Ourspace Movieblog

2012-01-24T17:19:00.000-08:00

Ourspacemovieblog has morphed into...
IndependentFilmNow.com, a new site for filmmakers to promote themselves and their films.

Visit IndependentFilmNow and promote your film, or submit reviews of independent films.

http://independentfilmnow.com/
An exciting new venture. Together, let's build your audience.

2011-11-20T08:34:00.000-08:00

Image from The Great Wave Modernized by Adina Velasquez, 2008.

Emerging interactive artist Adina Velasquez studied abroad in Asahikawa, Japan in her Junior Year through East Hampton High School in 2006. The Great Wave Modernized was created in 2008 at Quinnipiac University when she was a sophomore in the Media Studies Communications Program (Media Research) and Interactive Design Program (Animation). Currently, Adina is a freelance designer who spends her days working on graphic design solutions on her personal projects.

See Adina's demo reel HERE.

Her school blog HERE.

An analysis of 2D animation HERE.

Connect with Adina on LinkedIn:
http://www.linkedin.com/in/adinavelasquez

And follow her Humorous Breadcrumbs of Inspiration on Twitter and facebook (Adina Vasquez.)

Cost of a Soul

2011-11-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

The film Cost of a Soul is now available on Cable On Demand, iTunes, and Amazon. The film will also be streaming on Netflix in December and can be added to your Netflix queue. Cost of a Soul became the biggest initial release of an ultra-low-budget SAG film, premiering in 50 AMC Theaters this past summer. Below are excerpts of an interview with lead actor Chris Kerson from May, 2011.

Mike Fishman spoke with actor Chris Kerson about his role as Tommy in the feature film Cost of a Soul, winner of AMC’s Big Break Movie Contest. The Big Break Movie Contest was announced in August 2010 to give filmmakers with previously undistributed feature-length films the opportunity to obtain exclusive on-screen distribution throughout the United States. Cost of a Soul, the feature film writing and directorial debut of Sean Kirkpatrick, opened in 50 theatres nationwide on May 20th as part of the AMC independent™ program, which showcases the best independent films and targets interested moviegoers through unique promotions.

Synopsis: Cost of a Soul is the gritty tale of two wounded veterans who return home to the ghetto they joined the military to escape. As they struggle for redemption, their own families become entangled in a web of crime, corruption and violence. The film was shot in the spirit of 1940’s film noir but set in the modern context of a Philadelphia ghetto neighborhood. The locations used during production were some of the most violent neighborhoods in America as Kirkpatrick’s goal was to embrace the reality of the situation within those neighborhoods.

Mike Fishman (MF): How did you become involved with this project?

Chris Kerson (CK): An actor and friend that I had worked with told me about an amazing script he read, Cost of Soul, and offered to share it with me. He also sent my acting reel to the writer/director of the film, Sean Kirkpatrick. After he reviewed my reel, Sean called and asked, "Can you do a convincing Irish accent because I'd like you to audition for the role of Jake, the Irish gangster?" At the time, I expressed to Sean that I thought the role of Tommy was one of the best characters ever written. When I screen tested for Jake, I made the decision to give the character a youthful quality that I did not see on the page.

Sean called me after seeing my audition tape and said my test had more humanity than he had seen in any other audition. He then asked me to read for the role of Tommy. Sean was concerned that I was not the exact physical type that he envisioned the lead character Tommy, a returning Iraqi veteran. So I was quite surprised and delighted when I received a text from Sean asking me what gym I wanted to join to bulk up at in Philadelphia. In other words, I got the part.

MF: What was it about the screenplay that appealed to you?

CK: When I read the screenplay, I could not believe that something this good had come to me. When I got to a particularly emotionally charged scene that took place in a hyperbaric oxygen therapy chamber between Tommy and his young handicapped daughter Hope, I recognized what a superbly crafted character and dramatic storyline Sean had written. I was blown away by the complexity of the character Tommy. The arc that he went through up to that point in the script moved me so much that I felt I had to become that character.

