LAFF 2015: MAIKO - DANCING CHILD

Maiko Nishino-Ekeberg in Maiko: Dancing Child.

Dance by no chance

By Miranda Inganni

Maiko Nishino-Ekeberg knew as a young child that she wanted her life to be about ballet. Even the name her parents gave her, Maiko, meaning "dancing child," was as if it were her destiny. When Nishino-Ekeberg was around 14 years old, her parents sent her to the Royal Ballet in London to ensure she got the best training, having to sell their house and car and move in with Maiko’s grandparents so they could afford to do so. Nishino-Ekeberg felt like this was a debt she could only repay by succeeding as a dancer. When Nishino-Ekeberg finally had her first big breakthrough in her mid-20s, she finally felt like she had said “thank you” to her parents, especially her mother who instilled a fierce resolve in Nishino-Ekeberg.

Now at the height of her career as a dancer with the National Norwegian Ballet, Nishino-Ekeberg wants (and is being pressured by her mother -- still so much control!) to start a family with her husband, Nicolai (who does not say much in the documentary). Nishino-Ekeberg knows full well that if she doesn’t stay in top condition she will lose her place as prima ballerina (there are plenty of other dancers waiting in the wings to take her place). Though she is cautioned by her doctor, dancers and, most sternly, her mother, Nishino-Ekeberg is determined, passionate and even stubborn. She has to be the best; the best ballerina; the best mother. And only dancing the lead role in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake (known as the most physically demanding role in classical ballet) will prove to her that she is still the best.

Making its world premiere at the Los Angeles Film Festival, Ase Svenheim Drivens’ first full length feature, Maiko – Dancing Child could easily be fiction, but it is in fact a documentary. Nishino-Ekeberg is physically stunning and camera-ready: all long lines and flawless features. Her story is one of sheer ambition, determination and discipline. And training. Lots and lots of training! Despite a cheesy, child voiceover (ostensibly reading Maiko’s letters to her mother from when she was a young girl), Maiko chronicles the endurance it takes to stay on top once you have hit your high point(e) in ballet. 

Unfortunately, we get only a brief glimpse at the hurt Nishino-Ekeberg still carries from missing her mother during her childhood and the psychological ramifications are not explored in the film. What Nishino-Ekeberg sees as only love, others might sense as domineering. What we do see is a woman in her mid-thirties reclaim her position of prestige while she pirouettes.


Maiko: Dancing Child screens at LAFF: June 16, 3:30, Regal Cinemas. For more information: Maiko.

 

Read More

FILM REVIEW: MOTHER OF GEORGE

Adenike (Danai Gurira) in Mother of George.

Mother load

By Don Simpson

During a traditional African wedding ceremony, Adenike (Danai Gurira) is re-named for her yet-to-be-conceived first child, George. Despite living in modern day Brooklyn, the Nigerian-American finds herself entrenched within a patriarchal society, a microcosm of traditional African customs. For a woman, marriage equates solely to fertility and motherhood. It is not only assumed that Adenike will be immediately impregnated by her husband, Ayodele (Isaach De Bankolé), but also that their first child will further the male lineage of the Balogun family. In this culture, bearing a son is a wife's sole purpose; so when Adenike is unable to fulfill her primary obligation to the Balogun family, she is deemed inadequate by her society.

If Adenike does not get pregnant soon, Ayodele will be forced to take another wife. No matter who is to blame for their infertility, Adenike must find some way to produce a baby.

Director Andrew Dosunmu's Mother of George observes the smothering effects of a world in which women are seen as baby incubators who are solely intended to produce a male heir to their husband's family line. With marriage, Adenike has been forced into a warped psychological state of worthlessness. She has become a possession of the Balogun family and has no other options than to abide by their wishes. Written by Darci Picoult, the story is intimately told from a unique female perspective, while Bradford Young's stunning cinematography brilliantly captures the claustrophobic world -- and wardrobe -- in which Adenike finds herself hopelessly trapped.

There is a certain un-realness to Adenike's world, which is captured with methodical camera movements and purposeful framing. Painterly images are boldly presented with a hyper-saturated color palate, functioning in stark opposition to the brutal undertones of the narrative -- just as the luxurious luminosity of the characters' skin distracts from the pervasive darkness that is burrowed underneath. The colorful allure of the opening wedding sequence reveals the precise reasons that women finds themselves attracted like moths to the flame of this demeaning lifestyle. The beauty and elegance of the ritual reconnects this culture to their history in utterly transfixing ways, and is not until we travel beyond the ceremony that the inherent ugliness is revealed.

Several recent films have discussed the feminine experience of modern women living in traditional societies that are still bound to the roots of their ancestors, but none of them present their stories with the visual intoxication of Mother of George. More importantly, the beauty of the images becomes an integral part of Dosunmu's film, constantly commenting upon the onscreen events.

Read More