Kommende visningerfebruar

mortu nega

Flora Gomes
1988
96 min.
Guinea-Bissau
DCP
kreolsk, Portugisisk / Engelske undertekster

Hvad sker der, når uafhængigheden er vundet og liv skal genoptages og leves? Det er det store spørgsmål i Mortu Nega, Flora Gomes’ eminente krigs- og kærlighedsfilm om Guinea-Bissaus kamp for selvstændighed.

Året er 1973. Solen steger, og krigen raser på tiende år i Guinea-Bissau, der kæmper for uafhængighed og selvstændighed fra den portugisiske kolonimagt. En af dem, der kæmper for friheden, er Diminga. Hun har meldt sig under guerillahærens faner, fordi hun vil til fronten for at finde sin mand, Sako.

Dimingas søgen fører hende igennem store dele af det krigshærgede og dødsplagede land. Med våben, ammunition og proviant traver hun sammen med andre oprører gennem tætbevoksede skovområder og højtvoksende græsmarker, hvor landminerne ligger spredt med løs hånd, indtil hun endelig finder sin sårede mand.

Men filmen stopper ikke der. For selvom om kolonikrigen ender, er landets guerillaleder og selvstændighedens ledestjerne, Amílcar Cabral, død, og Diminga og Sako aner ikke, hvad de egentlig vender hjem til. Hvordan de skal få deres liv og tilværelse til at hænge sammen igen i et land splittet og hærget af krig og kolonialisme, og hvor tørke og postkolonial bureaukrati holder et kvælertag om deres halse.

Mortu Nega (også kendt som Those Whom Death Refused) havde premiere på filmfestivalen i Venedig i 1988 – 15 år efter, at Guinea-Bissau blev uafhængigt – og var både instruktøren Flora Gomes’ debutspillefilm og den første fuldlængdefilm produceret i Guinea-Bissau efter landets selvstændighed.

Det er ved første øjekast en krigsfilm om kampen for retfærdighed og frihed. Men det ligeså meget et politisk drama og en tankevækkende fortælling om håb og kærlighed. Håbet, der får en til at forsætte med at leve, og kærligheden mellem én mand og én kvinde og til et hjemland, der gør livet værd at leve.

Flora Gomes har selv kaldt filmen en afrikansk lignelse. Og den er fortalt som en blanding mellem historisk virkelighed og afrikansk mytologi, hvor regn og dans måske er det, der kan forløse det, som ellers virker uløseligt, og forene de levende med de døde.

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Cinemateket.
Kopi: Cineteca di Bologna.

Restaureret af The Film Foundation’s World Cinema Project og Cineteca di Bologna på L’Immagine Ritrovata-laboratoriet i samarbejde med Flora Gomes.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

20. februar
19.15
Cinemateket (gothersgade 55, 1123 København)
Køb billet

two seasons, two strangers

sho miyake
2025
89 min.
Japan
DCP
japansk tale / engelske undertekster

Den japanske hovedprisvinder på sidste års Locarno filmfestival. En lavmælt film, der lader to årstider og to møder mellem fremmede mennesker spejle hinanden i poetiske paralleller.

Først: En sommerdag ved stranden. Lyden af bølgebrus spreder sig diffust langs lydbilledet. To unge, ensomme mennesker møder hinanden. De udveksler et par ord, går rundt i stilhed, går hver til sit, mødes igen, spiser sammen og svømmer i det stormfulde hav.

Dernæst: vinter, et bjerget snelandskab. Sneen absorberer al lyd, lægger verden i stilhed, og det reflekterende lys giver jorden en særlig glød. Storbymennesket Li, en manuskriptforfatter med skriveblokade, er rejst hertil for at, ja, hun ved faktisk ikke, hvorfor hun er taget afsted. Hun når frem til et øde pensionat, der drives af den gådefulde Benzo. De taler sammen, ja, men mest forbi hinanden. Alligevel begiver de sig en aften ud på et uventet eventyr i det natlige snelandskab.

Two Seasons, Two Strangers – som vandt hovedprisen på sidste års Locarno filmfestival – er baseret på to historier af mangategneren Yoshiharu Tsuge. Med en præcis sans for de mest beskedne gestusser fremmaner instruktør Sho Miyake en verden, der både er rundet af dyb tristesse og rummer en evne til genfortryllelse. Miyake arbejder med fortællemæssige metalag, som lader hvert blik og hver bevægelse give genklang i poetiske paralleller og kontraster. Two Seasons, Two Strangers er den type film, der renser sanserne og lader sin lille fiktion stå helt åben over for verden og dens mange uforklarligheder.