MF: Your role and performance is very intense. What special challenges did it present?

CK: Sean felt the challenge of the character was taking on the emotional life of Tommy. The technique I developed studying with Charlie Laughton and Marcia Haufrecht has often lead to me being called a "Method" actor. Charlie, who was Al Pacino’s mentor along with numerous other actors that I respect, said, "Actors are emotional athletes.” Therefore, the creating of an overall emotional life for the character as well as from scene to scene stemmed from the disciplines and techniques these two taught me and the trust I had developed building a body of work over the years of vastly different characters. The challenge for me was how one could attempt to become both a marine and a criminal with as much physical specificity as I could in just three weeks. To be convincing on the screen, I gained 25 pounds in just 3 weeks through kickboxing, weightlifting, and running. That was a challenge.

The 19th Hamptons International Film Festival

2011-10-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

Day One: Well, I couldn’t get out of work to be there opening night and I knew I’d already missed a few films I would have liked to see, but that’s ok, that’s life, the films I really wanted to see will come around another time. So there I am, Saturday morning 10:30 and ready to receive The Fairy, (directed by Dominique Abel, Fiona Gordon and Bruno Romy), which turns out to be as funny, charming and quirky as I’d hoped and which was deservedly recognized as the Narrative Jury Winner at the awards ceremony on Sunday. The film centers on a frustrated hotel clerk (Dominique Abel) into whose hotel and life a real-life fairy wanders, granting him three wishes. The oddness of the fairy (Fiona Gordon) is matched by the clerk's eccentricities, and the eccentricities of the filmmakers' themselves; an underwater scene where the two do a mating dance, including pressing and gyrating their naked buttocks together, is just one moment in a film full of truly laugh out-loud moments.

Afterwards, as I was deciding where to go for lunch, I almost literally bumped into Fiona Gordon and Domique Abel. I took advantage of the opportunity to tell them how much I enjoyed their film. A nice surprise, the first of several over the next few days.

Second film at 3:45 in the afternoon, Butter, (directed by Jim Field Smith), an often-funny if predictable satire starring Jennifer Garner that almost veers into camp-horror territory at one promising moment and displays touches of black comedy here and there but is too mainstream in its heart to actually go there. Nice to see Alicia Silverstone on the big screen again. As Billy Crystal would say, she looked marvelous.

Act III of the day, Salute to Filmmakers party. A nice opportunity to catch up with some old friends including Lauren Wolkstein (please scroll down to see an interview with Lauren about her short film Cigarette Candy in a previous blog entry) and Chris Radcliffe, who together would win the HIFF Short Narrative Award for their short The Strange Ones, and Fellipe Barbosa, whose feature-length documentary Laura, which would win the Golden Starfish Award for Best Documentary and whose screening I attended on Day Two would be most memorable.

Day Two: 10:30am, screening of “Shorts for All Ages.” Had to go, to see Windsor McCay’s 1921 animation Flying House – Dream of the Rarebit Fiend, restored and with color, a new score and spoken narration by Matthew Modine and Patricia Clarkson added by Bill Plympton. Quirky, very early, ground-breaking animation with a story about a husband and wife afraid of losing their house to foreclosure oddly timely. Another standout in the program was Apollo (Felix Gonnert), an animated short from Germany about a boy playing with a toy rocket and wreaking havoc, most notable for giving us the child’s point-of-view.

Flying House

5:30, Awards Ceremony at Guild Hall. Who sits next to me but Fiona Gordon and Domique Abel, so another chance to say hello, and I was very happy to see them win the Golden Starfish Narrative Feature Award for The Fairy. On my way out I was able to congratulate Fellipe Barbosa on his award for Laura.

