The 23^rd annual Palm Springs International Film Festival (PSIFF) concluded today with its Best of the Fest—the movies voted as audience favorites.  After attending for the second year in a row, I have decided the PSIFF is my favorite film festival because it makes every effort to program the best in foreign-language films. This year the festival screened 188 films from 73 countries, including 40 of the 63 entries for this year’s foreign-language Academy Award. Though its strong suit is foreign narratives, the fest also offers an excellent slate of documentaries from all over the world, a shorts program, and a handful of American independent films. Naturally, some films were better than others, and some spoke to my tastes more than others, but I can honestly say that I did not see a bad film. This year, I caught films from Columbia, Finland, Denmark, South Korea, Jordan, Israel, and Slovakia, among other countries.

It occurred to me after watching nonstop films for a couple of days that one reason I was enjoying these films so much was because many featured interesting and complex women characters. Some of these women were protagonists; others were secondary characters. Some were beautiful and glamorous; others were natural looking, even ordinary. Some were positive role models; others dark and disturbing. It is interesting to compare the women characters in these highly touted films to those in the Hollywood movies from 2011 that are currently in hot contention for awards. It seems the best chance for actresses to land a high-profile role in a Hollywood film is to play a historical figure (The Iron Lady; My Week with Marilyn) or to play extreme characters who deny or defy being women (Albert Knobs; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). Also, there are so few complex roles that decent performances by well-known actresses in rather ordinary films are winning awards or garnering nominations (The Iron Lady; Young Adult). I recognize that I am generalizing because there are exceptions to this observation regarding the lack of multifaceted female characters in Hollywood films, but wouldn’t it be nice to be able to generalize in the opposite direction.

SEBA MUBARAK STARS AS LAILA, WHO FINDS SHE CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN IN 'TRANSIT CITIES.'

In Transit Cities, a character named Laila is a beautiful, glamorous, well educated, and independent thirty-something—the kind of character one should expect in an American film. Instead, Transit Cities is directed by Mohammad Hushki of Jordan. A divorcee returning to Jordan from the U.S. after 14 years, Laila finds that Jordanian society and Muslim culture have become more conservative; her once-vibrant intellectual father is depressed and unemployed; her mother and sister wear hijabs; the local university is not impressed by her degrees; and a bank manager forces her to cover her legs with a rug when she tries to speak to him about her parents’ loan. Like other filmmakers in Middle Eastern countries, including women directors in Iran, Hushki criticizes the conservative changes in his country regarding women, simply by presenting them. Yet, despite the film’s depiction of a specific time and place, its storyline is universal enough to appeal to anyone who has returned home only to feel like a stranger. Hushki immerses us in a strong sense of place with stunningly beautiful views of Amman, Jordan—important in understanding the character’s difficulties but also her love for her hometown.

IN THIS DISTURBING PSYCHODRAMA, IT IS DIFFICULT TO DETERMINE WHO THE 'BEAST' REALLY IS.

In contrast, the Danish drama Beast offers an unlikable but interesting female character in a nasty portrait of the destructive nature of romantic love. Marijana Jankovic costars as Maxine, wife of the volatile Bruno, who is telegraphed as a bit of a psycho in the pre-credit sequence. The audience is set up to feel sympathy for Maxine and to expect her to be victimized by Bruno. However, the mirror shots that show multiple Brunos and Maxines are clues to tip us that each has many sides to their personalities.  Maxine turns out to be as unhealthy as Bruno: She describes Bruno as the “man who loves so much he destroys what he loves.” He then asks her, “Who are you?” “I’m the woman who’s willing to be destroyed,” she responds. In the next scene, I watched in shock as she allows Bruno to cut her breast during sex and then suck the blood—an act they both clearly enjoy. Jankovic is attractive in a natural, everyday way, and her subtle, low-key acting style makes it easy to relate to her. So, it is disconcerting to watch her strange behavior: She remains with the increasingly insane Bruno even though she no longer loves him and doesn’t fear him. Why does she stay? This question prompts the viewer to reflect on their own ill-advised or destructive relationships: Why did I stay?  Beast is not merely a romantic drama; it also combines psychodrama, body horror, and a touch of the preternatural. Though difficult to classify, Beast does make me happy to be single. Finland’s The Good Son also featured an unsympathetic but interesting female protagonist. Finnish actress Elina Knihtila plays a narcissistic actress who relies too heavily on her oldest son, a teenager who is not nearly as mature and stable as she thinks he is. Knihtila’s actress is vain, spoiled, and prone to scandals of her own making because fame has warped her perspective—not a very likable character but a terrific part for an actress.

LINDA CARDELLINI TRIES TO FIND COMFORT IN HUSBAND MICHAEL SHANNON IN 'RETURN."

