NYFF Review: Afterschool

There are two films at this year's New York Film Festival that have today's youth at their core, yet they couldn't possibly be more antipodal. One is a sumptuous, poetic ode to the Nouvelle Vague, featuring two beautifully scripted characters whose archetypal teenage rebellion is handled with sensitivity and grace, while the other is little more than vacuous pretension that condescendingly hammers its faux-profundity into us for nearly two hours.

I wasn't planning on writing anything about Antonio Campos' dire Afterschool. After all, it did receive some wonderful praise both at Cannes and at home -- Dennis Lim championed it in the Times, and Mike D'Angelo called it a masterpiece, assigning it the highest grade he's given a film (if I'm not mistaken) in six years. Yet when I saw Gerardo Naranjo's I'm Gonna Explode (Yo A Explotar) I found myself drawing comparisons to Afterschool; particularly the way each presents their troubled teens, and their approach to the cinematic predecessors that inform their work as directors. Both films wear their influences on their sleeves, yet what they do with them (or rather, don't) clearly distinguishes the auteur from the fauxteur.

Set in a prestigious private school somewhere north of New York City, Campos' debut feature plays out like an episode of Gossip Girl co-directed by Michael Haneke and Gus Van Sant. The film opens with a montage of viral clips -- baby laughing, cat piano-playing, Saddam hanging -- but wait, what's this? -- our anti-hero Robert (Ezra Miller) leaves the safe confines of YouTube for nastycumholes.com, where he gazes upon a bit of POV porn that goes from humiliation of its "amateur" actress to outright violence -- an act that has a powerful effect on young Robert, who trawls the web in search of things that feel real. Naturally, Robert will mimic this gesture in the real world, thereby giving proof to the adage that kids will repeat what they see in movies on tv on the Internets. 

With a healthy blend of ennui and school-dispensed meds, the students of Privileged High spend their days shuffling around in a somnambulistic haze, occasionally stopping to taunt one another. Adults exist purely beyond the focal point, and are mostly portrayed as clueless, out-of-touch hypocrites. A newly-formed AV club gets Robert behind the camera, where a long take of a school hallway for a docu-project results in his catching the deaths of the pretty & popular Talbert twins on film, who have fallen prey to tainted cocaine. The scene, which ends with an unexpected rewinding of tape, unfolds exactly like the opening of Caché. However, unlike Haneke's film, in which the relationship between the past and present is the central argument of the film, it here serves as nothing more than an empty gimmick, just one of many that the film employs throughout.

Campos knows his Haneke, his Van Sant, his Tarr, his Wiseman (who he explicitly namechecks), yet his incorporation of their aesthetic techniques never goes beyond the superficial; this is mimicry, not homage. He doesn't build on their ideas, nor translates or interprets them to function within the context of his story. Instead they are bludgeoning devices, and by the end of the film all of the off-camera framing and shallow depth of field loses any sense of poignancy (or relevance) and simply becomes laughable. (We get it, Antonio! We get it!)

In hopes that it might serve as catharsis, Robert's teacher asks him to create a memorial film for the dead twins, and his final product certainly captures the "realness" of it all (right down to the tears of the grieving parents), but of course the powers that be reject his vision, instead replacing it with a visual Hallmark card, twinkly piano music and all. Heavy. Still convinced that the nail can be pounded further in, Campos proceeds to give us a handful of false (and meaningless) endings until we too are shown to be complicit in the tragedy.

It's often said that you should write what you know, and perhaps that's exactly where Campos went wrong. A product of elite private schools himself, the film lacks a much-needed critical distance from both its subject and character types, and, to his defense, maybe that's hard to achieve at 23. Mike D'Angelo's still-baffling-to-me rave ends with a heady proclamation -- "This is how we live." But does Afterschool truly say anything new about the net-generation (alienating effects and all) that hasn't been explored in works ranging from Lain to Lily Chou-Chou to LOL

Comments

[Jeff]

namedropping one of your Benten releases in your review again, huh? hahaha I keed I keed.

You had me at Lily Chou-Chou. I think I'll give this a try when it comes around my area.

[Daniel]

Agreed. The praise for this film is baffling.

[md'a]

"Naturally, Robert will mimic this gesture in the real world, thereby giving proof to the adage that kids will repeat what they see..."

Sigh. Remember when I went to the trouble of adding an entire addendum to my review pointing out how off-base this shallow reading of that scene is. That you persist in thinking it's just the latest variation on hyperbolic discourse about "kids being influenced by the media" makes me sad. But then you also said (in person) that you felt like Campos intended the performance style to be naturalistic, which huh? whaa? you're blind, Mr. Magoo!, etc.

