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thegreenhorseman · 4 years

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Today would have been Blade’s 12th birthday.

I may have lost the physical entity that was Warrior’s Blade, but blessed beyond words to see him as he was. I have some wonderful memories that will stay with me for my lifetime.

For his birthday I want to take some time to remember him and share with you some stories that you may not have known.

Blade had a rough start in life; he was born with a limb deformity. His front right leg was badly misaligned…twisted from what I understand (I was not there). The vets and staff took great care of him in trying to fix it through a surgical correction called transphyseal bridging.

During the transphyseal bridging process the vet placed a pin in the upper growth plate of his canon bone. The pin was intended to slow the growth and allow the lower growth plate to speed up and thus straighten the leg. Once they were satisfied with the correction they removed the pin. The cast removal had also taken some skin with it so he forever had a white-haired scar on the inside of his leg by the time I met him seven years later.

Blade grew up and from what I’m told he was an obnoxious young man until the day they gelded him. He was trained for the racetrack and on July 16th, 2011 debuted in race 5 at Suffolk Downs. The poor guy didn’t stand a chance, finishing 32 1/4 strides behind winners Cold Shot and Get Back Jack. On July 30th he came in 64 lengths behind Donna’s Glitter. On his forth race September 6th he broke from the gate first, led the field for the first quarter. By halfway he fell to second and finished the race 7th in a field of 9. His final two races he continued to start well. He launched from the gate and ran strong in the front for a half mile but ended the race so slowly he was recorded as “did not finish.”

Jack, Blade’s original owner realized he wasn’t cut out for the races. After six failed starts Blade went to live in Connecticut (I think?) for a couple years where he trail rode. In a year or two, he returned to his birth home in Fort Edward, NY where he lived a few years waiting to find me.

In 2015 I was on top of the world. I had an excellent career started as a salesperson with a chemistry-based consumables company. When I wasn’t traveling I taught kickboxing-style classes, taught a couple private clients, and assisted with krav maga classes. I was helping with our women’s self-defense class when one of our students reached out to me about horses. I hadn’t ridden horses in years…I loved them, but they were on the back burner during that phase of life. They told me about this horse that was looking for a home and showed me a picture.

I’ve been offered horses in the past. I have worked to ride my entire life up until that day. I worked to ride when I was 10. I worked to ride throughout college. Hell, I still work to ride today. I know the work and money required to have a horse and I’ve been able to (sadly) turn them down because of it. Something about Blade drew me. It was just a photo but I had a feeling in my gut. It kept nagging at me for a week or so.

I met him.

I spent an hour with him. I lunged him and he offered me join-up. He followed me around the ring off the lead. When I returned him to his paddock he looked back at me and watched me leave.

Then I returned and rode him.

I took a few more lessons on him. At this point he saw me and eagerly walked over, happily leaving his two pasture mates.

I made plans, called a friend, and brought him home on July 3, 2015.

Our life together began with a hoof abscess that very weekend. I learned how to soak and wrap a hoof.

The July heat and the stress of moving also gave him ulcers. We treated him for those too.

A couple months later we moved barns due to the drama at our first farm.

Our new farm was home for a few years and that’s where we developed our strong bond.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

Blade took pleasure in making me earn everything. He also had a new “neurosis of the week.” Sometimes he hated his ears touched. Other times he loved it. Sometimes he didn’t mind a bath. Other times the hose was a snake that would surely swallow him whole.

He was known to be the messiest horse at the barn and his stall was always filthy. If we didn’t clean his stall properly he’d tell us so with a tactfully placed manure pile in one of his two water buckets. He’s also pooped in his food bucket on the floor as if to say, “it’s high time you scrub this bucket clean, mom. I deserve a clean food dish”

One of Blade’s vets once told me he was the most expressive horse she had ever met. I believe that to be true. He always told you how he felt about something. For example, he was especially opposed to rain. When it rained on summer days the horses still got turn-out….and Blade disliked that most. He would stand with his head hanging feeling sorry for himself. Meanwhile, his mustang pasture-mate loved the rain.

I artfully overthought and over-managed him at the beginning. An overbearing helicopter mom with good intentions I had a spreadsheet made of the feed options and spent hours (more like days/weeks) of research deciding how to best feed him. I made supplement containers for the multitude of supplements he received.

