Wisconsin Film Festival Flaming bulls, Dutch soldiers, and bank heists (AVC at WFF 2011 Day One)

Ben: As Takashi Miike stacked up the atrocities committed by the breathtakingly evil Lord Naritsugu in the first half of 13 Assassins—to illustrate just how unrepentant of a dick the guy is—I knew I wasn’t the only one thinking, “Hey, that kind of reminds me of that guy that works up the road from here.” Serving as the opener for the 13th-annual Wisconsin Film Festival, Miike’s feudal Japan historical-epic-and-bloody-samurai-posse film probably drew plenty more comparisons to the current budget battle with the political overtones in its story. But who had time to figure all that out when so many heads were getting chopped off?

Festival director Meg Hamel seemed genuinely enthused by the numerical symmetry in film and fest—something she had dreamed of having since 13 Conversations About One Thing opened the festival several years ago. She graciously thanked hundreds of people involved with WFF before her dad adorably ran up and gave her flowers with a “no cell phones” sign stuck to them, signaling the start of the festival, which kicked off with the opening scene of a man performing ritual hara-kiri suicide, something that surely did not occur in 13 Conversations.

Lacking some of the moral quandaries presented in his classic Audition, Miike’s film still found time for revolting images (“TOTAL MASSACRE”), ultra violence, and surprisingly, a few laughs as destiny brings the rogue crew of assassins together for a rousing action-adventure. By the time our heroes had led the hated Naritsugu into their deathtrap of spiky barricades, TNT, and flaming bull stampedes, everyone in the theater was unquestionably rooting for the 13 to keep spilling blood.

Bonus: Why is the Eagles’ “Desperado” used in this trailer for 13 Assassins? It definitely wasn’t in the film.

After the Orpheum and the great job it did of getting everyone in, beered up before the film, and on their way afterward, I journeyed into the more modern austerity of MMoCA for the cult horror classic The Evil Dead. I know how campy the film is, but I had no idea that it would induce a full-on laugh riot—Scotty and Ash were killing. Maybe it had something to do with the grindhouse trailer warm-up, featuring teasers for movies like Twitch Of The Death Nerve, Pieces (tagline: “It’s exactly what you think it is”), and Maniac (tagline: “It will tear the life out of you”). On the way out, I swore I saw comedian Marc Maron standing on the corner by the Comedy Club On State—where he’s performing this weekend. Anyone else?

The Evil Dead screens again Thursday, 9:45 p.m., at MMoCA.

Kyle: I sat down in the Play Circle Theatre some 20 minutes before Armadillo was to start and watched an elderly woman in front of me shuffle through a set of tickets that closely resembled my own weekend itinerary—which was surprising for how dark and tense I considered most of the agenda. But some people, regardless of age, like that kind of thing—bleak, harrowing dramas that challenge your ideas of comfort and normalcy.

Those people have nothing on the characters in Armadillo. Janus Metz Pedersen’s documentary of Dutch soldiers sent to fight in Afghanistan highlights the distinctions between ordinary civilians and soldiers. Where we see danger and brutality, they see sport. Whereas we would see slight reprieves encouraging, they see them as “like going to a fun fair without trying any of the roller coasters.” Armadillo places renewed emphasis on the profound divide between the lives of citizens and those working to protect them—much to the delight of many soldiers, though much to the chagrin of the families on the other end of the phone line.

Pedersen’s portrayal is almost overwhelming in its ruthless honesty and attention to detail, ushering viewers through a stomach-churning and tear duct-swelling thrill ride that is both uncomfortable and, for people like myself and the woman in front of me, strangely fulfilling. But then there are others, like those depicted in Armadillo, for whom a movie is not nearly enough.

Armadillo screens again Friday, 9:45 p.m. at the Play Circle Theatre.

Mark: Closing out the first night of festival screenings at the Orpheum Theatre, Hamel prefaced the Austrian heist film The Robber by hoping it would take us to interesting places. Chasing a bank-robbing marathon runner from an underground vault through narrow streets, basements, out a window, through open fields, into the woods, and back to the distant safety of a former girlfriend’s apartment, the film delivered on that sentiment with a necessarily breathless pace.

The film splits the true story of athlete-turned-convict Johann Kastenberger (renamed Rettenberger in the film) between action-packed heists and the mundane routines Johann follows as part of his 24/7 preparation for marathon races. The not-so-subtle implication? Running and bank-robbing are extreme sports cut of the same cloth, demanding the same regimented steps and preparation for success. Whether he’s first to cross the finish line or gets away clean with a cash-stuffed duffel bag, Johann seems to experience the same rush, always pushing the limit of what he can pull off.

Thieving for a runner’s high can’t go unchecked by the law forever, and eventually The Robber’s sprints of action give way to slower, more dragging scenes of everything unraveling for Johann in the film’s final act. It works thematically—he’s running the last long and painful leg of his criminal marathon. But it also has the effect of numbing the audience to the more enticing earlier half of the film, leading to a fair amount of halfhearted shrugging in post-film discussions in the lobby.

If the protagonist of The Robber offers festivalgoers the smallest of lessons, it’s at least to pace yourself. There are four more days of films to see, after all.