I caught two American independent films at the fest, including Return, the story of a member of the National Guard returning home from a stint in Afghanistan.  Linda Cardellini stars as Kelli, an ordinary woman trying to readapt to her ordinary small town.  Her confident demeanor slowly erodes as the experiences she cannot disclose and the feelings she cannot articulate get the best of her. The versatile Michael Shannon costars as her husband who tries to help her re-assimilate but ultimately can’t get through to her. The difficulties soldiers face returning home quietly unfold through the experiences of Kelly. They are neither sensationalized for melodrama nor presented as incentives for violent action scenes. Shot in southern Ohio, the film captures the realities of small-town life during a recession. The tracking shots matter-of-factly reveal the boarded up businesses, dilapidated downtown, and crumbling neighborhoods of a working-class town—reminding us who actually fights our wars.

AUDIENCE FAVORITE

I also tried to squeeze in as many nonfiction films as possible, including Paradise Lost 3 (the last in the series by Joe Berlinger about the fate of the Memphis 3); Dolphin Boy, Bert Stern, Original Madmen, The Girls in the Band, and a new film-history series titled The Story of Film: An Odyssey.  The latter two titles are relevant to my thoughts regarding women in film and on film. The Story of Film was written and directed by Irish filmmaker Mark Cousins, as passionate a cinephile as I have ever met. He is also ambitious because he is attempting to “redraw the map of movie history that we have in our heads” with this series. According to Cousins, the canon of cinema history is guilty of distortion by omission because so many women filmmakers, minority directors, and even the film industries of entire countries have been left out or given short shrift. I watched 8 ½ hours of the 15-hour series, and I was impressed with its scope and simple style, though I didn’t always agree with Cousins’s conclusions. Combining clips and interviews, the series focuses on aesthetics, innovation, and visual style more than trivia, anecdotes, or biographies.

An idea presented more than once lingered in the back of my mind throughout the week and prompted my observations and thoughts regarding women in cinema. Filmmakers like American independent Charles Burnett, director of Killer of Sheep, noted the importance of watching films that featured stories, themes, characters, and history relevant to one’s background, race, and class—and , of course, gender. In other words, seeing one’s “group” reflected, revealed, or explored onscreen is important in understanding one’s cultural and personal identity.  I can’t help but wonder about the long-term impact of the limited and often derogatory depictions of women in contemporary Hollywood films, and the way women’s contributions of the past have been overlooked or underappreciated.

INA RAY HUTTON WAS A LITTLE DYNAMO WHO LED HER ALL-GIRLS BAND, THE MELODEARS.

Indirectly related to Cousins’s determination to resurrect women’s contributions to film history is a documentary called The Girls in the Band, directed by Judy Chaikin, whose name I recognized from a 1987 documentary, Legacy of the Blacklist. The Girls in the Band, which tied for the Audience Award for Best Documentary Feature at the PSIFF, ferrets out the forgotten history of women jazz musicians, from pre-WWII to the present day. Chaikin and her researchers unearthed some terrific footage of all-girl swing bands, including The Ada Leonard Orchestra, Ina Ray Hutton and Her Melodears, and The International Sweethearts of Rhythm. Several of these women are still alive, and they told powerful stories about struggling against blatant gender and racial discrimination for the opportunity to play music professionally. While the all-girl bands were quite cool, they were formed because men refused to play with women. Even if a bandleader was bold enough to hire a woman, the other musicians refused to work until she was fired. Though my personal favorite was Ina Ray Hutton, a feisty blonde bandleader who tapped and twirled as she led her band in high-energy swing numbers, the International Sweethearts of Rhythm provided the heart of the film. Formed at a private school by a progressive educator, the Sweethearts included African Americans, several Mexican-Americans, an Asian, and later a white girl named Roz Cron. The Sweethearts were taunted and threatened when they toured the South, because of the inclusion of Cron, who often had to stay in the bus for fear of retaliation by Southern whites.

THE INTERNATIONAL SWEETHEARTS WERE A HIGHLY INFLUENTIAL ALL-GIRLS BAND, WHICH BROKE RACIAL BARRIERS AS WELL.

Often, the girl bands were forced by managers or club owners to wear frilly dresses that were at odds with their high-energy swing sounds. They were forbidden to wear saddle shoes because male club owners thought it signified they were gay. They were told to smile while they played their instruments—even those playing the sax, trombone, or trumpet. They endured condescending, patronizing questions and comments from music journalists and critics, such as “How does it feel to be a woman musician?,” to which pianist Marian McPartland retorted, “How does it feel to be a male journalist?” A headline on a Downbeat article of the day read “Why Female Musicians Are Inferior.”  Many of these musicians proved enduring and influential, such as Louis Armstrong’s second wife, Lil; others were significant arrangers, including Mary Lou Williams, who were responsible for the sounds of famous jazz orchestras but were never acknowledged. Just as the history of cinema is distorted without the contributions of women, so is the history of American jazz inaccurate without the acknowledgement of “the girls in the band.” If there is one film in this article that I am sure everyone will love it’s this well-crafted, well-researched documentary. Chaikin is currently fielding several DVD distribution offers, but I look for The Girls in the Band to appear at other film festivals in the near future. If it plays at a fest in your town, don’t miss it.

Next week, I will write about my favorites from the festival, so those of you who like good foreign films, interesting docs, and diverse American indies can keep an eye out for some new titles.