I also made a lot of mistakes that you don’t typically learn until you make them yourself.

I once “safety tied” Blade to a gate one afternoon to groom him. Something bothered him and he pulled back. The gate moved slightly toward him. I tried to reach the safety release but it was too tight and Blade decided he wasn’t having it. Before I could blink an eye he ripped the gate with the 4×4 it was attached to out of the ground and proceeded to haul it like a kite throughout the barnyard.

He crashed through another gate into a paddock and tore around the paddock in a panic. There was nothing I could do but try to act calmly as I watched my beloved horse try to kill himself with the metal gate chasing him. I finally talked him down and he stopped long enough for me to approach and remove his lead. I assessed and to my relief the only damage was the obliterated gate and fence. Fences and gates can be repaired and I called the barn owner right away.

The barn owner came and I helped him make the repairs. He was surprisingly relaxed and forgiving about the situation.

From then on I never tied to gates and always used baling twine or a tie blocker ring.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes.

He has forgiven me for all of them.

Another story I remember rather fondly came while I was free lunging him in the outdoor arena. He loved to run and the ground was flat and sandy for him to do just that. He’d practice his “starts” by starting at one end; he got to top speed and halted fast at the other end. Then he’d take off from the other end. He held his tail high and pranced with such pride you’d think he was Shêtân the black stallion.

We had a small pony mare at the farm named Lulu. She was a stunning blue roan and Blade loved her. One day while he was running free I watched in astonishment as he galloped straight for the fence, did not slow, and launched.

Blade hurdled and cleared the 50-inch top rail of the outdoor arena with ease. On the other side, Blade ran to accompany his little Lulu who was in the adjoining paddock.

I rode him in lessons with my trainer for a while. He loved to do canter poles. He even tackled the more complicated setups on the first try.

One winter Blade slipped on ice. I watched his legs swing out from under him and he landed on his side. He got up but wasn’t 100% sound. We gave him stall rest and the vet came out in the next couple of days when he hadn’t recovered.

Without any costly procedures (they wanted to use their new bone scan machine but that meant a trailer ride and a few days in the hospital) we decided to keep him on stall rest and revisit in a month. We suspected a possible fracture to the hip, and the hind end is a difficult area to image given its mass. He was mobile and the prescription for such an injury was stall rest.

Blade spent a month inside and after a few weeks was able to get hand walked. I purchased a Back on Track sheet and in another week the vet was satisfied with his progress to allow supervised turnout in a small round-pen. Blade was thrilled.

Eventually, he was given the clear to begin walking rides. Then trot. Finally, we were back to full riding.

All was well…Blade continued his usual antics.

Blade spooked at the object he had passed 10 times prior often. He also chose random objects to suddenly spook at…I think for the fun of it. My trainer often gave me kudos for my sticky seat. When Blade spooked it was a 180-degree turn. When I did fall I often landed on my feet.

He once spooked when another horse knocked the rail it was jumping with its hoof. The hoof didn’t hit the jump hard enough to knock the pole down but it made a noise…and Blade was displeased.

A couple years in we went through a phase. Blade began to buck…not a physical issue but a behavioral one. For about a month I’d fall at least once or twice every ride. It came to a point when I didn’t even want to ride anymore.

Blade also made me chase him in the field, once for an hour or more. He lifted his tail in happy rebellion. It was a game for him.

I began to reconsider being his owner. I searched for avenues to unload him. Maybe give him back? Offer him to a rescue? Ask a non-riding therapy program to take him?

I learned Clinton Anderson’s groundwork and that saved our relationship going forward.

I taught him to lunge with respect. To back up. To yield the hindquarters. The real magic came when he yielded his forehand to me. The day I taught him that was the day I truly earned his respect and our relationship became a permanent bond.

He was better in his lessons. Still played the “catch me game” in the field but not as badly. He was normally happy to see me.

As time passed, however, it became evident that his body wasn’t tolerating being back into full work. One day during a lesson he began to hop, buck, and flying lead change. This time his bucks and hops were not behavioral…they were physical. It was clear to us he could not get comfortable at the canter.