Time was on my side as I made my way back to the United Artists theater to catch a 7:30 screening of Fellipe’s film, a fascinating portrait of Laura, a Brazilian woman living in Manhattan whose style and diva-ness gets her into celebrity-studded parties (and who is chummy with Ron Perlman among others) but who remains on the fringe, of the parties and society, living in a decidely-not 5-star hotel, her room so crammed with collectibles (in theory at least) she can barely open the door. We never get to see inside that room, but the audience at the screening I attended did get a real-life glimpse of Laura, as she appeared in the back of the theater during the Q&A. Although she was invited up on stage to join the discussion, she chose not to, preferring to exit grandly, adding a dash of live theater to go along with the cinema. An entertaining and thought-provoking subject and film.

Day 3. Decided to take advantage of the perfect October weather to walk around Sag Harbor. Sadly The Black Cat bookstore, previously one of my favorite stops, has closed but I got a nice juicy hamburger at Bay Burger. Later I found out there had been an extra-added screening of The Fairy at 3:00 in East Hampton, which I would have liked to see again, but you can’t argue with a good burger. So the films for the day began with a 6:30pm program of shorts including The Shore (directed by Terry George, Hotel Rwanda)), a moving drama starring Ciaran Hinds about two Irish boyhood best friends whose lives diverged due to the troubles in Belfast; a bonus was a stunning wide shot of Belfast from a hill overlooking the city, a welcome image for this Van Morrison fan.

8:45pm, another program of shorts, most notable for the inclusion of Steve (directed by Rupert Friend) featuring Colin Firth as a disturbed and potentially-dangerous neighbor to Keira Knightley, and Animal Love (directed by Mollie Jones), an ambiguous sci-fi starring the always-welcome and lovely Selma Blair. The next to last film in the program was The Wholly Family, directed by the irrepressible Terry Gilliam. A bizarre, dream-like story about a boy who undergoes some unsettling experiences while on vacation with his family in Naples, The Wholly Family was, like most of Gilliam’s films, entertaining and exasperating at the same time. More than once I had to suppress the urge to blurt out, “The man’s lost his mind.” Yes, Brazil is brilliant and the man has a very, very vivid imagination. Well, let’s leave it at that; one must admire imagination, at the very least.

As we walked out into the quiet dark night, the marquee for the East Hampton movie theater was being changed. The festival had come and gone and though there were quite a few films I would have liked to see, every film I did see was rewarding in one way or another. Mike Fishman.

The Rum Diary based on Hunter S. Thompson's debut novel

2011-09-05T07:48:00.000-07:00

The Magic Trip: Cassady, Kesey and the bus called Further

2011-06-21T16:28:00.000-07:00

2010 TOP FILMS by By Brendan Rose

2011-03-05T08:36:00.000-08:00

Here is the 2010 version of my Top 10 Films List, with apologies to RESTROPO, ENTER THE VOID, BOXING GYM and a few others that I have not yet seen. 2010 shaped up as quite a strong year for documentaries. In addition, more domestic films have made my list than normal, suggesting an encouraging moment for American filmmaking. On the other hand, I don’t believe this year’s roster of movies offered the same quality at the very top that could be found in recent years.
1. CARLOS (Olivier Assayas) – This 5.5hr monster of a film covers the rise of a so-called leftist revolutionary and demise of a burned out, cynical terrorist. Sweeping and magisterial direction by Assayas.
2. LAST TRAIN HOME (Lixin Fan) – Compassionate, rigorous documentary detailing the underbelly of China’s economic ascendance through a study of human migration during the Chinese New Year holiday.
3. THE FIGHTER (David O. Russell) – A gritty, somewhat conventional boxing tale blessed with exciting (though sometimes over-the-top) performances, a rooted sense of place, and consistently assured direction from Russell.
4. VINCERE (Marco Bellocchio) – Filippo Timi overwhelms as Il Duce. Not your average biopic!
5. EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP (Banksy) – A labyrinth of a film. Thoughtful, comedic, confounding.
6. BLACK SWAN (Darren Aronofsky) – A flawed film for sure, but also daring, intense, and captivating. Portman comes of age.
7. INSIDE JOB (Charles Ferguson) – A devastatingly composed indictment of the neo-liberal financial system and its relationship to the 2008 (and still current) economic crisis.
8. GREENBERG (Noah Baumbach) – Stiller’s eponymous protagonist may be an unlikable jerk, but Baumbach’s approach, a mix of criticism and compassion, serves the film well. Funny and sad.
9. THE SOCIAL NETWORK (David Fincher) – Jesse Eisenberg’s lead performance, more so than Sorkin’s quick-as-a-whip screenplay, or Fincher’s directorial fireworks, is what impresses me most months after having seen the film.
10. LEBANON (Samuel Maoz) – This claustrophobic, unrelenting film set during the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon traps the viewer in a tank and captures the psychological intensity, mission confusion and moral compromise of war.

