Ryan McNeil
As I was walking out of my screening of ALOIS NABEL on Saturday night, a fellow TIFF patron tapped me on the shoulder and asked “Did you understand that film, and if you did – could you please explain it to me?” Such is the nature of a film festival: Not every film is going to play to the masses.
ALOIS NABEL is an animated feature that uses rotoscope techniques to tell its tale with striking black and white visuals. Thing is, those striking visuals can only carry an audience so far, and then the story needs to kick in. That’s where the movie becomes a test, because it moves at the stoic, subtle pace that many eastern european films employ. Ordinarliy this isn’t such a problem, except that in this film precious little seems to actually happen.
The titular character is a train dispatcher who works at a little-used station near the Czech border with Germany and Poland. The story is et in 1989, so the spectre of a crumbling communist Europe weighs heavily in the background of every scene. As we follow Nabel through his unspectacular day-to-day, we understand that he is haunted by events in WWII – but what the events mean, and how Nabel is involved is rather unclear. So too is the reason that he is struggling with them now – some 45 years later.
When he starts to get his life back together, he does so by moving to a larger town for a lower job in a larger train station. It’s here the the film finally lets us into its heart by introducing Nabel to Kveta – a woman with whom he shares a tender bond. Seeing them sit on a bench on the train platform and compare train windows to spectacles, and certain engines to a woman’s breasts, brings a smile since they are drawn together by more than just a fleeting physical attraction. They are both worn almost threadbare, and connect on a truer level…which seems all the more honest through the animation employed in the film.
The film has a true elegance to it, but is a test to endure. It stays cryptic for a very long time, and even when it starts to show its cards, it does so in a manner that still leaves a general audience member unaware as to what has just been revealed. It does glorious things with scenes of snow, of rain, and of light and were it a short, I’d probably be here singing its praises. Instead I have to advise caution – while ALOIS NEBEL is stunning visually, it is a challenging, low simmering story. This is a bit of a pity, since I truly believe that with a bit more energy, it could take its place with other great animated films aimed at sophisticated audiences.
ALOIS NABEL plays TIFF once more: Sunday September 18h – 3pm @ AMC.
Really loving the variety. I’m not too bothered about reading up on the big films that are sure to get wide distribution. So thanks for uncovering films like this,that I can make a mental note of; see if they play any festivals over here and if they don’t, then I can try get something unique to play for the film society I run.
Cheers Hatter
There’s a lot of smaller films getting talked up all over TIFF, but I wouldn’t go out of your way on this one. As for skipping past the sexier titles, I’m cool with that – spreading the word on the smaller stuff is more important.
Yeah I got that impression about this film. I have actually read all your main film write-ups too actually once I realised how well you give nothing away. Just a nice summary of the film’s essence; I’d much rather that than a review. Glad I can experience TIFF through your experiences.
My next festival will be Leeds (although tempted to pop down to Raindance or London for a day or two). Leeds’ve just announced that Andrea Arnold’s Wuthering Heights will open the festival, which is pretty appropriate, what with its Yorkshire-ness and all. I do a lot of press stuff for them so hopefully will find out some of their other confirmed films soon, but their official programme launch is October 7th. Will cross reference with your coverage here to see if there are any of the same smaller features playing (but will avoid Alois Nebel)
Keep up the good work