I began riding my trainer’s horses while Blade became a companion. It was difficult for me but necessary since his body could not handle my increasing level of riding.

While Blade was a companion horse I began to learn liberty with him. It wasn’t long before I had Blade trotting and cantering circles around me without a lunge line.

This was also the time I taught Blade to hug, to kiss, and to bow.

Hugging my grandma

We did things together regardless of his ability to ride.

After about a year I began to get on him for 20-30 minute walk/trot rides. He handled it well. I often got on him bareback and practiced my seat.

In 2018 I moved Blade home. The 24-hour turnout on an incline significantly improved his overall physical comfort.

That summer Blade cantered sound for the first time in 18 months. I never had an issue with his soundness once he came home. He even returned to canter poles….his favorite.

Blade loved being home. He loved to see me every day. He still played the chase me game. He would run to the opposite end of the paddock, stop, and stare at me. I finally learned that when he turned toward me he was looking for an invitation. He didn’t WANT to be CAUGHT. He WANTED to be INVITED.

It took me 4 years to figure this out.

When he turned his head toward me after his initial flee I would stop. While still facing him I would back up and draw him in. He would begin walking toward me and I’d turn around and start walking away. Before I got to the gate Blade would be by my side.

At the end of 2019 I brought Tiger (R Tom Cat) home. Tiger, as you know, is an exquisite, handsome, and sound thoroughbred. He competed in Kentucky. He came trained already for jumping. I built jumps and jumped him once or twice a week at home.

One day I chose to take Blade for a ride. I still had some small cross-rails set up….maybe a foot high tops. Low enough to step over for sure. In a fleeting moment, I opted to turn Blade toward the cross-rail and see how he’d react. He trotted right over the cross-rail as if he knew how all along.

Wow. That wasn’t so bad.

On the next go-round, I had planned to travel right past the rails. I didn’t want to push him and didn’t have any crazy ideas of making him a jumper. Blade tried aiming himself for the jump. He wanted it. He listened to me and we skipped it but I let him take it another time after that. In the weeks following Blade started doing small jumps. Verticals and cross-rails no higher than 18.”

I have never seen Blade more proud and happy….and he felt great.

Tiger pulled a shoe the week of our first hunter pace together. On a whim, I chose to take Blade bringing zero expectations for him besides a nice trail ride. Blade happily took every log jump along the course (and I chose not to jump any brick walls) since they were low and unthreatening. At the photo jump I had no expectations. He was historically spooky and the jump, of course, is a “looky” jump.

Things were going well so I figured we’d give it our best try at the very least.

First attempt. Refusal.

Second attempt. Refusal.

I pulled to the side, let him watch the next group jump it. Gave him a pep talk. We cantered toward the jump and right as he started thinking about refusing I told him “No, you can do this.”

Blade continued forward and we took the jump. Halfway over he threw his front legs forward and saw the scary items below him. The first photos were beautiful. The second half hilarious…and after the jump?

Photos courtesy of Brian Wilcox at www.connecticutphoto.com

Blade was on top of the world. I was proud. He was proud. I leaned forward and cheered him on.

Photos courtesy of Brian Wilcox at www.connecticutphoto.com

NEVER EVER had I dreamed I’d be able to do this with Blade and WE DID IT.

AND BLADE LOVED IT.

Blade was incredibly smart, sensitive, and had an enormous heart. He gave me everything he had and did it passionately. He wasn’t exactly gentle but he was kind.

Our last couple of years together transformed both him and I for the better. Those last few years we shared the same language without speaking a word. I am not the same person I was and he was an entirely different horse than the one I adopted in 2015.

Making memories for my cousins, nieces, and nephews

Black Beauty was my favorite book growing up and I adopted my first horse…my own black beauty.

I became a better rider, better horseman, and better human for Blade.

I followed my dreams and continue to look to the stars as I reach my goals.

I was a horse lover my whole life…I began riding at 10…I worked to ride before…but Blade was the true catalyst that started my life with horses.

Folks, follow your dreams.