HONORABLE MENTION:
WINTER’S BONE (Debra Granik) – Jennifer Lawrence is a revelation, Granik’s direction is solid, and how many films out there can be called an Ozark Gothic!?!
EVERYONE ELSE (Maren Ade) – A quiet, realistic movie about a flawed relationship. Clearly, this film was not made in the States!

The Frontier

2010-10-16T09:31:00.000-07:00

Louisiana—

Although oil has finally stopped spewing into the Gulf of Mexico, work continues on The Frontier, a poetic documentary portrait of coastal Louisiana, one of the most beautiful, ecologically diverse and productive regions in America. In an attempt to create a picture of what it’s like to live on the margins of this vast, but vanishing edge of the country, The Frontier follows a charismatic cast of characters trying to make ends meet—some of the participants include a shrimper and bartender on Grand Isle, a swamp guide in Iberia Parish, and a 15 year-old high school student in Chauvin.

The film is being produced and directed by Jeremy Craig, graduate of the Columbia University film program whose most recent short film, Terrebonne, was scored by members of the four-time Grammy-nominated band, The Fray, and was funded through grants from the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, the Louisiana Film Foundation and Kodak.
The Frontier was in pre-production when the Deepwater Horizon exploded, an event that Craig and associate producer Julie Engebretson are hesitant to discuss too closely in relation to the project. “Although the catastrophe will be addressed in the film, The Frontier was never meant to be about the oil spill,” said Engebretson. “Oil and natural gas, however, are a huge part of the culture of Louisiana and any honest portrait of the region has to include it in some way.” So, as many journalists, activists, and media personnel begin their slow withdrawal from the region, work on The Frontier continues uninterrupted. Having begun in late April, filming on The Frontier will be a yearlong process that is expected to conclude at the start of the next fishing season in May 2011.

Through strategic support from the Gulf Restoration Network, America’s Wetland Foundation, and the Louisiana Film Foundation, Craig has been able to get access to many prominent Louisianans, including Thomas Dardar, Jr. Tribal Chief of the United Houma Nation, Chris D’Elia, Dean of the LSU School of Coast and Environment, and Mike Tidwell, author of the classic, Bayou arewell. The Frontier crew is small—joining Craig and Engebretson are co-producer Jillian Schlesinger, associate producer, Christopher Brown, and director of photography, Gregory Kershaw. “That we’re ostensibly invisible gives us much more flexibility,” said Craig, who prefers having a small crew to a large one any day. “Being free and mobile comes in handy when you’re filming in extreme conditions and strange, sometimes tight, locations. Most importantly, it makes deciding where to eat lunch a lot easier.”

Subsidizing the first few production periods through small grants, The Frontier team is now funding the rest of the project on the run. Beginning today, Craig and company are in the midst of a critically important 35-day fundraising campaign on Kickstarter.com, a final push to raise the $12,000 needed to get them through the rest of production. “It’s a ton of money,” said Craig. “But I’m cautiously optimistic.”

