Where to begin? The film festival in Telluride is experiential; having dimensions beyond a critique of the films It is mood and discovery.
     So let me begin with my belated introduction to Pablo Lorraine. Chile’s preeminent talent had crossed my radar before, but I never managed to see one of his films. Telluride honored the director with one of its tributes, including an enthusiastic introduction by Gael Garcia Bernal, an interview with the director, film clips from Tony Manero, Post Mortem, No, The Club, and Jackie (which premiered a few days later at Venice). These clips were unnerving and spellbinding. Though disappointed not to see Jackie, we were treated to Neruda, which delightfully was not a biopic. Rather it is a story, with Nerudian and noir elements. A lot of the film is told from the point of view of a police investigator in Neruda’s imagination who is pursuing him as Neruda makes his escape from Chile to exile.  Loved the atmosphere and the performances. The poetry of Neruda and his effect on the people of Chile shines through. Can’t wait to see it again. Can’t wait to see Jackie.  And it was also fun to see the two stars of the film arrive in a red Tesla….so bourgeoisie!
     The guest director this year was Volker Scholondorff, who was an assistant to Louis Malle, Alain Resnais, and Jean-Pierre Melville in the 1950s and 60s. He returned to Germany and with Werner Herzog, Fassbinder and Margarethe von Trotta, established the German New Cinema in the 1970s, especially with the 1979 direction of The Tin Drum, which alas I have to confess to have not seen. I had caught Volker’s 1990’s Handmaid’s Tale, a story based on a Margaret Atwood novel, when it came out and always thought the film was underrated.  The guest director selects six films of the past that were influential on him (or her). I managed to see half of them (The Fire Within, Malle, 1963; Les Enfants Terribles, Melville, 1950; Spies, Lang, 1938), each with a generous introduction by Volker that included many anecdotes. So generous was Volker with his time, that each of these screenings backed up the schedule by a full 20 minutes, but the reflections on Louis Malle, Melville and Fritz Lang were worth it. I also grew my understanding of the impact of Sartre and existentialism on French and German filmmakers in the 1950s.  In short, The Fire Within was fascinating and depressing; Les Enfants Terribles was fascinating and brilliant; and Spies was fascinating and entertaining.  They also screened a film Volker directed (which I saw) with Sam Shepard and a very young Julie Delpy (I think most men would want to see this just to watch her move), Voyager (1991), which was a hit in Europe but not in America. Truly it plays like a Greek tragedy, probably the reason for its lack of acceptance in the good ole USA. I thought strongly of Oedipus, with Sam Shepard exuding an American engineer’s hubristic view of the world. Yes, the gods were unfair in what they exacted. That is why it is a tragedy. Also a great travel movie. Alas it is only available in Region 2 DVD.
     The Docs!  Documentaries take up a modest size room at the festival. I caught Mifune, which was standard and straightforward. It allowed me to gaze upon the film star whom I have had a crush on since I was 16 years old. The film suffered from not enough film clips but Toho studios restricted access.  Worth a rental on a slow Sunday afternoon. A notch above was Chasing Trane, more for those who need an introduction to John Coltrane than an afficiando. Too many talking heads to soar but enough fun with graphics and found clips to elevate it. Good rental for a at home Friday night date with the spouse.  But my favorite was Errol Morris’ B Side: Elsa Dorfman.  This is an affectionate and intimate documentary about a portrait photographer who first sold her pictures in Harvard Square of friends and acquaintances from the poetry bookstores (e.g. Alan Ginsburg, Bob Dylan) and later worked with one of the 20x24 Polaroid cameras.  My experience of this film is colored by the Q & A with Erroll and Elsa, who are friends and neighbors, and watching her use the 20x24 Polaroid camera in a studio next to the theatre. Maybe this is a baby boomer’s reaction, but I could not help but feel the pull to those times, the loss of film as an artform. I was deeply affected. The page has turned, but the light of Elsa still warms a hearth.