That’s the motto that joined us on every ride and it will continue to be a part of us as Tiger, Nahe, and I embark on our future path.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLADE, YOU ARE FOREVER LOVED AND DEARLY MISSED

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Remembering Blade Today would have been Blade's 12th birthday. I may have lost the physical entity that was Warrior's Blade, but blessed beyond words to see him as he was.

#Blade #Horse #Horses #InLovingMemory #TheGreenHorseman #WarriorsBlade

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thegloober · 6 years

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RIFF 2018: Woman at War, Jonas Mekas Exhibition and Camilla Strøm Henriksen on Phoenix

by Matt Fagerholm

October 8, 2018 |

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“You know who would’ve loved this movie? Roger Ebert!” declared Anne Hubbell, founder of Tangerine Entertainment, during our chat at the Reykjavík International Film Festival. She was discussing Yann Gonzalez’s cheerfully blood-spattered melodrama “Knife + Heart,” and I couldn’t help agreeing with her, considering Ebert’s love of Brian De Palma and bold genre mash-ups including his own, “Beyond the Valley of the Dolls.” A day after I posted my enthusiastic review of the picture, Hubbell and her fellow jury members gave “Knife + Heart” RIFF’s top prize—the Golden Puffin, awarded to first or second-time directors—praising Gonzalez’s ability to defy labels “using confidence, humor and a thrilling juxtaposition of love and loss.” Earning a Special Mention was “Styx,” Wolfgang Fischer’s riveting thriller about the refugee crisis that is still in the running for the LUX Prize, presented in November by the European Parliament. Nominated alongside it is Benedikt Erlingsson’s “Woman at War,” a superlative example of Icelandic cinema, showcasing not only the landscape’s distinctive beauty but also its inherent drama.

Through various tourist sites are accessible by road along the country’s perimeter, the vast majority of Iceland consists of uninhabited terrain, with sand and volcanic glass covering a desert terrain well over 12,000 miles in size. This is the sort of desolate locale ripe for a suspenseful set-piece, and as Halla—the notorious activist in Erlingsson’s film—scampered about its rugged surface, outwitting every helicopter and drone aiming to take her down, I was reminded of Cary Grant’s infamous battle with the deadly crop-duster in Hitchcock’s “North by Northwest.” As played by Halldóra Geirharðsdóttir with winning perseverance and warm eyes that can fire daggers without warning, Halla is a woman after Mildred Hayes’ heart, so determined to raise awareness about industrial corruption that she has no qualms with torpedoing a few power lines in the process.

When she marches toward the camera to a quirky militaristic anthem evocative of “Moonrise Kingdom” during the opening credits, the camera pans over to reveal a three-piece band performing the soundtrack live. This conceit soon proves to be much more than a one-time sight gag a la Count Basie’s cameo in “Blazing Saddles,” as the musicians repeatedly materialize along with a Greek chorus of sorts, embodying the conscience and tireless spirit of Geirharðsdóttir’s protagonist in melodic form. The score by Davíð Þór Jónsson, who also composed the music for Erlingsson’s previous festival favorite, “Of Horses and Men,” ranks among the year’s best, emerging as a literal character in the movie without diffusing any tension or emotional nuance. Geirharðsdóttir is equally delightful as Halla’s twin sister, Ása, a bohemian yoga instructor whose dislike of extremism may make her an unlikely ally in her sibling’s uncompromising crusade.

Halla’s rage at profit-driven forces threatening to forfeit our survival by ruining the environment beyond repair couldn’t be timelier, especially when the government attempts to antagonize her by claiming that she has declared war on working people (there are echoes here of Trump’s motives behind championing the coal industry). How Erlingsson and co-writer Ólafur Egilsson go about tackling this topic is by turns poignant and comedic, leading to some well-earned moments of catharsis that had me cheering, such as when Halla—clad in a Nelson Mandela mask—yanks a drone out of the sky before smashing it to bits. Her ambivalence toward bringing new life into the world has caused her to put plans for adoption on hold, but when a four-year-old girl is left orphaned by the war in Ukraine, her attitude toward the future begins to shift. The film’s lyrical final shot comes as close to encapsulating mankind’s current self-imposed predicament as any I’ve seen in 2018.

Photo of Jonas Mekas by Joanna Kedzierska.

