfactory.de, www.the- match-factory.com Producer/executive producer Luis Urbano Screenplay Miguel Gomes, Mariana Ricardo Cinematography Rui Pocas Editors Telmo Churro, Miguel Gomes Production design Bruno Duarte Animation supervisor Frank Govaere Main cast Teresa Madruga, Laura Soveral, Ana Moreira, Henrique Espirito Santo, Carloto Cotta, Isabel Cardoso, Ivo Müller, Manuel Mesquita


Tabu REVIEWED BY FIONNUALA HALLIGAN


Portuguese director Miguel Gomes spins out story webs which stretch from modern Lisbon to an unnamed African colony of 50 years ago in the black-and-white Tabu — a nod in part to FW Murnau whose 1931 film bore the same name and chapter headings. Inventive, appealing and idiosyncratic, Tabu’s flicker- ing images and tinkling piano cannot help but call to mind The Artist and other recent film homages, but Gomes is very much his own artist, and Tabu is a decidedly unusual film. With its offbeat structure and split story threads, Tabu will


require some critical endorsement, but its flights of fancy should help it into strong arthouse sales and the festival circuit. Despite a silent second half — apart from a voiceover narration — shot in glowing 16mm, Tabu still is a modern and accessible piece that underlines Gomes’ growing reputation. Accentuated by the odd flash of unexpectedly deadpan


humour, Tabu’s opening preamble appealingly introduces a “sad and melancholic crocodile” before the action shifts to Lis- bon and a chapter called ‘A Lost Paradise’. Here Pilar (Madruga), swimming solo into late middle-age, is pre-occupied with the fate of her unpredictable octogenarian neighbour Aurora (Soveral) and Santa, her Cape Verdean maid (Pedro Costa favourite Isabel Cardoso). Pilar rescues Aurora after she has gambled away all of her


money and this strange old lady relates odd dreams about mon- keys as Gomes’ camera circles her insistently. Gomes’ jigsaw-like set-up often shoots out distractedly into


scenes such as Santa’s adult literacy class — but then, as the New Year arrives, the introduction of a man called Gianluca Ventura (Espirito Santo) shifts the film to a chapter entitled ‘Paradise’ and a Mozambique-like country where, we are told, “world-famous big-game hunter” Aurora (Moreira) had a tea plantation. The rest of the action is narrated by Gianluca and shot in 16mm, interspersed with the occasional Phil Spector song. What follows is an atmospheric depiction of the end of Portugal’s colonial adventures as a pregnant Aurora embarks on an affair with the young Gianluca (Cotta). Former critic Gomes, whose last film, Our Beloved Month Of


August, screened at Cannes in Directors’ Fortnight in 2008 before a solid arthouse run, has possibly thrown in too many stylistic twists — silent, 35mm switching to 16mm, black and white. But his ambition and inventiveness more than compen- sate. Of particular note are Tabu’s exceptional locales, from a Lisbon festooned with Christmas decorations to a pool party which echoes the 1960s as well as tropical colonial decay. The crocodiles, both big and small, keep a beady eye on proceedings.


SCREEN SCORE ★★★ February 15, 2012 Screen International at the Berlinale 7 n


US-Can. 2011. 106mins Director Sheldon Larry Production company The Film Collaborative International sales Arrow Entertainment, www. arrow-entertainment.com Producers Glenn Gaylord, Gabriel Blanco Executive producers Marc L Bailin, Sheldon Larry Screenplay Glenn Gaylord, from a story by Sheldon Larry and Glenn Gaylord Cinematography Tom Camarda Editor Charles Bornstein Music Kimberly Burse Choreography Frank Gatson Jr Production designer Giao-Chou Ly Main cast Ephraim Sykes, Phillip Evelyn, Andre Myers, Miss Barbie-Q, James Alsop, Hailie Weaver, DJ Fatha Julz, Cameron Koa, Metra Dee, Lady Red Couture, Roxy Wood


Leave It On The Floor REVIEWED BY FIONNUALA HALLIGAN


Gay, glam and Glee-full, Sheldon Larry’s lively musical Leave It On The Floor is inspired by the 1991 feature Paris Is Burning, which documented the drag-centred Harlem ball culture (most famously appropriated by a vogue-ing Madonna). Twenty years later, that ball scene is still vital in 15 cities


around the US, and Larry has come up with a rousing musical devoted to the El Monte event in California. Leave It On The Floor, a traditionally phrased song-and-dance show about a very non-traditional family unit, is bound to become an endur- ing staple of any LGBT programming, though wider exposure of a musical with song titles such as Knock The Motherfuckers Dead is sadly a challenge, despite Kimberly Burse’s rousing musical score. In ball culture, drag queen members of “houses”, named in


the style of couture labels (House of Garcon, House of Prestige), walk the runway in their own elaborate costumes for a judging panel, while other participants compete for “realness” trophies (“Wall Street Executive Realness”). This gay and transgender community is made up mostly of African-American kids who are often homeless runaways; outside the competitions, their houses function as their real homes. The lives lived here may be alternative, but the plotting — by


Larry’s collaborator and lyricist Glenn Gaylord — is anything but. Outcast Brad (the talented Ephraim Sykes), living out of the back of the car he stole from his self-centred mother, meets ball boy Carter (Myers) at a convenience store — in an Artful Dodger twist, they steal each other’s wallets — leading to Brad’s intro- duction to the ball world. “Face” artist Princess Eminence (the charismatic Phillip Eve-


lyn) is also attracted to Brad, and tries to introduce him to the House of Eminence, where Carter also lives and “mother” Queef Latina (the marvellous Miss Barbie-Q) devours all the film’s best lines. Brad must learn how to respect himself, be true to Carter,


cope with a surprising tragedy — and master enough moves to win the “sexy walk” category before Leave It On The Floor surges to a grand finale at the Imperial Mini Ball, choreographed — as is the entire film — by Beyoncé and J-Lo collaborator Frank Gatson Jr. While Leave It On The Floor would charm any audience into


submission, its technical credits betray severe budgetary limita- tions — Larry used a crew of mostly students from the University of Southern California, and his staging is extremely conventional.


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