Complaints Choir

On Saturday, I screened the documentary Complaints Choir.

A Finnish couple (Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen) thought it would be interesting to direct energy that we typically use to complain for a greater purpose. Their idea was to create a chorus of folks airing their grievances, big and small, then hold performances under the name "Complaints Choir." They were right: it was interesting.

What makes the experiment so compelling is the vast difference between how communities and countries react to it. Us Americans, of course, have no trouble listing out things that bother us and shouting it at the top of our lungs. Heck—we're practically famous for our loud mouths. But when the 'tour' arrives in Singapore, the tunes take a different turn.

Recruiting for the choir was not too difficult. Though folks were hesitant to admit fault with their lives publicly, many still stepped forward to do so. Some even seemed to be creating a makeshift therapy session for themselves.

Like the Yankees, these folks had minor complaints (waiting in lines, inconsiderate people) and major complaints (government, family), and were willing to sing about them in equal measure. But when rehearsals were well underway and the local police caught wind of what was about to take place, they forbid the singers from performing under threat of arrest. It seems free speech is not a privilege Singaporeans are allowed to enjoy.

So now their complaints are merely immortalized on the official film site and in this documentary. And Singapore appears to be humorless and really, really oppressive. Their government clearly did nothing to dispute this portrayal.

The Complaints Choir has since expanded to over 20 countries so far (some that we would have assumed similar to Singapore in restrictions, but weren't), and the idea is catching on. The organizers offer how-to instructions about creating your own on the film site. This particular documentary only focuses on the Singapore and Chicago choirs, but the spirit of the movement is captured well.

And after you see it, you'll leave wanting to craft a song about your problems each time they arise.

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1981

On Friday I screened 1981, starring Jean-Carl Boucher and Claudio Colangelo.

In 1981, the Trogi family moved to a nicer home, which meant they had to make do with less to afford it. Ricardo (Boucher) was 11 years old at the time and found the change to be very disruptive.

Ricardo's parents were good, blue-collar people who only wanted the best for their two children (Ricardo also had a younger sister). They worked long hours and extra jobs to earn enough to provide for their kids.

Ricardo was typical in the sense that he just wanted what every other boy was entitled to—a new gadget called a Walkman, and of course the latest clothes that would help him look good for his crush, one-time tutor Anne Tremblay.

He narrates the film for us in a humorous, honest way in the spirit of the Wonder Years. He shows us how he manipulates his parents into giving him things, obsesses over the relationship (or more accurately, a brushing of the arm) with Anne, and shares his desperate attempts to fit in with the cool kids by promising them issues of Playboy (which of course, he does not possess).

It's simultaneously endearing, self-deprecating, hopeful and sad.

When Ricardo realizes how hard his uneducated Dad (Colangelo) is working to make ends meet, the guilt sets in and we watch him "grow up" virtually overnight. There are wonderful scenes surrounding this transformation that also offer a perspective on why men who meet as boys often stay lifelong friends.

I enjoyed the journey into this loss of innocence, and even though some of the 80s fun had been played similarly in prior films (there's always a kid in KISS makeup, for example), it still worked well in this context. The extra touches added a welcome lightness to some of the darker themes playing out, and the family seemed like a true family.

Another pleasant element is that this story really was based on the writer/director's life. The real Ricardo Trogi showed sincerity and wit without giving in to self-indulgence, which made this one of the most appealing films I saw at the Cinequest Film Festival.

I do hope 1981 gains distribution so everyone can discover its charming appeal.

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