Festival director Bero Beyer found it difficult to choose eight films to nominate for the Hivos Tiger Award. After all, what makes a film special? According to Beyer, film drama calls A woman, a Part by Elisabeth Subrin evokes a sense of nostalgia and is also outspoken, bold and, above all, human.
The #IFFR-check by Culture Press is that A Woman, a Part especially drawn-out and certainly not daring.
Feminism plays an important role in film artist Subrin's work. Also A Woman, a Part deals with this theme. Main character Anna, television star (Maggie Siff known from Mad Men) is overworked and is taking a time-out. We follow her account. Subrin wants to portray her as a complex woman: a star, a workaholic, a drug addict and an independent personality.
Her vulnerability raises questions. That's fine, but within the reality of the film it doesn't convince. Anna is tragicomic when she throws film scripts into her swimming pool with her nose full of coke, chaotic when she loses her keys, impulsive when she unceremoniously dives into bed with the key man, and depressed when she wanders aimlessly through New York. She shows firmness in rejecting advances from her former colleagues Kate (Cara Seymour) and Isaac (John Ortiz), but is this feminist? The uninspired atmospheric images of New York add little. Remarkably, Siff's acting is too technical in contrast to the warm-hearted acting of her antagonists. Then prefer an episode of the series Sex, and the City. Never boring, higher feminist content with independent women.
A #IFFR-Tiger that does penetrate you and is worthy of Tiger Wards is Oscuro Animal Colombian director Felipe Guerrero's film debut
In this haunting film, three women escape the Colombian jungle war. Rocío has just done the laundry and notices that her husband and two sons are gone. The village is raided by paramilitaries. Along the way, her bus is also besieged and she takes a girl under her wing. The sick young woman La Noma is raped by her husband, who is a paramilitary. She stabs him to death and flees. The Barbie dolls in her bag reflect her lost youth. Paramilitary Nelsa, who is also abused (by her colleagues), deserts.
The tableau-like film footage in which no words are spoken tests your capacity for empathy. You want the victims in all these dangerous and deeply sad situations to express themselves with words. That this never happens creates a constant threat. The at times horrifying images are given extra charge by the excellent introverted acting of the three actresses. Their cries of anguish cut it. Certainly, by the end, the lethargic suffering of the sick La Noma becomes too much for you. You want to drop out, but keep watching this fascinating, silent film full of misery.