Recently featured in the New York Times, NPR and Wired, Kickstarter is an innovative, crowdsourcing way to fund creative ventures based on donor rewards and an all-or-nothing model where projects must be fully funded before any money is exchanged. “We’ve tried to offer donors the best incentives possible because there’s a lot riding on this campaign,” said Engebretson. “There’s no back up plan.” Having formed partnerships with a number of eco-friendly companies and artists, donor perks include productions from Klean Kanteen, Ecobags, Defend the Coast T=shirts, Heads of State, Dakine, Colcasac, Union Square Café, and even a bit of Craig’s own swag—DVDs of Terrebonne and signed copies of his 2009 young adult novel, The Straits. On top of donor incentives, one percent of all the money raised by The Frontier team will be donated toward 1% For the Planet.

In addition to The Frontier, Craig is also collaborating with longtime friend and lifestyle photographer, Bryan Johnson, on a related photography essay project suitably titled The Coastal Frontier. Developing as a gallery exhibit and web archive, The Coastal Frontier aims to capture the region in a more curated and expressionistic way.

In a statement describing The Coastal Frontier, Craig writes that the photography project “not only records this transitional moment in Louisiana history, but recreates one as well. It is both a timely document of the here and now and a timeless restoration of a way of life in the bayou and on the great trembling prairies of southernmost Louisiana, one that nostalgically celebrates that old school bus in the sugarcane field, the fisherman up at dawn, the boarded up gas station, and the oyster bucket on the sun-turned wharf.”

Craig and his collaborators hope both The Frontier and The Coastal Frontier not only raise awareness about the environmental threats to Louisiana but also “reveal the dynamic relationship between the Cajun people and their coastal place—all in search of a purposeful design in this place that is both paradise and paradise lost.” With so many different but interrelated projects happening simultaneously, how does Craig keep them all straight? “I don’t,” he says with a smile. “But don’t tell anyone.”

To support The Frontier or learn more about the project, you can visit www.thefrontierfilm.com.

You can find out more about The Coastal Frontier at www.coastalfrontier.com and his short film, Terrebonne, at www.terrebonnefilm.com. For interviews, additional photos, or general questions, please feel free to contact us at info @thefrontierfilm.com or jeremy@thefrontierfilm.com.

Cigarette Candy

2010-08-29T07:48:00.000-07:00

Mike Fishman of Ourspacemovieblog sat down recently with director Lauren Wolkstein (MFA Degree in Film, Columbia University) and producer Brigitte Liebowitz (MFA Degree in Film, Columbia University) to discuss their SXSW award-winning short film, Cigarette Candy. Excerpts from that conversation follow.

Synopsis: Forced to play the role of “the hero” at his homecoming party, traumatized teenage Marine (Eddie) forms an unlikely bond with a rebellious young girl (Candy). Visit the official website: http://www.cigarettecandy.com/

Mike Fishman (MF): I’d like to start by asking you about the genesis of the project. Lauren, your father is a Colonel in the Air Force but (fellow Columbia University film student) Jeff Sousa wrote the script.

Lauren Wolkstein (LW): I wanted to make a film about coming home, that’s the type of story I know and am drawn to. Since I’m not in the military, the way I’m involved is by seeing my father come home, and my friends coming home, from Iraq and Afghanistan on different tours of duty, and I felt the need to tell that type of story. Jeff and I were on a writing retreat in Maine with (Columbia University Film Professor) Lewis Cole (facebook dedication page) and I pitched Cigarette Candy. Jeff had some amazing ideas that we bounced off each other, and he said he’d like to work with me and that’s basically how it happened. I was struggling with the material because I felt like it was too personal to me, too close, and I really wanted to take it outside of what I had experienced to make it something universal, and Jeff was as passionate as I was about telling this story.

MF: Did you at that time already have the idea of a Marine coming home who had accidentally shot and paralyzed his commanding officer?

LW: That came a little later. When I originally pitched it, it was a different story. It was a ghost story about this girl, Candy, who was the main character.

Brigitte Liebowitz (BL): It took place in an abandoned house and someone close to her who had been a soldier had passed away and was haunting her.