Om filmen har Sho Miyake selv udtalt: “Vi rejser og laver film for at træde ud af rutinen og de sædvanlige udtryk; for at gå ud i verden som en fremmed. Ord kan føre os nye steder hen, men kan også bedøve vores sanser. Gennem billeder og bevægelse kan vi møde andre – og os selv – mere fordomsfrit. Og vi vågner op til en verden uden navn, der er fyldt med stilhed og forundring.”

Præsenteres i samarbejde med Cinemateket.
Kopi: Bitters End.

“The World Doesn’t Know Shinji Somai”
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2023

“The world doesn’t know Shinji Somai”. That was the catchphrase coming with the book Yomigaeru Somai Shinji (Shinji Somai Renaissance) published in 2011, 10 years after the director’s death. Now that 10 years has passed again, does the world finally met Shinji Somai? Yes and no. Of course, several retrospectives of his films have been organized in festivals, where he found a new audience. He is still far from achieving the widespread recognition that all Somai lovers feel is his due. This is a thing that I’ve felt precisely while speaking with those involved in cinema around the world. The world still doesn’t know Shinji Somai.

Since his debut in 1980, Shinji Somai is held in the highest esteem by Japanese film fans, just as it is, let's face it, impossible for anyone making cinema in Japan today not to have Somai in mind. Of course, it is easy to imagine the difficulty of mulling over the atmosphere of early Somai films if one is not familiar with the specific context of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. At a time when, with the dismantling of the major studio production system many films were being made by parasitising other industries such as television or music Somai launched his filmography by making "idol films" relying on the popularity of the teenage girls who played the leading roles (which is reminiscent of Hou Hsiao Hsien's debut at the same period).

We often speak of the "sequence shot" or the "long shot" to characterise the stylistic feature he acquired during this period. However, nothing could be more misleading than to regard this as his 'auteurism'. Simply comparing Somai Shinji's long takes with those of Welles, Tarkovsky, Angelopoulos and others will only make his technical coarseness stand out. This could be understood as a reflection of the poor production conditions of Japanese cinema in the 1980s. But no. What he was really aiming for was first and foremost the 'sparkle of life' of the actors. In his work, the long shot allows these young women, seen as "idols", to burst through the frame from within, the better to escape. This inspires the crew, who grew up in studios, to break through the limited circumstances of the time. This 'long shot', which is a by-product of his deep trust in the vitality of the actors' and crew's bodies, is not just a directorial technique, but rather a reflection of his 'attitude to life'.

Moving (selected in Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard section in 1993) is, amongst all of Somai’s films, the one which first created a contact between international audience and his entire oeuvre. However, the film did not simply end up unawarded, nor did it receive the same critical favours as Takeshi Kitano's Sonatine, which was screened in the same year and in the same section. Here again, the world and Somai replayed their failed encounter. Watching the film again today, it seems unbelievable. Especially because of the presence of the lead actress, Tomoko Tabata. Her ability to move, the expression on her face, her eyes - everything is incredible; but it is her voice that I find most captivating. This voice, which alone manages to express her whole being, which plays with distance and time as if it were breaking down all boundaries, to touch and shake the adults who play the other characters, right up to the audience. As a filmmaker, it's hard to believe that such a being could exist in a film. The images are like so much evidence of her vital energy. We are led to reflect on the fact that the life force residing there may also be in us, and we may not be making full use of it. Life, here reinstilled.

There can be no doubt that Moving is still the best gateway for "the World" and Shinji Somai to meet. You don't need to know anything about the history of Japanese cinema to understand this film, which marks a period of the highest refinement in his career, as well as having been brought to life through Tomoko Tabata’s character. But if, thanks to this film, viewers ever become interested in Shinji Somai, I would like them to see his twelve other films. Because in each of them, you will see bodies and hear voices that surprise you. Again and again. There's nothing to be surprised about. We have not yet met Somai Shinji enough.

We still don't know Somai!
Essay udgivet i pressebooklet i forbindelse med den nyrestaurede udgave af Moving.

05. marts
19.15
Cinemateket (gothersgade 55, 1123 København)
Køb billet

Tusind sole

mortu nega

Hvad sker der, når uafhængigheden er vundet og liv skal genoptages og leves? Det er det store spørgsmål i Mortu Nega, Flora Gomes’ eminente krigs- og kærlighedsfilm om Guinea-Bissaus kamp for selvstændighed.

two seasons, two strangers

Den japanske hovedprisvinder på sidste års Locarno filmfestival. En lavmælt film, der lader to årstider og to møder mellem fremmede mennesker spejle hinanden i poetiske paralleller.