What Did You See at SIFF This Week?

Now that SIFF is in full swing, all of us here at The SunBreak weigh in with our picks and pans of the films show at the festival this week.

MVB: Hidden Diary is the kind of movie Nicole Kidman would kill to be in, a family-secrets mystery with Catherine Deneuve as mom. Poignant, and filled with hot French women, it's also a take on feminism's before and after. (June 3, 4 p.m. @ Neptune; June 5, 11 a.m. @ Egyptian)

Devil's Town is equal parts brutality and black humor. Absurdist, satirical tour of dysfunctional post-war life in Belgrade. With tennis, hookers, and bunnies. (May 31, 4 p.m. @ Harvard Exit)

UK comedy Skeletons gives you something like Rosenkrantz & Guildenstern as psychic detectives, but terrifically warm-hearted. Great performances all around--especially by a giant doughy redhead--and a remarkable score. (May 28, 4:30 p.m. @ Neptune)

Audrey also liked Hidden Diary, for both the general unresolvedness of the film, and the fact that the protagonist shares her name. Meanwhile, ReGENERATION is a good documentary to get the kids fired up and ready to go, to take an interest in politics and current events, and hopefully change the world for the better. Its high energy is sure to get the youngs engaged; however, despite the film's star power (Ryan Gosling, Talib Kwali, Howard Zinn, Noam Chomsky), for anyone older than college age, it probably won't help overcome political frustration and cynicism-induced apathy. 

Okay, so we all saw Hidden Diary, and again, you've got two more chances to do so. Take it away, Josh: A discovered cookbook journal found in an abandoned seaside house conjures ghosts, stirs memories, solves repressed mysteries. Catherine Deneuve turns in another solid performance as a guarded matriarch left fragile by her own mother's abrupt and unexplained disappearance. Her own daughter, another emotional mess played by Marie-Josée Croze, seemed suspiciously more flaky when speaking English.

Air Doll felt like a great concept for a melancholy and whimsical short film, but became painful as it inflated to a feature-length two-hour running time. Just as the light comedy and limited plot wear thin, the whole thing takes a disturbing turn for the outlandish, garnering unintended laughs.

The Maldives were an inspired choice to provide a soundtrack for Riders of the Purple Sage, a 1925 silent Western. Though the challenge didn't take them too far out of their comfort zone, they were the main draw for the double header at the Triple Door. Perhaps the swarming attentive waiters caused me to miss a title card or two, but the plot of the film was so incomprehensible that the enthusiastic live score was the only thing holding my attention through the hour-long film, with dozens of lookalike characters, too many identity swaps, and barely explained plot points.

The French Kissers was a cute comedy whose biggest innovation was that average-looking humans were cast in the role of tongue-obsessed teenagers. It doesn't stray too far beyond the geek-gets-girl formula, but balanced unfortunate hair and bad skin with real heart.

Tony saw the How Sex Sold Hollywood presentation; skin deep (pardon the pun), but not without some seriously warped highlights. High (low?) points: a silent-era sapphic fever dream of a short called "Dormitory Secrets," and some frankly pornographic cartoons from distaff Max Fleischer studio animators.