Timer

Directed by Jac Schaeffer

Capewatch Pictures

I love a romantic comedy. Throw in some magic realism–even better. Jac Schaeffer's Timer ticks both of those boxes, but, unfortunately for a film that explores people’s fears about missed opportunities, this film missed a few opportunities itself, and lost me as a fan in the process. (It bills itself as sci-fi but I say magic realism–there is new technology, but it’s never fully explained. I call that magic. More on this later, though.)

The concept is great: a company has created a wrist implant that counts down to the moment you will meet your soul mate–but only if that person has also bought an implant from the company. Obviously, this service is incredibly popular, leading to new phenomena in the dating world: some desperate types insisting every new person they date gets a timer implanted to make sure they’re "the one," others only dating those with timers in the first place, last-hurrah flings as the timer counts down its final days, and even technophobic hold-outs who don’t trust this newfangled stuff (with parallels to social networking). The consequences of having the timers could have been explored further though. Things were briefly touched upon-class issues, young love, bigger questions about fate and chance. The ideas all had loads of potential, but as I watched, I kept feeling like Schaeffer tried to go too far down each road, without taking the opportunity to wrap up every angle.

Because of all of the above, including my desire for more closure, I really wanted to like this film, and came very close to liking it. A few other things rankled, though. This may seem petty, but it struck a nerve with me: One of the opening shots of the film was of the logo of the company that created the timers–the silhouettes of a man and a woman, yet we briefly see later in the film that the company caters to couples of all sexualities. I don’t generally care what sexualities the main characters of a romantic comedy are, but it wouldn’t have taken much more effort to come up with a logo that was slightly less heteronormative. I mean, surely it would have been better advertising for the company itself within the confines of the film.

Which brings me back to the world of the film. It was quite shallow–poke at it too hard and it was clear that there were a lot of unanswered questions: How did the technology work? How did the implants work? Why hadn’t anyone tried to hack the system? What if people’s bodies rejected the devices? Were they only available to wealthy westerners? Again, what made for a less than satisfying film could yet pave the way for a great series.

When it comes to the Bechdel Test, this film almost succeeds, but focuses just too hard on the guy-chasing and glosses over the other aspects of the relationship between the two main characters. Timer’s website purports to put across the message that you can escape your fate, but the message I got was these women needed to define themselves through their romantic relationships.

Great concept, but ultimately I was dissatisfied.

Review by Chella Quint

Women Without Men

Directed by Shirin Neshat
Indiepix



The story of director Shirin Neshat is almost as compelling as her first feature. Born in religiously conservative Qazvin, Iran, Neshat has been using visual art to explore gender relations under Islam for nearly two decades, traveling back and forth between the States and Iran to enrich her perspective. But because her work has been so politically outspoken, Neshat has been exiled from her native country since 1996.

A visionary as courageous as she is condemned, Neshat is perhaps the most likely candidate to direct Women Without Men, an adaptation of Shahrnush Parsipur's sweeping novel. The scope of Parsipur's story is both epic and intimate, juxtaposing the Western imperialist invasion of Tehran with the intertwining lives of four Iranian women during the tumultuous summer of 1953. To call such a project ambitious would be an understatement.

The connection between this political upheaval and the four characters in question is unmistakable; just as the people of Tehran have decided to come together and fight to maintain democracy, these four women have reached an impasse in their own lives. Nearing thirty and still unwedded, Munis (Shabnam Toloui) seeks to escape the oppressive hand of her older brother; Faezeh (Pegah Ferydoni), a rape victim, must flee to avoid condemnation; long-time prostitute Zarin (Orsolya Tóth) is finally ready to leave the life behind; and middle-aged Fakhri (Arita Shahrzad) has grown weary of her stifling, loveless marriage. The greater struggle of the revolution provides a moving counterpoint to the individual struggles of these characters to achieve solace.

Both the book and the film use elements of magic realism to tell their story. In order to be free of her brother and reinvent herself as a revolutionary, Munis either fakes her own suicide or actually commits suicide and comes back to life; it's unclear which. While roaming the woods, Faezeh sees a surreal reenactment of her rape. Though the device isn't consistent, it still manages to be effective when used.

It helps that the film is beautifully shot, with careful compositions and a palpable tone and style. Neshat uses a metallic palette throughout, giving the film an appropriately imprisoning feel. The film is also remarkable for its avoidance of graphic imagery, with the exception of a disturbing scene in which Zarin scrubs herself raw in a public bath, but this is more to emphasize her diseased, nearly skeletal body, and needless to say, this lone image has a lingering impact.

In fact, it is Zarin's story that ends up being the most effective, while some of the others seem a bit heavy-handed at times. Fakhri's husband chides, "A woman hitting menopause shouldn't be flirting anymore," while Munis' brother declares, "A woman's body is like a flower. Once it blossoms, it quickly withers away." It's not that these sentiments aren't believable, but pairing them with a sheer lack of sympathetic male characters makes it all seem intentionally exaggerated.

From the film's final disclaimer, it seems that Neshat's primary objective was to focus on the revolution, but the way Women Without Men unfolds makes the political aspect of the story more of a backdrop than a feature. It is quite poignant, however, to realize that, in the end, our four main characters have been afforded a rebirth of some kind, even if it's through death, while the Iranian people have failed to achieve the one for which they've so bravely fought.

Review by Caitlin Graham

The Prospect of Magic

By M.O. Walsh
Livingston Press

The Prospect of Magic, a collection of ten stories, sets up a wonderful world where the real and magical live side by side. It’s enchanting. Some of the stories are hopeful, some are tragic, and some are sad, just like real life. All of them feature flights of fancy, just like the best magic trick.

The story centers around Fluker, Louisiana, where the World Famous Ploofop Travelling Circus decides to stay after its owner, Abidail Ploofop, dies. Margo the Mind Reader gives a eulogy, “a speech that, legend has it, wrapped a hopeful message around the mind of every person in attendance.” Soon, the townsfolk are playing poker on their roof with giants, receiving lions in the mail, and angry clown gangs roam the streets, making trouble. These delightful images of a circus gone to seed populate the stories, but never pull away from Walsh's general message of good will and that people can be accepted no matter what.

In "The Cat Who Ate The Boy," the young narrator receives a lion named Big Kitty mailed to the carnival, and after attempting to care for it, takes the beast to his grandfather. The story is told through the boy’s eyes, and Big Kitty that lurks in and out of the story soon becomes a metaphor for his parent’s relationship – an element that is in many ways big, strong and beyond the boy's control.

The title story tells of a teenage boy learning to deal with the magic he has, and how to reconcile it with the reality of the world. "The Dream Tow" tells of a fortune telling machine that reminds the characters to savour what they have in life, whether it’s a musical skill with a trombone or a happy marriage. The final story, "The Ploofop Refugees," follows Margo the Mind Reader’s husband as he deals with her impending death, and the possibility of the circus folks leaving Fluker.

All of these stories deal with the people from the circus and the Fluker townspeople as both everyday people, and people filled with magic. The ease the characters and stories show with the idea of giraffes eating leaves off the trees in the town square in the same story as the death of wife is remarkable, and is what sets these stories apart from other short stories in their sense of fun and community. The prospect of magic indeed.

Review by Taylor Rhodes