LW: I originally wanted to make a film with a Southern Gothic aesthetic, but the story ended up being very different, much more realistic and corporeal because we felt that was the best way to tell a truthful rendition of this type of story. So, I am glad we changed the tone and made the main character Eddie. We went through many drafts of the story, and we finally boiled it down to this one event, this one incident, the party.

BL: It was always a coming home story, there was always this element of someone being haunted by war, by trauma.

LW: It was always that general idea because that’s been haunting me. The very first film I made at Columbia was about a 10-year-old girl whose father comes home from war. That was very autobiographical. The girl accidentally pops a balloon that is at her father’s coming home party, and the father reacts to the balloon popping as if it was a bomb going off. My father experienced that. I was drawn to telling the story of a loved one coming home changed and how that affects everyone, not just the person coming home. I also like coming-of-age stories, so we decided on the idea of this guy who’s not yet a man but who’s forced to be a man because of the situation. I think that’s a big problem now, there’s a lot of people going off to war and they’re not ready to be adults, so there’s this line between “am I a boy or am I a man now?”

BL: And Candy is his foil, she’s rebelling against that. We had a lot of back story for her that didn’t make it into the film about the fact that her father is in the military and so she, in her own way, was forced to grow up too quickly as well. She and Eddie are two sides of the same coin, he was in the war and she’s trying to play the “grown-up.” She lost her childhood, which doesn’t really seem to be valued much anymore anyway, it’s all about how grown-up can you be, how sexy can you be?

LW: We all know people like that type of girl, she’s over-sexualized and is forcing herself to grow up too soon. So she and Eddie are kindred spirits in that way. Candy is actually very much like the soldiers.

MF: Which brings us to the title, Cigarette Candy; her name is Candy, she’s a bit of a Lolita, and there’s quite a bit of smoking throughout which represents so many different things: rebellion, adulthood.

BL: It’s a mask for her, a veil.

LW: Before I even started writing the story I had in mind the photograph by Sally Mann called Candy Cigarette. It is a picture of her 13-year-old daughter looking very sexualized holding a (candy) cigarette. That image stuck with me, as did this other haunting photograph by LA Times photographer Luis Sinco called Marlboro Marine, which is an iconic image of a Marine who has dirt all over his face, a helmet on and is smoking a cigarette. So these two photographs kind of told the whole story. These are the two central images that I always carried with me when we were shooting.

BL: The central image was part of Lewis Cole’s curriculum for developing story which has since been a tool I use when working with writers and director to develop material.

LW: You can get so lost in all these drafts you write that you can forget what it’s really about, and what Lewis taught was to always keep in mind that image you had in your head when you first set out to write it.

BL: Those images serve as your beacon.

LW: Those two images are so evocative, they’re really like portraits of wounded people. That’s really where the story came from.

MF: There are several evocative moments in the film, one when Eddie steps out of the house towards the party; he’s going from dark to light, as a soldier might go out –

LW: Onto a battlefield? Exactly. We called that the “thrown to the wolves” scene.

BL: Right, or like a gladiator.

LW: It’s supposed to evoke that feeling of floating through a space that you don’t want to be a part of yet you’re forced into. In a lot of ways he’s being thrown to the wolves, forced into battle with these people he can’t connect with.

MF: He can’t relate to anyone except for Candy, although when they’re having sex he can’t look her in the eye.

LW: He’s zoning out (when they’re having sex). He doesn’t really connect with her until the end. You feel like he’s searching for something but in that moment he’s just trying to escape the party, she’s an easy target so to speak.

MF: Which you take to an extreme in a way, because they are actually having intercourse.

BL: For a long time I didn’t want that in the script, but now I’m glad it’s there. I felt like it was a little too obvious, but the more we worked with the idea of lost innocence and the idea of "playing" adults, it made more sense.

LW: That was a way to numb his pain, through this physical act. It had no emotional attachment to him. The real emotional attachment comes at the end when Candy really connects with Eddie. She notices his pain when he’s zoning out as they have sex, that’s when she realizes for the first time that there’s something wrong with him.

