(Canada, 88 min.)
Written and directed by Ann Marie Fleming
Starring; Sandra Oh, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Nancy Kwan, Don
McKellar, Ellen Page
 |
| Rosie and Mehrnaz in Window Horses. Photo courtesy of the NFB. |
“The more you learn about others, the deeper your
understanding of yourself. This is the journey we are all on,” says wise
Iranian poet Mehrnaz (Shohreh Aghdashloo) to budding Canadian poet Rosie Ming (Sandra
Oh). As they tour the colourful flowers of Iran, Rosie’s host illuminates her
on the rich history that makes the country the land of poets.
Virtually every nation considers itself the land of poets, though, as Rosie Ming discovers while meeting artists from around the world at the poetry festival she attends in Shiraz, Iran. It’s the first time that Rosie, a mixed-race Canadian—her late mom was Chinese and estranged father is Persian—has ever left her home in Vancouver, so this festival offers a world of encounters as she trades stories with fellow poets and learns the great backstories and histories behind every verse. This film from Ann Marie Fleming is one of the most relevant films of the year with its diverse canvas. As Rosie Ming’s Persian epiphany celebrates the range of experiences and cultures the world has to share, each story she hears tells of a rich and complex place. The multiplicity of voices unite in the film’s magical tapestry.
Window Horses puts
Rosie on this journey of self-discovery after she self-publishes her first book
of poetry. It’s a handsome collection that draws upon the young woman’s
romantic idea of Paris as the land of art, poets, love, and inspiration. Stuck
in a rut in the ho-hum plainness of Vancouver, this little stick girl has naïve
ideas of the world and of herself that really need to open up the sharp little
eyes that cut across her small face.
Rosie’s a peculiar looking girl, and Fleming wouldn’t have
it any other way. The character is the filmmaker’s long-time avatar and alter
ego known as Stick Girl. She’s a funny one with her pink triangle skirt, wiry
frame, and bobbly bubblehead with two pink-beaded ponytails that wiggle around
like antennae. Rosie’s unique appearance makes her stand out amidst the fully
fleshed-out characters who populate the rest of the film, like her
grandparents, voiced by Nancy Kwan and Eddy Ko, and the Picasso-esque Mehrnaz.
What offers an initial distraction becomes a wonderful image of uniqueness,
individuality, and identity as Rosie explores myriad cultures and histories
while savouring poetry from around the globe.
Rosie’s wiry frame is an endless vehicle for droll physical
comedy, too, as the young girl is perpetually awkward and outsized at every moment
until her big show. Flipping burgers with her friend Kelly (Ellen Page) at the
fast food joint in town, Rosie slings patties onto the floor and splashes salt
all over the place handling tools and doo-dads for which she looks grossly
outmatched. The Midas touch, she has not.
Window Horses then
wraps up Rosie’s wispy appearance when her grandma gives her a big black chador
to cover herself in the Islamic nation. The chador, which is like a burka, but
it doesn’t cover the face, offers Rosie a humorous cloak into which she may
disappear during awkward moments of her journey. Whether pulling the cloak
completely covering her head or slipping down beneath its shoulders, the images
make the young girl drolly relatable as she escapes her discomfort.
Oh’s vocal performance gives a delightful depth of body and wit
to the delicate Miss Ming. Playing to Rosie’s awkwardness, inquisitiveness, and
sense of romantic longing, Oh complements the pleasing sense of humour of
Fleming’s animation and script. The voices in the supporting cast bring their
own assets to the film from the warmth and compassion of Aghdashloo’s Mehrnaz
to the spazzy youthfulness of Page’s brief turn as Kelly. Don McKellar is
especially funny as a brooding German poet whom Rosie befriends on her travels,
and his rich accent becomes twice as humorous when one recognises the source of
the voice.
Rosie opens up as she listens to her fellow poets and hears
about their own journeys in between the poetry readings dispersed throughout
the film. These readings draw upon the poets’ diverse backgrounds and Fleming
makes the multicultural mosaic of Window
Horses an essential part of its aesthetic as she invites an impressive
roster of animators to offer unique visual interpretations of each poet’s
verse. The central narrative of Rosie’s journey favours a singular style, but
the different readings pepper the film with a variety of styles and flavours as
each culture puts its own accent on the film. Each vignette ultimately becomes
part of Window Horses’ beautiful
tapestry as the stories and cultural mythologies add colour to Rosie’s own
tale.
Window Horses is
visual poetry in its best and purest sense. The exquisite palette of colours
and offbeat style, which is both cartoonishly simple given Rosie’s frame
and artfully sophisticated given Fleming’s inclusive canvas, provide a
sumptuous and refreshing performance for the eyes as Window Horses lets one marvel at all the hues the world has to
offer. The spunkiness of Stick Girl makes Window
Horses both appropriate and accessible for younger audiences, but there’s
arguably more here to satisfy a mature crowd that will appreciate the imagery
and themes, which, like the best of poems, are far more complex than they
initially appear. With its depth, warmth, humour, and heart, Window Horses is a gift of poetic wonder.
Window Horses screened
at Toronto’s Reel Asian Film Festival.
It’s currently doing the festival thing and will be released
in 2017.
Visit Window Horses.com
for more information.
