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I know it is supposed to be artsy-cool to love minimalist cinema rooted in the Italian neo-realist movement and expressed (wonderfully) in the contemporary work of Iranian Abbas Kiarostami.
But jeez, don't these new films that mimic the greats at least have to be interesting? Don't they have to suck you into their hypnotic rhythms and simplistic artistry? Don't they have to actually have a rhythm and an artistry?
That brings us to Canadian filmmaker Terrance Odette's third feature film, Sleeping Dogs, opening today at the Royal Cinema, home of trendy artistic cinema in Toronto. It follows in the lineage and grunge style of Odette's Heater (1999) and Saint Monica (2001).
Sleepings Dogs, shot in 2005 and shown at the 2006 Toronto and Vancouver filmfests, should not be confused with others of the same name stretching back to 1977.
Nor -- gasp! -- with Bob Goldthwait's taboo-breaking, guilt-ridden opus, Sleeping Dogs Lie, in which the heroine performs fellatio on her dog.
Nor should Odette's film be confused with any classic by Antonioni or Kiarostami, either. It is a modest little flick and it is tedious, however much he deliberately wants to channel the masters.
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Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt -- or boredom. Sleeping Dogs is set in his hometown of Kitchener-Waterloo and manages to depict the dullest of the banal suburbs in that burgeoning city's landscape.
Secondly, Odette's passionate theme -- the complexities of fractured family and the displacement of sons because of the presumed sins of the fathers -- is never passionately explored in the story.
Our putative hero is a blind, angry, dysfunctional diabetic (played by real-life house painter-turned-actor Brian Stillar). He seems to be permanently confined to a health care facility, against his will, by his younger brother (K. Alan Sapp).
There is open hostility between Stillar and his sister-in-law (Jennifer Daniels). There is also a subtle power struggle between the two brothers, each on a different path in the aftermath of their abusive upbringing.
A new crisis ensues when Sapp takes his brother's old dog to the K-W Humane Society for euthanasia. That prompts Stillar to escape the hospital on a walk-about. For much of his journey, a hospital orderly (Tony Adah) joins in while trying to persuade Stillar to return to his bed.
It turns out that the inwardly conflicted Adah, who has his own issues with an estranged father, is a far more interesting character.
But we are forced to spend most of our time following the blind man on his stumble around K-W.
Not a fun time, even though Stiller turns in a convincing performance, as does Adah. Just as displaced is the soundtrack music, including hillbilly performer Petunia channelling Jimmie Rodgers yodelling country tunes. Why?
The low-budget movie was also shot on HDV video. Odette's cinematographer, Lux, uses a lot of hand-held, so we stumble along with Stillar.
It is an uncomfortable relationship with too little payoff.
Minimalist cinema should feel like a pure distillation of reality, not just a real drag.
(This film is rated 14-A)