I started my second day in Toronto at the Doc Shop scrolling through films and doing some research for a project I'm programming in the Gulf region. Again, this kind of access for me is worth the price of admission in attending something like Hot Docs--fabulous.
After downing a "cleansing" smoothie that tasted like dirt, I dipped into the theater once again for another flick. At 1:30 on a lovely spring weekday the 300-seat venue was packed with spectators. The New Zealand director of The Art Star and the Sudanese Twins (both the title and the image, at left, were a large part of what drew me in), Pietra Brettkelly is an extremely prolific filmmaker. However, I don't really know her work; this was the first film that I've ever seen of hers (she's made ten films before this one). Yet, I quickly felt that I was in the hands of a master storyteller and the cinematography by Jacob Bryant is first-rate. The film had its North American premiere at Sundance this past January and this screening at Hot Docs was its Canadian premiere.
Not since seeing Tierney Gearon: The Mother Project, a brilliant film about another artist / mother (and I put the word "artist" first on purpose), have I been so ambivalent about my feelings towards the main subject of a nonfiction film--I love her, I hate her. I admire, I abhor. I respect, I sneer. What a fun ride. It also reminded me of Anna Broinowski's film Forbidden Lies, where filmmaker and subject perform a fascinating and complicated tango, the subject complicit in the process of telling her own "true" story. Even though we never see Brettkelly in the film, artist Vanessa Beecroft talks to her constantly throughout as if she's part of the action. She, also, constantly invites the filmmaker to accompany her wherever she goes. The filmmaker, in turn, is obviously fascinated and pulled into her subject's powerful vortex of provocation, emotional instability and artistic brilliance, willingly led on a journey that leads to unexpected places. 
In a great in-depth article in Now, a free local Toronto paper, we hear from both the director and her subject. Not surprisingly, Beecroft, a world-renowned visual artist, whose ground-breaking human installations are extraordinary for their shock value and raw depictions of victimized female beauty, feels exploited, saying that when she saw it she felt "unfairly, selectively exposed. There were no scenes of motherhood, of my devotion to my children and family [actually there were several], no nursing scenes in the US or Africa (at the time Brettkelly shot, I was still nursing my younger son) [actually there were several in Africa]; too much emphasis on the eccentricity and persistence and no idle time, which is not reality." Strange that she would be so naive about the creation of a piece of art. However, it was one over which she had no control and there's the rub, eh, Vanessa?
However, Beecroft repeatedly touts her own emotional imbalances as part of why she's such a successful artist; it's part and parcel of the work she produces. And her notions of "reality" are, admittedly, defined by those eccentricities and imbalances. For me, the subjects of cross-national, cross-racial adoption, motherhood and art, took a back seat to the fascination I had with the relationship between subject and filmmaker. It was a giant leap of faith on both their parts, and it makes for a complex and multi-layered journey. This is one of many nonfiction films I've come across recently that would exhibit fabulously in theaters.
I had to forego staying for Brettkelly's Q&A, unfortunately, so I could be on time for a panel called Iran to You, part of the Spotlight on Iran strand the festival had on offer this year. The panel was awkward and disorganized and the moderator got things off to a really wobbly start by asking a question that was misconstrued by both the panelists and the audience. It had to do with boundaries and borders and limitations--everyone in the room mistook this for yet another push towards a political discussion of what it's like living and working in today's Iran and that country's relationships and hostilities towards the West. Honestly, I forgot I was in Canada several times. Governmental and national relations between the US and Iran are tentative, filled with trepidation, distrust and a hyper-awareness of imminent armed conflict lurking uncomfortably close to the surface. This seems to be our only preoccupation with that country that offers up so many cultural riches, including the spectacular cinematic storytelling that's come out of there for several decades now.
Before we heard from each filmmaker (there were a half dozen in attendance; filmmaker Rokhsareh Ghaemmaghami, director of the brilliant Cyanosis was missing due to a denial of her visa application; she's pictured at left during the production of her short film), we saw some footage from each of the Spotlight selections. Most of the filmmakers were a bit reticent or shy to say anything at first and merely stated (some through an interpreter) that they were happy to be there to share their work.
What was really fascinating about this designated hour was the missed opportunity for discussion about the craft of filmmaking, the very thing these filmmakers were looking forward to discussing. Frustrated by the guidance of the conversation on the part of the moderator, (whom, to her credit, realized what kind of misguidance her statements had evoked and took sole responsibility for that--at one point, an audience member chastised the whole Hot Docs organization for the botched opportunity!) a panelist raised her voice in exasperation, saying, "We are not politicians; we are artists!!"
The small audience, I must admit, was equally to blame for their shortsighted and unimaginative questions that did, indeed, concentrate on the politics of Iran and what role these artists played in disseminating that information. As an American, I know that we have our own PR issues to deal with, and in a weird way, I felt a kinship with this phenomenon of being so strongly associated with your nationality. No matter what you say or do or portend to stand for, you are your country in most people's eyes and are expected to answer for your nation's missteps and political blunders. You are not an individual but a symbol, somehow, of the fundamentalist stance your political leaders display in the name of Democracy, Allah, Islam, Jesus, whatever. What a fantastic learning experience that was for me. Why is it so hard to stay focused on craft, focused on the discussion of art when faced with a nation known for its hard line, war-mongering, soul-destroying leadership?
To quote my friend and producing partner, Jenna Arnold, president of Press Play Productions, a small boutique production company that just opened offices in Dubai, UAE, "Having worked at the United Nations headquarters here in New York as an education officer for two years, and having sat in on many meetings about policy and legislation, I was never convinced that that was the direction of peacemaking. That's not going to happen at big, round tables in the UN or on the Hill [in DC]. I see it happening through art, through film, through media, through the convergence of creative voices expressing these ideas of our common humanity." I concur.
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