(See also—since I can't comment there—Michael Joshua Rowin's review in Reverse Shot, in which he argues that "Afterschool’s teens are so exaggeratedly zombified, so picturesquely tortured, so much the unintentionally romantic projection of self-conscious, stupefied angst (never has a student body appeared so preposterously laconic), that the film’s exploration into shifting values of true and false comes across as highly dubious." Which only makes me want to travel back in time to 1968 and read Rowin's angry pan of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Knee-jerk Haneke references aside, this film is much more indebted to Kubrick than to anyone else.)

[c mason wells]

I actually like a fair amount about this film -- primarily its formal elements, control of tone, and a few tender, painfully real moments (the offscreen first kiss, wiping the menstrual blood with the T-shirt) -- but I think Antonio ultimately undermines his effort by refusing to trust his audience. Between the aforementioned (and painfully obvious) choking scene, the revoked freedoms and "Never Forget" banner at the twins' memorial service (just like 9/11, see?), and the scene in the shrink's office that explicitly spells out Rob's desire for "something real" (got it already with the choking, thanks), it eventually becomes clear that subtlety is not exactly this young director's forte. (Hell, Antonio even prominently displays a poster on the dorm wall that reads "Do You Feel?" I mean, Jesus.) This is not to mention that the adults (especially Rob's mother and the comically absurd principal -- both played for cruel, easy laughs) are drawn with the nuance of the adults in a "Peanuts" special.

Antonio Campos doesn't seem to realize that his obvious influence ELEPHANT (whatever that film's flaws may be, and there are many -- especially its schematic, almost exploitative narrative construction) purposefully traffics in these kinds of ciphers and red herrings to a useful end. Van Sant assigns a number of superficial motivations to his homicidal protagonists as a sly acknowledgment that none of these supposed explanations (video games, violent television, parental neglect, social exclusion, um, homosexuality) are actually sufficient; the real stories behind these tragedies are far more complex than what the media suggest. He is, in essence, commenting on our cultural oversimplification, not indulging in it, deconstructing our culture's need to find easy meaning (and blame) in every tragedy. Antonio Campos, meanwhile, falls into the very trap Van Sant is criticizing. Everything in AFTERSCHOOL means something and, even worse, Antonio Campos, ever the clever young gun, wants to tell us exactly what it means. Given that he expertly appropriates Van Sant's style, but none of his insight, it's almost like Antonio Campos watched ELEPHANT with the sound off.

[Filmbrain]

Jeff -- I'm not making a judgment call about the quality of those films (or in the case of Lain, series), I'm merely pointing out that the ideas presented in Afterschool aren't as groundbreaking as others are making them out to be.

Mike -- I did read your addendum, and though I agree with your assessment as to why Robert chokes her, it's not something he would likely have done on his own. He is mimicking the unseen porn director, in both action and intent, is he not?

The Rowin passage you quote nails, in my opinion, exactly why the film fails in that regard. If the kids were more, you know, kid-like, then perhaps their quest for authenticity would have resonated more.

Debt to Kubrick? Other than the fact that the students had the same emotional rage as HAL, I don't see the connection. I look forward to discussing this with you.

Wells -- Great observations, and I certainly haven't written off Campos as a filmmaker. If he paired up with a great screenwriter the result could be wonderful.

This is yet another example of indie-films feeling the need to spoon-feed us, and I'm really getting tired of it. I ask Campos the same question I had for Tom McCarthy -- do you really have that little faith in us?

[Filmbrain]

To the D'Angelo fans who have emailed:

I honestly don't believe I was disrespectful of Mike, nor was I trying to dismiss his review. In fact, it was his review that caused me to pause and reflect for a week before writing about it. It's true that I strongly disagree with him, but there's no right or wrong here. Insulting me in emails isn't accomplishing anything, but if you feel the need, please do so in the comments section.

[Anhedoniac]

How about some comments or insight on Voy A Explotar, you great tease? Please?
I'm particularly curious about it, having seen Drama/mex.

[Filmbrain]

Anhedoniac --

It was my original intention to review both films in a single post, but Afterschool wound up taking much longer than anticipated. My review of Voy a Explotar should be up on Thursday or Friday.

[md'a]

For the record, I certainly didn't feel like I had been in any way disparaged or insulted. Down, lackeys.

I plan to write considerably more about Afterschool after seeing it again tomorrow night, and I'll likely address some of the additional criticisms I've seen. For now I'll just say that naturalistic, believable performances would have done this movie no favors. I suspect it's the overwhelming artifice, on every level, that's putting many people off.