Jonas Mekas, the godfather of American avant-garde cinema whose diaristic chronicling of everyday life predated the modern internet by several decades, was set to be RIFF’s Guest of Honor until ill health caused him to reluctantly cancel. The 95-year-old auteur was still eager to conduct his scheduled masterclass vila Skype, and his exuberance was euphoric to behold. At one point striking a kung fu pose, Mekas displayed the energy of a man one-fifth his age, consistently punctuating the word “cinema” with an exclamation point. He rejects work that lingers on misery, opting to continue crafting “a celebration of life on this planet.”

Born in Lithuania a day before Christmas, Mekas vividly recalled in a 2015 interview how his brother gave him a still camera on his birthday, which just so happened to be the same week that Russian tanks rolled into his country. His first-ever pictures were taken of the tanks, causing a disgruntled lieutenant to rip the camera from his hands and destroy the footage. After being imprisoned for eight months with his brother in a labor camp, they eventually settled in New York, where the filmmaker still lives today. With online media liberating his intuitive creativity just as it did for David Lynch, Mekas launched his own site in 2006, where his experimental uploads continue to push the form in provocative ways. I particularly love his manifesto on the eternal youth of cinema, produced in honor of its centennial, where he insists that the art form can never age because “it is always beginning.” He considers his camera an extension of his hand, and will continue to use the same one until it needs to be replaced (he currently operates a GoPro).

Like a Flower in a Field, Mekas’ first solo exhibition in Iceland, debuted two days prior to the masterclass at Reykjavík’s Ásmundarsalur art gallery. Skillfully curated by Francesco Urbano Ragazzi, the exhibition featured three monitors compiling excerpts of the filmmaker’s online diaries. Likening the sprouting of flora in New York with the spontaneity of his artistry, Ragazzi selected 45 images of flowers captured in Mekas’ work to align the gallery windows, bathing the white-walled room in colorful light. A collection of handwritten statements from the director also covered the walls, my favorite being, “We do not need perfection! We need nervous breakdowns!”

Perfection certainly wouldn’t be the word to describe the masterclass itself, which was marred by poor reception that rendered Mekas’ answers nearly unintelligible. Every time his voice cut out, I silently recited the Icelandic mantra taught to me by the festival’s indispensable guest coordinator, Martiina Putnik: “þetta reddast,” meaning, “Oh well, it will work itself out somehow!” And work itself out it did, thanks in large part to Mekas’ indomitable spirit. So expressive were his gesticulations and jovial grins that they told us everything we needed to know, even when his words were obscured. He loved interacting with the audience, waving to each of us on the monitor as the camera scanned the crowd. I asked him about his belief in the importance of changing one’s mind—which he memorably voiced in defense of Paris Hilton—and how the chronically divided American populace could benefit from this perspective. This question elicited one of Mekas’ most animated responses, arguing that we are doomed to rot if we remain stuck in one way of thinking. He concluded the Q&A by taking a recording the audience with his GoPro (pictured above), making us the latest addition to his intimate oeuvre.

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Among the best movies I saw at RIFF was “Phoenix,” the first directorial feature effort of Norwegian actress-turned-filmmaker, Camilla Strøm Henriksen. She made her film debut in Martin Asphaug’s acclaimed 1989 drama, “A Handful of Time,” for which she earned the Best Actress prize at Norway’s Amanda Awards. During our chat at RIFF, Henriksen credited the picture with bringing a new energy to her nation’s cinema, increasing the number of high-quality films that were made there. Her interest in directing spawned from her frustration with the acting business and the difficulty in acquiring good roles, ultimately finding that she preferred telling stories rather than acting in them. Henriksen’s extensive experience in directing television, including over 100 episodes of Scandinavia’s longest-running soap, “Hotel Cæsar,” was an ideal training ground for the tight turnaround of independent filmmaking, since it required her to shoot a great deal in a small span of time, moving fast while being clear with her intentions.

