For the Vancouver Fringe Festival this year, I really wanted to see some comedy. After scrolling through the program guide I came across Peter n’ Chris (Peter Carlone and Chris Wilson) and their self-written play Here Lies Chris. These two Canadian comics are veterans of the Canadian Fringe circuit and have also appeared in the Just for Laughs Festival.

The show took place at the Pacific Theatre on 12th Avenue, a very cool space tucked away in the corner of an old church building. The crowd was warm and friendly, a solid group of typical smiling Fringe-goers. I sat high up the risers and waited anxiously to see what would come my way.

Peter and Chris walk out while performing a lip sync and dance number set to “Some Nights” by Fun–a perfect introduction to the folly of these two comics. Their sketch show is loose and leaves lots of room for improvisation. First an foremost, Here Lies Chris is an initiation into sketch comedy as a genre (they begin with a ‘lesson in sketch’). But as the show opens up, it transforms into an intergalactic journey.

There’s a touch of the chaotic as Peter and Chris run up and down risers, talking from off-stage during the performance. After much drama–and even an on-stage shooting–the audience learns that Chris has recently moved to Toronto, leaving Peter alone in Vancouver. This heartbreak moves the play towards its conclusion, which ends with Peter and Chris grieving their separation.

It was clear from the moment I sat down that Peter and Chris are seasoned improvisers. With great timing and writing, Here Lies Chris is enjoyable to the tragic end.

 

Peter N’ Chris Present: Here Lies Chris is part of the 2015 Vancouver Fringe Festival, which runs until Sept 20. For a full listing of upcoming Fringe events, visit the festival website

 

VLAFFLOGO

SAD Mag’s Nana Heed reviews Beira-Mar, Los Hongos and A Loucura Entre Nos, three stunning films from this year’s Vancouver Latin American Film Festival. Violence, humour, heartbreak, despair–this years festival lineup was not to be missed.

 

BIERAMAR

Beira-Mar (“Seashore”)

After debuting at the Berlin Film Festival earlier this year, directors Filipe Matzembacher and Marcio Reolon brought Beira-Mar (“Seashore”) to Vancouver screens for the 2015 Latin American Film Festival. Their first feature-length film, Beira-Mar, presents a sweet inspection of sexuality, youth, family, and liberation.

Following his grandfather’s passing, our young male protagonist, Martin, and his friend Tomaz venture to southern Brazil to collect a document from distant extended family. The trip prompts the two boys to explore their relationship, while also providing Martin an opportunity to heal old wounds with his estranged family. Finally, the protagonist learns to overcome his tumultuous relationship with the sea.

Unfortunately, the slow pace of the film prevented it from inspiring the audience completely. I found it hard to stay engaged, even when I could tell the scene was meant to be meaningful for Martin. One conversation with his grandmother, for instance, is exceptionally long and communicates very little–though this moment of reconnection is clearly an important one for their relationship.

Despite its shortcomings, the film has the right ingredients and intention to be an insightful foray into adolescence. The stripped down nature of the scenes enhances the remoteness and despair Martin feels during his trip. Meanwhile, the rough, bare bones cinematography uses the qualities of the landscape to enhance Martin’s feelings toward the less-than-promising meet-up with his family.

 

LOSHONGOSRAS+CAL

Los Hongos

Los Hongos is an engaging film about two young boys, Ras and Calvin, immersing themselves deeply into the subversive world of street art. The film is set in Cali, Colombia, and the colours of the city alone make the film vibrant to watch. The story follows both boys home to their respective neighbourhoods, and then brings them back together to unfold a shared passion for something forbidden by civic authority. By the film’s conclusion, audiences will have developed an affection for both protagonists, as well as for many of the supporting, equally likeable characters.

 

Throughout the film, Calvin cares for his grandmother, who is battling cancer. The old woman is stunning–she easily wins the audience’s love–and the relationship between wizened elder and caring grandson is inspiring.

 

Ras’ mother, meanwhile, worries about her son and tries unrelentingly to bring him into the fold of her church. She disapproves of his street art, something that is hard for Ras to deal with. But as the film progresses, we learn that Ras’ mother is as lost as her son and in need of a beacon of hope. For her, this is provided by the church, while for Ras, it’s painting that provides him with this gateway to feeling alive–an escape from life’s sinister moments.

 

There is a sense of urgency to the film that concentrates itself in certain scenes. At one point,  police crack down on a painting session and become violent with the artists; at another, graphic footage from the Arab Spring protests inspire Ras and Calvin’s artwork. The two boys are later arrested while out painting. These moments of serious tension remind the audience of a collective struggle to survive and overcome oppressive systems; these scenes bring Los Hongos close to home.

 

ALOUCURA

A Loucura Entre Nós (“The Madness Among Us”)

The documentary by Fernanda Vareille takes place in Bahia, Brazil within a psychiatric hospital.  Criamundo is the name of an NGO run inside the hospital that works to reintegrate previously committed patients back into society. We listen to various patients, with a focus on two women, and get a sense from them what life is like within the walls of the psychiatric wards, what it’s like working within the program, and what their lives entail beyond the walls of the hospital.

