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PFF 2021: THE ABSENT DIRECTOR, THE BRAVES, THE WORLD AFTER US and BROTHER’S KEEPER

by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

The Philadelphia Film Festival offers several intriguing international films among the hundreds of shorts, features, and documentaries that screened as part of this year’s program. Here is a recap of four worthwhile films, three of which were feature debuts. 

The Absent Director (dir. Arvand Dashtaray)

The Absent Director, the auspicious debut by Iranian filmmaker Arvand Dashtaray, is a canny single-take drama that unfolds entirely in and outside a house where a cast of actors are rehearsing a scene from Macbeth. They plan to film and submit the scene to the Edinburgh Festival, and they are up against a deadline, so tensions are high. The film slowly introduces the cast and crew, and the various personalities clash, especially as Arvand (played by Dashtaray)—who is in Paris and directing via Skype. He has issues with his lead actor, Meysam (Meisam Mirzaei), and stops the rehearsal. Arvand’s wife, Marene (Marene van Holk), who arrives late, soon announces that she is quitting the production. Other troubles boil and bubble, until a body involved in the production is found unconscious outside the front door.

The Absent Director reveals the real life drama involving both Arvand and Marene’s characters that are arguably more interesting that Macbeth. Dashtaray’s film may require a scorecard to keep track of everyone, but the ensemble cast performs well, capturing the various moods and emotions of the characters as things spiral out of control. But the real star of The Absent Director is the fluid filmmaking, which never feels gimmicky or self-conscious; it allows viewers to get absorbed in the action, which even includes flashbacks(!) that are seamlessly incorporated. The camerawork is particularly effective when a character is pacing on the rooftop on a cellphone. If the film does not yield a strong emotional payoff, it still delivers a satisfying experience.

The Braves (dir. Anaïs Volpé) 

Also about actors is writer/director Anaïs Volpé’s moving debut, The Braves, about two friends, Margot (Souheila Yacoub) and Alma (Déborah Lukumuena). Both actresses, they love to create drama. During an audition for Kristin (Sveva Alviti), they stage a fight to get attention. They also pull other stunts, like crashing a wedding. When Alma is cast in Kristin’s play, and Margot is her understudy, they stay up all night to “get into character.” But the next day, at rehearsal, Alma blanks on her line—Volpé cleverly cuts to black to represent this—and crashes from exhaustion. It is almost a spoiler to say that her condition is, in fact, more serious than that. The Braves is a terrific portrait of friendship and the loyalty these two women share as they struggle with the ups and downs of their lives and the play being staged. Margot finds some release for her anxiety with Niko (Matthieu Longatte), another actor, and singer Angélique Kidjo has some touching scenes as Alma’s supportive mother. Whether the film will jerk tears as Volpé intends will be up to the viewer, but the ingratiating performances by Yacoub and Lukumuena certainly make this film engaging, and Sean Price Williams’ cinematography is appropriately intimate. 

The World After Us (dir. Louda Ben Salah)

Also from France is writer/director Louda Ben Salah’s promising feature debut, The World After Us, a mostly charming (and occasionally indulgent) romantic piece of autofiction. Labidi (Aurélien Gabrielli), is a young writer who wants the high life but can barely scrape by. (A few too many scenes of him being rejected by cash and credit card machines show what is already known). His parents (Saadia Bentaïeb and Jacque Nolot) are patient with and supportive of him, passing him money Labidi needs but won’t ask for. But he is not without promise. Labidi has an option from a publisher for a book, just not the drive to write it—perhaps because he gets easily distracted.

While sitting in a coffee shop one day (not quite writing), he spies Elisa (Louise Chevillotte), a student, and is instantly smitten. He pursues her, and she responds, but what she sees in him is never quite clear. Yes, he is cute, and he is ambitious. He dreams of living with her, rather than sharing a tiny room with his friend Aleksei (Léon Cunha Da Costa). A lovely scene has Labidi and Elisa lying on the floor texting each other while Aleksei is snoring in the bed above them. But much of The World After Us involves Labidi trying to make money. He delivers food, but he is shamed when he delivers to a friend. He shoplifts, and tries various kinds of frauds, with mixed success. When he takes a job in an eyeglass store, he shows his acumen with sales, but he also has temptations. Gabrielli makes Labidi pitiable, until he grows up, and has an epiphany about his life. This denouement saves the film, which is reminiscent of another French romantic drama, Love Without Pity, from 1989. The World After Us may be slight, but it is also endearing. 

Brother’s Keeper (dir. Ferit Karahan)

Brother’s Keeper, a compelling Turkish/Romanian coproduction, is set entirely at a boy’s boarding school. Yusuf (Samet Yildiz) is a student who witnesses his best friend Memo (Nurullah Alaca) being subjected to cold-water punishment during the weekly shower. Yusuf is protective of Memo, especially when his friend gets sick and Yusuf takes Memo to the infirmary. What transpires, is an allegory about guilt, negligence, and responsibility as efforts to get Memo to a hospital are prolonged. Brother’s Keeper, directed and cowritten by Ferit Karahan, captures the raw chill of this cold, hostile environment, where teachers are quick to punish, and boiling water is needed to melt the frozen lock on the infirmary door. (A running joke has almost everyone who enters the infirmary slipping on its slick floor). The film is certainly critical of authority, addressing themes of corruption and power, but as the truth about Memo’s condition is revealed Brother’s Keeper becomes quite poignant. As Yusuf, Samet Yildiz is heartbreaking, especially when he calls home. Karahan’s film is bleak and relentless, which is why it has such power.