The heroine of “Phoenix” is Jill (Ylva Bjørkaas Thedin), a girl on the cusp of celebrating her 14th birthday, whose unstable mother (Maria Bonnevie) and estranged father (Sverrir Gudnason) have caused her to become the sole parental figure in her family. Jill’s younger brother, Bo (Casper Falck-Løvås), may be pint-sized, but he’s also wise behind his years, able to see directly through the lies he’s fed. Henriksen first began developing “Phoenix” 12 years ago, around the same time I began my career as a published film critic. Both of us have vivid memories of seeing Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 masterpiece, “Pan’s Labyrinth” on the big screen for the first time, an experience that Henriksen found immensely influential as she crafted her own psychological portrait of a young girl.

“I saw it eight times and loved it, even though fantasy is not really my kind of thing at all,” Henriksen told me. “I was inspired by how seamlessly the director blended fantasy with melodrama full of pathos. My grandparents had worked in puppet theatre, and I grew up with the Norwegian fairy tales that they performed. The monsters in these stories externalized the fear of things in life that are too terrifying for children to fully comprehend. I thought that element would fit naturally into this family drama, where we are authentic in the psychology without allowing it to become the sort of social realist picture that bores me to death. Having the story be viewed from Jill’s heightened and subjective point-of-view is what draws in the audience. She has a very strong ambivalence toward her mother. In a way, she hates her and deep down, wants her dead, but that’s something she could never admit to herself. That little monster in the film externalizes her resentment and fear of her mother—all these feelings that are still undigested.”

Henriksen makes a point of not specifying the insidious disorder afflicting Jill’s mother, and says that no particular research was needed since the story was based on events from her own childhood. Her years of therapy have been immensely helpful, serving as a form of research by teaching her so much about herself. In terms of understanding the mind of an actor, Henriksen draws from her own personal experiences as well. She is well aware of how actors must bare their souls onscreen, and won’t be able to do so unless they feel they are in safe hands. Thedin’s remarkably assured and unmannered debut performance is a testament not only to her talent but the mastery of Henriksen’s direction.

“From the moment we first met, Ylva had this wonderful open curiosity about her,” said Henriksen. “Not only did she have an intuitive understanding of drama, she also had a great sense of empathy that really touched me. That wasn’t something that I was specifically looking for, but I realized when I met Ylva that this quality is important for the role of Jill. She taught me a lot, actually, because I initially had been looking to cast children whom you could sense were carrying a big burden. Both Ylva and Casper are very resourceful and you feel that they will survive even as their parents go under. The film is an ode to the strength and courage of children. I wanted to show that in a truthful way without being simplistic. There is no clear solution for their plight, but they have each other.”

Swedish production designer Eva Norén, whose credits include Tomas Alfredson’s 2008 landmark, “Let the Right One In,” collaborated with Henriksen to find subtle ways in expressing the characters’ inner journey through the mise-en-scène. Nearly the entire first half is set within the family’s claustrophobic loft, aside from one entrancing sequence set in Jill’s class, where she develops a crush on the boy seated next to her. The educational rainforest footage projected onto the screen before them makes it appear as if they being doused with water, a deft metaphor for the bracing sensations being felt by the girl.

“It’s the one moment where Jill finds a window to the world opening up,” noted Henriksen. “So much of her focus is inwards, since her life is centered around taking care of her family, while trying to get her mother on her feet. She has very little space to actually dream or invest in her own life—in a life that is outside the world of the family. With her mother planning for a job interview and her father due to arrive home in time for her birthday, Jill is now clinging to enough hope that enables her to have a moment of freedom. That scene in class is where she finally opens herself up to something else—her own sexuality—before her hopes are crushed. The subtlety with which this is conveyed came about through the writing process. Though the shooting script was quite close to the first draft, it came together only after a great deal of decluttering. I knew in my heart what I wanted the ending to be, but I didn’t trust it until that last draft.”

“Phoenix” will be released this Friday, October 12th, in Norway, and it is my deep hope that the film will receive the U.S. distribution it deserves. In my review published during the festival, I likened the film to Charles Laughton’s 1955 knockout, “The Night of the Hunter,” an enduring classic that I was delighted to hear Henriksen cite among her chief references. The haunting rendition of “Fly Me To The Moon” sung by a young girl over the end credits reminded me the famous sequence in Laughton’s film, where little orphaned Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce, dubbed by Betty Benson) comforts her brother by singing “Once Upon a Time There Was A Pretty Fly” as they sail along a river at night. Whereas Robert Mitchum’s sociopath-in-preacher’s clothing was the evil force tearing apart the children’s family, in the case of “Phoenix,” it is the even scarier scourge of mental illness.

