The Coraline Effect

SO THIS IS MORE LIKE IT.

Let me backtrack a bit. Every year, the Northwest Film Center puts
on the Portland International Film Festival (PIFF)—a massive,
ungainly blob of cinema from all over the world. For steadfast devotees
of the Northwest Film Center, PIFF is the highlight of the year. For
everyone else, it more or less doesn’t exist.

Facts are facts: Despite cramming a ridiculous number of
hard-to-find films into a relatively short timeframe, PIFF simply isn’t
on the radar for most Portlanders. One can blame the marketing, the
venues, or the films, but regardless: While PIFF has always had the
potential to be one of Portland’s defining arts events, instead, it’s
usually content to shuffle past in the background, largely
unnoticed.

But this year, people are talking about PIFF—and more
surprisingly, talking about going. Admittedly, this shift is mostly due
to one movie, and one that, it should be noted, is hardly
representative of PIFF as a whole. But still, this marks a pretty
important departure from PIFF’s staid status quo—and offers some
hope that this year, PIFF might become the film festival that Portland
deserves. Call it the Coraline Effect.

LAIKA ROLLING STONE

The Northwest Film Center has never selected PIFF’s films based on
premiere status—instead, they book films that have already made
their rounds on the festival circuit. They also rarely select films
based on whether or not they’ll pull crowds—instead, they usually
show little-known flicks from countries most famous for their waffles,
or the sort of movies you’d take your mom to if she were in town.
(Regarding the former, this year’s PIFF program touts Eldorado,
“a droll and idiosyncratic addition to the Belgian noir tradition”
[fucking seriously?]. Regarding the latter, and based on my intimate
experiences with her, I’d say it’s a pretty good bet your mom will love
Taiwan’s Cape No. 7, a “heartwarming tale of music and
longing.”) But while many PIFF films seem to be chosen with the
Matlock set in mind, the fest deserves credit for taking steps
to broaden their audience in recent years—and nowhere is this
more evident than with this year’s opening film, Coraline, which
seems a clear attempt to make PIFF more relevant and welcoming.

Let’s put it this way: Coraline is not a droll addition to
the genre of Belgian film noir. Instead, the 3D, stop-motion animated
film is based on a book by Neil Gaiman, helmed by The Nightmare
Before Christmas‘ genius director Henry Selick, and is the first
feature from Laika, the animation studio in Northwest Portland that
used to be Will Vinton Studios, back before Nike kazillionaire Phil
Knight bought it, fired Vinton, and got into the movie business.
Seventy million dollars later, Laika has produced the gorgeous,
inventive, and melancholy Coraline—a film that’s fantastic
to look at, gives Pixar a run for its money in the creativity
department, and reminds everyone how cool animation used to look in
those prehistoric days before CG.

Coraline is a huge deal for the local film scene—and
snagging the premiere is a huge deal for PIFF, which is outfitting the
Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall with digital projection in order to host
the film’s red-carpet premiere on February 5. Coraline opens
nationwide the next day—which is also when PIFF begins in
earnest, showcasing almost 80 features and 37 short films.

NOTHING AGAINST BELGIAN NOIR

I’ll admit to my weaknesses—one of them being that if you show
me a phrase like “the Belgian noir tradition,” I’ll inevitably make fun
of it. (I can help doing so no more than I can resist making stupid
puns about Laika and rolling stones. Apologies.) But snark aside,
there’s some genuinely cool stuff at PIFF this year: Check out Uli
Edel’s The Baader Meinhof Complex (Germany), a smart, visceral
thriller about left-wing terrorists the Red Army Faction. Also see
Matteo Garrone’s Gomorrah (Italy), a brutal, sprawling epic
about gangsters and wannabe gangsters in Naples. There’s also the
impressive “urban fairytale” Mermaid (Russia), and the excellent
baseball drama Sugar (United States), which comes from directors
Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, who last made 2006’s phenomenal “My teacher
smokes crack!” drama Half Nelson.

Meanwhile: First-time director Steve McQueen scored accolades at
Cannes for his raw, depressing-as-hell Hunger (Great Britain),
about the Irish Republican Army’s 1981 hunger strike; low-key comedy
O’Horten (Norway) is offbeat and charming without being twee;
and Dream Weavers: Beijing 2008 (China) documents the Beijing
Olympics, from “the grueling regime of young female gymnasts” to “the
training of the Beijing SWAT team.” There’s also Sundance fave King
of Ping Pong (Sweden), which (A) should get some sort of prize for
having the goofiest-sounding foreign-language title (dude!
“Ping-pongkingen” was totally the name of my junior high
prog-rock band!), and (B) sounds like a promising drama about a tubby
teenager who, despite his family troubles, “rules all” at ping
pong.

Obviously, once Coraline‘s end credits roll, you’ll need to
shift gears a bit—PIFF won’t be showing many other films with
Hollywood-sized budgets, or that won’t require you to put on your
subtitle-readin’ glasses, or that were made next door to your
apartment. (Though there is one program of shorts—Short Cuts
II: Oregon Made—that will show off a bit more of Portland’s
homebrewed cinema.) Still, while Coraline will undoubtedly put
asses in the seats, those who stick around afterward will find other
worthwhile stuff to watch.

The Mercury has been pretty critical of PIFF over the past
few years, and only partially because Belgian noir is such an easy
target. No—mostly we grumble because year after year, it’s
frustrating to catch glimpses of how kickass PIFF could be if it was an
event the city cared about. When PIFF does stretch its resources,
expand its focus, and seek out new audiences—as they’re doing
with Coraline—the festival can be one of Portland’s most
unique and rewarding experiences. Here’s hoping that this year, one
high-profile film will introduce Portlanders to everything else that
PIFF does—and could—offer.