[vadim]

I concur. The acting is *extremely* naturalistic. In fact, I'd like to hear what, if anything, suggests stylization.

Gosh, you get e-mails and I get comments from unemployed fact-checkers. I guess I feel better now.

[C.O.]

Afterschool is the Emperor's new clothes. The only praise should be for the DP, who gives nice widescreen. Campos is the cinematic equivalent of Supertramp, a stakehorse who has been plucked for his bonafides and set up to succeed regardless of whether or not he is worthy. His movie is all sensation and tabloid talking points. Is he stealing from greatness? Sure. But the next step is to absorb and shit out something original, and I doubt he has it in him. I will bet dollars to donuts that his next film will be some big Hollywood remake or faux-prestige drama. Afterschool has nothing on Dance Party, U.S.A., the best film about teenagers in the last twenty-five years. Now there is a movie that nails the essence of what it is to be young, and without all the strained attempts at profundity. Afterschool could use some levity, too. It's a humorless film, and that always raises a red flag to me.

[md'a]

So, Vlad, if e.g. you got into a fight with your roommate and were summoned to the headmaster's office, your response would be to sit there with your head buried in your arms for five minutes straight, saying absolutely nothing and ignoring all questions until eventually the headmaster, after opening the door, and waiting for 30 seconds while you continued to sit there with your head buried in your arms saying nothing, had to ask "Vadim? Can you get up?"

You're acting as if "stylization" only means Jennifer Jason Leigh in The Hudsucker Proxy or something. The performances in Afterschool are enormously heightened. Rob is narcotized well beyond any normal teenager. (Did you not see what Ezra Miller is actually like at the press conference?) The headmaster dude is a caricature of authoritarian bonhomie. That whole "I fucked your sister" monologue could not possibly be less believable. I'm starting to wonder if you folks have ever engaged in conversation with anyone. Rowin is dead-on about the exaggeration; I just don't agree that it's deleterious.

[Josh Bell]

I haven't seen Afterschool, but I remember being extremely frustrated with Campos' 2005 film Buy It Now (made when he was what, 20?). The first half was a stunningly effective found footage-style account of a 16-year-old girl's cynical project to sell her virginity online, and the nasty consequences that ensued. It did wonders with implication and inference, and seemed to really understand teen behavior. The second half told the exact same story in a narrative style, completely beating you over the head with the messages and ideas that were subtly portrayed in the first half. It was especially maddening because it seemed like Campos just couldn't leave well enough alone and be satisfied with his brilliant half-hour short. So I can definitely see how he'd be both devastatingly insightful and clumsily heavy-handed in the same movie.

[vadim]

Headmaster *is* stylized, and he jerked me out of the movie double damn quick. But sorry, I'd believe everything else. Kids have been known to go catatonic in the face of fights; this ain't Ballast. And c'mon, the "have you ever engaged in conversation" thing is a straw man.

[MovieMan0283]

Filmbrain, delete the previous post. Not having seen (nor even having heard of) Afterschool, I feel that I'm batting at straw men. Obviously your description of it and the critical response struck a nerve but perhaps I should wait until I've actually seen the damn thing to knock it down. Hell, I might even like it (is it coming to a theater near me, or just NYC?)

[Filmbrain]

MovieMan --

At your request I didn't publish your initial comment, though I don't think it was far off the mark at all.

At the moment the film doesn't have a distributor, though I'm fairly confident that will change.

[MovieMan0283]

Filmbrain - it might not be off the mark, but if so it was a shot in the dark given that I'm basing my entire opinion of the film on one (negative) review.

Furthermore, there's a surprising twist to all this - doubling back to look at the name of the director, I actually know the kid who directed this (not well, haven't seen him for years) and he is indeed an extremely talented individual (though even his earliest, sketchiest work received wildly divergent reactions). So I rescind my impromptu criticism and await the movie itself.

(Though I maintain by criticism of the critics who interpret this sort of thing as representing an entire generation.)

[Filmbrain]

I agree that Campos has a lot of talent as a filmmaker -- something I probably should have mentioned in my review. I'm looking forward to his future films -- I just hope he works with an actual screenwriter next time.

[mjr]

Though it seems the discussion about Afterschool has died down here, I'd like to make a belated stab at responding to Mike D'Angelo's response to my review of the film (by the way, you can indeed comment on Reverse Shot. There's a auxiliary blog for the site called ReverseBlog containing updates on the latest articles and reviews that allows readers to post comments).