“My music supervisor, Goran Obad, and I thought it would be lovely to have a young girl singing at the end,” recalled Henriksen. “We wanted somebody who sung well, but not too well—who didn’t hit all the notes. So he found a 14-year-old girl who isn’t an established star, but is obviously a good singer, as you hear during the credits. What I hope the song conveys is that the children were able to take something positive from their parents. Jill and Casper share a resourcefulness and an ability to express love that is, in some way, indicative of how they were brought up. Even though it’s going to be hard for them moving forward, they will be able to find joy in life.”

If I were asked to compare RIFF to any previous festival I’ve attended, the closest equivalent would be Ebertfest, the jubilant movie marathon annually held at Roger Ebert’s alma mater in Champaign, Illinois. Both events prioritize the moviegoing experience above all else, and celebrities are invited not to promote a project but to have their work honored. The stars aren’t on hand for interview opportunities, but that makes one’s interactions with them all the more meaningful. Mads Mikkelsen, recipient of this year’s Creative Excellence Award, chatted with me about how his brilliant 2012 collaboration with director Thomas Vinterberg, “The Hunt,” has become all the more radical in our current sociopolitical climate, challenging us to break the stigmas surrounding what can and cannot be discussed in regards to allegations of abuse. I treasured the opportunity to tell honorary guest and jury member Shailene Woodley that her performance in James Ponsoldt’s 2013 gem, “The Spectacular Now,” is one of the best I’ve ever seen. As the camera holds on her character during the film’s breathtaking final moment, every conflicted feeling she harbors for her ex ripples across her face, suggesting the many directions she could go, none of which are guaranteed.

After Helga Stephenson, former head of the Toronto International Film Festival and mentor to RIFF festival director Hrönn Marínósdóttir, was honored at a festive ceremony, she spoke with me about her fond memories of Ebert, whom she knew since the late ’70s. The tribute to Stephenson was held at Bessastaðir, the residence of Icelandic president Guðni Thorlacius Jóhannesson. When I got the chance to meet the president, I told him how refreshing it was to see a literate head of state who was knowledgable about history, supports universal health care and speaks in complete sentences. He savored every last one of my well-deserved compliments, asking me to “please continue,” before getting swept back up into the crowd. Photographer Donald Gíslason, a longtime friend of Guy Maddin’s, had endless great stories to share about Icelandic culture and the vibrant history of the festival, which has always taken full advantage of its natural surroundings (back in 2015, a screening took place in a “secret cave”). I also must give special thanks to photographer Joanna Kedzierska for her excellent film recommendations, her impromptu tour of Reykjavík’s nightlife and most of all, her friendship.

During my daily strolls to screenings at the Bíó Paradís, I passed a costumed singer (pictured above) who serenaded passersby with beautiful tunes, one of which moved me so deeply that it became the official anthem of my entire trip. “Goodnight, Irene,” the American folk standard first recorded by Huddie ‘Lead Belly’ Ledbetter, nailed the bittersweetness I felt as one of the greatest adventures of my life came to a close. As the plane lifted off the runway at Keflavík Airport, taking me back to a country of toxic 24-hour news cycles and misogynistic Supreme Court justices, my paraphrased version of Ledbetter’s song ran through my mind…

Goodbye, Iceland

I’ll see you in my dreams

Next Article: NYFF 2018: Ray & Liz, Asako I & II, Hotel by the River Previous Article: NYFF 2018: Divide and Conquer, What You Gonna Do When the World’s on Fire?, Film Noir Revivals

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Source: https://bloghyped.com/riff-2018-woman-at-war-jonas-mekas-exhibition-and-camilla-strom-henriksen-on-phoenix/

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mrmichaelchadler · 6 years

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RIFF 2018: Woman at War, Jonas Mekas Exhibition and Camilla Strøm Henriksen on Phoenix

Photo of Jonas Mekas by Joanna Kedzierska.

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Goodbye, Iceland

I’ll see you in my dreams

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from All Content https://ift.tt/2QvJk26

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