Vintage Violence: Arrested Memory of Brian Mulroney
While many film festivals offer predictable thrills, the Midnight Madness section at TIFF often serves as a secret gateway to truly iconoclastic cinema. It’s a place where experimental visions and delightful eccentricities spill out, uniting a collection of outcasts under a wonderfully unconventional cinematic sky.
These selections showcase a willingness to experiment with form and center unconventional characters, offering a refreshing alternative to mainstream storytelling. We recently dove into three such works that play with the fluidity of memory, the chaos of history, and the absurdities of modern life.
One standout is SABU’s “Arrested Memory,” a film that channels the aesthetics of neo-noir revenge thrillers while delivering a potent dose of physical comedy. The narrative follows a detective, Lee, who experiences extreme memory loss, thrusting him into a desperate situation. Rather than focusing on the incompetence of law enforcement, the film cleverly uses Lee’s physical abilities to explore what happens when unchecked power loses its moral center. As Lee fights against his perceived enemies, his paranoia escalates, forcing him to redefine his relationship with friend and foe alike.
The brilliance of the film lies in its irreverent tone. It masterfully uses slapstick to dissect the psychological toll of memory loss, proving that exploring complex themes doesn’t require somber reflection. The film’s inventiveness shines in its moments of absurd humor, turning a potentially heavy subject into a chaotic and engaging experience.
Equally mind-bending is Matthew Rankin’s documentary, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Brian Mulroney.” Rankin takes the documentary genre and turns it into a psychedelic journey through Canadian history and politics. By blending archival footage with experimental editing, the film transforms political speeches and debates into a chaotic, flowing experience. It reveals that history is rarely linear, offering a trippy joyride that invites viewers to reconsider the stories that shape us.
Rankin’s approach is defiantly non-linear, suggesting that the way we tell stories is often shrinking as the types of stories we see dwindle. The film doesn’t seek to provide easy answers; instead, it encourages us to engage with the chaos of the narrative, asking us to think more deeply about how we consume and discuss the events that define our world.
Rounding out this fascinating trio is Eugene Kotlyarenko’s “Vintage Violence,” a cinematic experience defined by its packed frames, cheeky humor, and Japanese puns. This lo-fi caper is an exercise in visual chaos, perfectly grounding its wild swings with the loving embodiment of its performers. The narrative follows a streamer who gets entangled in a scheme involving old-school denim and a journey to Japan, where the lines between crime, romance, and digital chaos blur delightfully.
Kotlyarenko uses new media and algorithms as a canvas, creating a world where split-screens and live streams destabilize the viewer. It’s a film that refuses to wait for you to catch up, constantly introducing new, wacky elements that redefine the rules of engagement. It stands as a testament to a uniquely transfixing vision, proving that in a world of straightforward content, there is still boundless room for visual and narrative freedom.