Vareille’s depiction of her interview subjects is sensitive to avoid exploiting a vulnerable minority.  Elisangela is one of the two main interviewees with a powerful voice, a loving relationship to her daughter, and a strong desire to work hard and preserve her dignity in life.  With Elisangela, we walk through the psych ward on a ‘normal day’ and see where she sleeps, who else shares the space, and other things that happen while Vareille’s camera is rolling.  Seeing a combination of prepared interviews with various people who access Criamundo as well as what was caught on camera after Vareille seemed to have left it rolling in front of a gate, or walked through the halls holding it, builds a sense of trust towards her explorations of ‘normalcy’ and the struggle to be alive in each of us.

The film rolls along in such a way that you can be moved by each moment–there is a spectrum of humour, heartbreak, and critical commentary.  Not once is the film overly fixated on a person’s mental illness as the main point of inspection.  We become more invested in where the different interviewees wish to take us–be it the struggle to find work, or the internal struggle to identify as a person with a mental illness among other things.  I was so moved by watching this documentary and would highly recommend trying to track it down!
For more information about the Vancouver Latin American Film Festival, visit the festival website.

 

I walked into Stephen Cone’s Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party at last week’s Vancouver Queer Film Fest jaded by a history of over-indulging in cheesy, vaguely LGBT films. At best, I hoped the coming-of-age film about a 17-year-old white boy and his Christian family might be cute, maybe even entertaining. But instead I found Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party to be sweetly orchestrated, intricate and smart–a meaningful commentary on what it’s like to go up against an entire community.

The film centres around young, fresh-faced Henry Gamble on his 17th birthday. Our protagonist is a blossoming gay individual and is emotionally wrought over his equally fresh-faced, straight best friend. Over the course of one day and one big pool party, Henry ushers in a new year of living and, ultimately, learns how to be himself. The film alternates between adorably funny moments and disturbing ones. Audiences will remain engaged by what makes each character tick through each scene.

 

henry-gamble

 

Cone takes the audience to some pretty dark places, examining the heavier sides to growing up gay (or even just different). This is especially true for one of Henry’s guests, Logan, whose troubles are concentrated by a lack of real understanding from his church community. Everyone tiptoes around him because of an incident that happened at church camp and now, when he is most in need of true connection and support, he is left to fend for himself.

Another strength of Henry Gamble lies in its ability to poke fun at the fact that it’s so clearly situated within the upper class, white, Christian perspective. When wine is smuggled into the party by a longstanding church member and referred to as ‘medicine,’ I couldn’t help but smile. In another scene, the pastor (Henry’s dad) and a fellow church member fumble frantically for the remote control when a movie suddenly gets “inappropriate.” They heave a sigh of relief after finally switching the channel to good old football, and I laughed out loud with the rest of the audience.

Both focussed and honest, Henry Gamble is the kind of movie about young people growing up I wish I’d had as a young person growing up.  Even watching now, in my mid-twenties, I felt I could take a lesson from the struggles of some of Henry’s guests, slightly older but equally well-portrayed as the younger ones.

 

Find out more about VQFF here.

LA_VISITA_500

An Argentinian/Chilean production by director Mauricio López Fernández, La Visita centres around a young trans woman, Elena, who returns home to attend her father’s wake. The entire film takes place on the property of a doctor, home to his wife, their kids, an eccentric mother-in-law condemned to the upstairs, and a full staff, one of whom is Elena’s mother Coya.

Elena, played by incredible trans actress Daniela Vega, understands that talking matter-of-factly with the rest of the household will not be enough to resolve the ‘uncomfortable situation’ caused by her reappearance as a woman. Interestingly, while Elena’s struggle to find acceptance as a trans woman is the centre of the action, each character appeals the audience with their own ordeal.

Coya, for instance, is a deliciously blended character; it’s near impossible to shun her for shunning her trans daughter. As a servant to the doctor and his family, Coya struggles with class throughout the film while also coping with the loss of Elena’s father. More than missing her late husband, though, she is stricken by the loss of a strong male presence in her life. It’s endlessly entertaining to watch her as she attempts to satisfy her lust for young meat–a feat that, at her age, requires a lot of creativity.

Teresa, the doctor’s wife, is also struggling. She is left emotionally vulnerable by a husband who doesn’t come home nights. Though she is on the verge of erupting, Teresa continues to pretend that she is running the show. No one in La Visita is able to talk about what is going on with them, personally. Instead, Fernández uses facial tics to powerfully communicate characters’ true feelings.

The film wraps up with a sensuality expressed by Vega’s character in a few isolated moments, at night, or alone in front of her bedroom mirror. Viewers will fall for her almost immediately and stay on her side throughout, even while sympathizing with almost every character in the film. Because there is little dialogue and the action is confined to the house and surroundings, La Visita has a slow, dreamlike quality. Viewers will find themselves wondering about each character as the story unfolds, in this intense and intimite venture.

La Visita played at this year’s Vancouver Queer Film Festival, which runs until Aug 23. For festival showtimes and information, visit the VQFF website.