To the response in question:

". . . [H]e argues that 'Afterschool’s teens are so exaggeratedly zombified, so picturesquely tortured, so much the unintentionally romantic projection of self-conscious, stupefied angst (never has a student body appeared so preposterously laconic), that the film’s exploration into shifting values of true and false comes across as highly dubious.' Which only makes me want to travel back in time to 1968 and read Rowin's angry pan of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Knee-jerk Haneke references aside, this film is much more indebted to Kubrick than to anyone else."

Ah, to travel back to 1968. "The White Album," Dziga Vertov-era Godard, and just a year away from the Miracle Mets. Well, anyway, I am a great admirer of much of Kubrick, 2001 included. It was one of the first major films in my life, one of those films that altered and influenced my understanding of reality. D'Angelo's use of the film in his response to my review as a sort of "gotcha" -- I didn't like Afterschool; Afterschool is indebted to Kubrick and 2001; therefore I wouldn't have liked 2001 upon its release had I been alive then -- doesn't hold water, however, because he fails to point out the ways in which 2001 succeeds Afterschool does not (D'Angelo doesn't even spend much time explicating Campos' indebtedness to Kubrick, but I think I know what he means). 2001 takes place in the lonely expanses of space, both in space itself and in the enormous vehicles that navigate through it. Because these expanses and machines herald a new age for man in which he is dwarfed by the cosmos and his own technological creations, Kubrick shoots 2001, especially the scenes inside Discovery One, in the style that has had him repeatedly labeled "cold" and/or "clinical": static shots, symmetrical compositions, deafening silences, and a profound emphasis on the sterility of advanced, computerized machinery.

One could say that such a style would work well toward depicting a high school -- and it has, in Gus Van Sant's Elephant. What Van Sant -- whose favorite filmmaker, by the way, is Stanley Kubrick -- got wrong in that movie is his depicion of teenagers. He wanted to film the high school like the Overlook Hotel while directing the teens as naturalistic non-professionals, but in regard to the latter dropped the ball by having these kids enact some unignorably insipid imaginings of adolescent behavior (watch again the scene with the anorexic/bulimic(!?) girls -- pure condescension). But I think he got that behavior right in Paranoid Park, a film Campos could learn well from. What Van Sant seems to understand about Kubrick that Campos does not is that the man knew his subjects and, thus, how to cinematically render them. The laconic dread of 2001 fits a story of two astronauts floating through deep space with only a homicidal A.I. computer as company; the hammy black humor of The Shining fits the story of hack writer constrained by family and work obligations, wishing to return to his past life as a smarmy playboy; and the wry sarcasm of Barry Lyndon fits the story of a self-absorbed, opportunistic rogue, based as it is on a 19th Century novel.

Afterschool, on the other hand, possesses a style that doesn't fit its characters or its milieu. I don't speak of style so much in terms of the way Campos shoots Afterschool, though I find his approach wholly superficial and obnoxiously overbearing, but in the way he writes his characters and directs the actors that portray them. Campos clearly thinks angst and alienation are the only modes available to adolescents, and because he's too lazy or narrow minded to explore the multi-hued spectrum of teenage behavior within the complex micro-society that is high school, he forces the kids to pout and mope like the model victims they are. It's too bad Campos' humor is only apparent in the obvious hypocrisy of Afterschool's straw man of a schoolmaster, because he could have used some in depicting the awkwardness, the fumbling, the silliness, the theatricality, and the narcissism of teens in more ways than just having his kids sulk in completely overwrought silence. It's a one-dimensional tactic just as false as that of Juno, except instead of that film's shallow, quirky hipster ventriloquism, Afterschool indulges in intellectual emo posturing. It might be "indebted" to Kubrick, but it has nothing of that master's nuance or irony.

[md'a]

You're still kinda making my point for me. Campos is not "too lazy or narrow minded to explore the multi-hued spectrum of teenage behavior" nor does he likely believe that "angst and alienation are the only modes available to adolescents." I brought up 2001 because this argument is akin to complaining that Kubrick was "too lazy or narrow minded to explore the multi-hued spectrum of human behavior" because he "clearly thinks that mundane pleasantries make up the entirety of human communication." Both films employ a deliberately anti-naturalistic performance style for deliberate effect, and expending a lot of verbiage on how "exaggeratedly zombified" [i]Afterschool[/i]'s teens are seems to be, yes, just about as boneheaded as going on and on about how "exaggeratedly zombified" Kubrick's astronauts are. It's stating the obvious, but you seem to have mistaken it for criticism. Even in your follow-up I still don't see much of an argument beyond "kids in real life are way more complex than they are in this movie," which duh.