the man behind the poster

This year's poster is a graphic, seemingly simple piece, designed by Óscar Mariné Brandi. He owns a design firm out of Madrid, and he is well known for his branding work with Camper, Loewe, and Absolut Vodka. Communication is a key part of his design thought process, uniting content and context. And making it look really, really good.



You name it, he's done it: posters for Pedro Almodovar, layouts for El País, branding for cultural centers, everything! All his designs bear his fingerprint, a bare and unapologetically hip purposefulness with a tiny pinch of play.
Óscar Mariné and his design group also designed last year's set of posters for the festival.





At this point, I actually prefer last year's main poster. In an interview in Diario Vasco, Mariné says, "The posters have to be polemic...Last year's was polemic because there was pink, because there was wood." And the poster did seem to invoke a little controversy, with the references to Basque culture settled starkly against a very modern color and design sensibility.
This year's, he says, "can please many people because it has many colors and each one can be seen reflected in another." Meh. A bit freshman art school (the explanation, not the design). He goes on, "It's a potent, very clear poster with a very direct, positive message. That before the [economic] crisis, we have to have the attitude of lending a hand and pushing."

backwash: considering french cinema

One of the retrospectives featured this year at the festival is "Backwash: The Cutting Edge of French Cinema". It features French films from the past decade and seems to aspire to attain an understanding of where French cinema currently resides. The Nouvelle Vague (French New Wave...Godard, Truffaut, Rohmer...) still influences cinema today, and the festival organizers have employed a surfing metaphor to structure dialogue--the official site says Backwash will look "at the currents inherited from the undertow of the Nouvelle Vague in the 60s...a creative drift currently gaining strength and encompassing a wide spectrum of genres."

The list of films included is eclectic, to say the least. From horror to realism, hardly a genre is missing. What is missing is in fact the most interesting part of the list. Amelie? I mean, I know we've all seen it, but as a piece of this decade's French cinema, I would say it's pretty significant. What about The Diving Bell and The Butterfly? I'm not sure what exactly informed the selection of films, but the gaping holes are a bit curious.

The concept, however, is fascinating, if perhaps a bit broad. Will a retrospective whose focus includes the cinematic output of an entire country really succeed in showing us something of value? Maybe not. Maybe all we will get is a lovely collection of slow-moving, philosophical French films. Not too shabby. But maybe it will. Maybe in those tiny bars, with the clinking of coffee cups and yelling waiters, some of us will be able to make sense of the shifting tides of the creators of cinema. Maybe it will clear a space for a discussion harking back to the days of Cahiers du Cinéma, where collaboration and the mixing of ideas created a deeper understanding of what movies were, and what they could be.

the recession hits here...

If you haven't heard, Spain is feeling the recessionary waves particularly hard. The beaches of San Sebastian aren't immune to the lapping of turning tides, either- this year's festival will be one day shorter than is normal. There will also be one less retrospective in the 57th incarnation of Zinemaldia.
The Diario Vasco quotes the director of the festival, Mikel Olaciregui, as saying "It will not affect the intensity and the variety of the offerings. We can't evade the crisis in which we are living, and discretion regarding spending is more advisable than ever." He goes on to promise that the adjustments will be made to minimize their effect on the festival. Whatever that means.
The actual numbers show that the festival is out 800,000 euros compared to last year. The cutting of one day and the scrapping of the Richard Brooks retrospective are reportedly the most drastic measures that will be taken.

Welcome to the grand opening of an unofficial guide to the San Sebastian International Film Festival, aka Donostia Zinemaldia.
Let's start with the big picture, so we're all on the same page.
San Sebastian is in northern Spain. It is in what we call Basque Country, what Spaniards call País Vasco, and what Basques call Euskal Herria. Incidentally, San Sebastian's true name is Donostia.
This year marks the 57th Donostia Zinemaldia, an incredible gathering of celebrities, unknowns, good films, bad films, and everything in between. Of course, this kind of thing happens all over the world. Not every film festival, however, takes place in between the belle epoque beaches and rolling green hills of Donostia.
This year's festival promises to be just as amazing as the previous ones...I will be here to bring the latest to you.