SBIFF Day 11 | The Knowing Eyes of a Child

Sometimes, the gems of the festival program and what makes the films so unique is its consistent and unusually intimate child’s eye perspective sneaks up on you in surprising ways and serves to remind you that there are many ways to tell a story in the language of cinema. So it went, for me, at least, with the mesmerizing Czech film Tiny Lights, which won my love and vote as one of the prize festival films this year.

What makes writer director Beata Parkanová’s film so unique and mesmerizing is its totally consistent and intimate child’s eye perspective. It’s hard to think of another film so focused on the point of view of a young child, being the endearing and playful Amálka (Mia Bankó, giving the most remarkable child performance of the festival) enduring a troubled domestic scene with sparring parents and doting grandparents.

Music plays no part in the film until the lullaby-like closing theme. Inspired cinematographer Tomas Jurick’s camera placement is all about our young protagonist’s space bubble and sensory awareness, with the adult world usually represented by out of focus grown-ups (out-of-focus in more than one way) and chatter in the periphery. Within this enchanted insular and minimalist world, details of the story and adult characters seep and drift through the mis en scene.

Through this tender and experimental film, we come to cherish Amalka’s worldview and innocence, with a sense of wonder and longing. Art films are rarely this sweet.

As an aside, this was one of those films which did not qualify as a crowd pleaser. While I found it to be quite profound, my neighbors’ overheard review was that “it was like watching paint dry.” Either I enjoy the Zen act of watching paint dry, or this was a wonderful piece of cinema. Or both. And then comes the pesky question of what opinions are made of: was I so moved because I’m a grandfather, with a newfound reverence for young children? And was I so moved by the Neil Young doc Coastal because I’m a massive Young fan? 

Art appreciation remains a highly subjective and enigmatic thing. Nobody is right, and everybody is right.

Getting His Due, At Long Last

Apart from the self-evident powers of his transformative talent as an actor, most recently seen in Rustin, The Color Purple and the his Oscar-nominated role in Sing Sing, Colman Domingo is also a fascinating case in perseverance and waiting for his well-deserved spotlight. Among the emotional moments of his Arlington Theatre tribute last night came as soon as he sat down for an interview with festival exec director and unapologetic fanboy Roger Durling, with Domingo’s opening line “if you knew the road it has taken for me to get here…”

From his beginnings in Philadelphia, Domingo commented “I had a humble life. I was devoted to being an artist. I just kept going. I always believed the love I was seeking was also seeding me.” Early on, he studied journalism. “I was a bookish nerd,” he laughed, “I just cover it up. I was deeply curious about the entire world. In a way, I’m doing the work now, just in a different form.”

Doing the honors of presenting his Montecito Award was none other than the uber-significant Montecitan Oprah Winfrey.

Going Very North

On the evidence of Icelandic comedies seen at SBIFF over the years, including Top 10 Must this year, a certain dry and well, icy, humor seems embedded in the culture there. In this eccentric taste treat, written and directed by Ólöf Birna Torfadóttir, a road movie narrative takes an odd coupling of an angry young fugitive woman and a last-ditch bucket listing suicidal woman into the extreme northeast of the rugged landscape.

Outsider female bonding is in store as the trip progresses, and a common source of poignancy between them is their motive of reuniting with daughters who have been hijacked by exes. But the serious elements in the story never get in the way of a raucous good time, and the narrative road is liberally strewn with audacious hijinks and well-placed cuss words. In other words, it’s a hoot, Icelandic style.

Short Takes 

In terms of left-field documentaries at the festival, one of the pleasant surprises was Balomania, a Danish production chronicling the illegal ballooning world in Brazil. Filmmaker Sissell Morell Dargis went embedded herself into this quote unquote underground and passionate underworld of balloon makers — baloeiros — in Sao Paulo who marshal resources to create epic-scaled hot air balloons. Call it street art in the skies. Aside from casting a spotlight on this little-known phenomenon, Dargis draws on raw, guerilla filmmaking tactics to create empathetic bonds with these supposedly renegade artists, teeming with creative gumption and can-do spirit. 

Lilly isn’t much to speak of in cinematic terms, as a rather awkward and generic piece of filmmaking (apart from star Patricia Clarkson, who can do no wrong). But the true life story it tells and fills in details on makes it more than worth the price of admission. Lilly Ledbetter, through her courageous quest for justice against the blatantly sexist labor practices of Goodyear (and corporate America by proxy) ultimately resulted in Obama’s passage of the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act in 2009. But it was a long and complicated battle, wending through the Supreme Court and beyond.

Rachel Feldman’s well-meaning film blends fictionalized material with archival footage of Ruth Bader Ginsburg and other true-life crusaders along the path to at least some semblance of gender equality justice.

Nature Calling Dept.

Not to be crass, but a certain sub-theme of this year’s had to do with comfort station situations. First there was Timothee Chalamet, who quite hilariously proved he is just a mere mortal when he excused himself to go pee before his acceptance speech at the end of his Arlington tribute. And there was one of precious few technical gaffes at the festival, the infamous Film Center out-of-order bathroom crisis, which forced viewers to take it to the streets to use facilities. 

But it’s a compliment to report that this was a rare glitch, and a growing pain in the new Film Center, in an otherwise smooth-sailing festival. 

Closing Day and Night Goings On

For its finale, another bold SBIFF — at 40 — has wisely devoted the Saturday schedule to TBA slots, bringing back popular films for another or a first look. Along with the worthy and popular goods of Mistura, Magic Hour, Separated and Color Book, the list includes one of my festival faves, the non-linear Lithuanian film Drowning Dry, which, for some, may seem like watching paint explode. It all comes to a close with the French film A Missing Part. 

The overall verdict on SBIFF 2025: two thumbs up.