BL: It’s not just fun and games – they're not playing "house."

LW: Yeah, it’s not fun and games. Whereas before she was like, “I don’t want to have anything to do with you, but I’m going to show off and make you come and get me.”

MF: She even flashes him.

LW: That was an accident.

BL: A discovered moment.

LW: She was supposed to be seducing him, of course, but her flashing her panties at him, it just happened. I love happy accidents.

MF: Just before he’s about to talk to another young woman, Christina, a former high school classmate, there’s a shot of the back of his head, which you used as a still for your publicity materials and website. The scene is shot from behind him, and it has the feel as if he’s on a precipice.

BL: And you see a kid running in front of him in slow motion.

LW: That’s a motif we have throughout, the back of his head. And we wanted to give the sense that he’s disoriented from his environment, to show how disconnected he is; things are going in and out of frame.

BL: When you watch it, you feel almost like you’re on a ride or you’re floating.

LW: That’s something I really wanted to explore in the film, the subjective experience. I’m very attracted to films that are completely one character-driven, where we see things only through that character’s eyes and we experience it with them, like in Clean, Shaven, Lodge Kerrigan’s film, which I really admire. And that was what I wanted to show, through the camera, so the back of his head expresses the fact that Eddie is “not really there” – he’s not present.

BL: You don’t see his eyes.

LW: He’s lost. You don’t have access to him, he doesn’t have access to himself. We used that image three times in the film.

MF: Including the opening shot, when he’s in the shower.

BL: After he breaks down at the end with Candy, we don’t see the back of his head anymore.

LW: He’s not playing that role anymore.

MF: The film is a well-paced 13 minutes. What was left on the cutting room floor?

LW: It was a much longer film, at one point it was about 22 minutes. It was a real lesson in editing and what you need and what you don’t need. Because if you have to tell a story in such a short amount of time there’s so much unnecessary fat that you have to take out so the story doesn’t get lost in all these other things. We had some scenes with the parents that didn’t feel right for the short. For the pacing you’re talking about we could only tell one story. And that story was about Eddie and his inability to connect with anyone, so if we showed him connecting with his mom or his dad then it would have less of an impact when you realize how different he is from everybody. We had a scene between him and his mother that had a great little moment between them, but to have him connect with her – Eddie doesn’t really talk much in the film until he explodes – so if we had him talking before that, that moment when he explodes, that monologue, would be less effective.

BL: It would be moot. Any signal that he needs help that is perceivable by anyone other than Candy would work against the whole tenor of the film. The dramatic irony.

LW: No one really understands what he’s going through, except for the audience, through the camera. Like in The Graduate, that’s another example of a very subjective film. The film is beautifully executed because the camera is expressing for the audience the protagonist’s emotional state.

MF: Cigarette Candy has won awards and screened at some very prestigious festivals, including Palm Springs International ShortFest, SXSW, San Sebastian, and Cannes. Any particular reactions from audience members that stand out or were especially gratifying?

LW: At SXSW, there was a kid that came up to me after one of the screenings, he was 17 or 18, and he said, “My father’s being deployed in a month, he’s going to Afghanistan for a tour and I really appreciated seeing your movie.” I told him if he ever needed to talk, he should give me a call. We’re in contact with each other now, and that means a lot to me.

BL: That’s what it’s about, connecting and healing. Using stories to create empathy between human beings where there was once only emptiness and loneliness.

LW: Talking about it.

BL: You have to start there. Our Facebook page is almost surreal. One person wrote that Cigarette Candy haunted her dreams after she saw it screen at the Florida Film Festival.

MF: The film is dedicated to the memory of Lewis Cole and Private First Class George Howell.

LW: Right. It’s dedicated to Lewis because without him, the film would never have been made, and George Howell because he was a friend of the real Eddie Van Buren.

BL: It’s a bizarre story, but when we were casting for the role of Eddie Van Buren, which was a completely fictitious name, I got an e-mail from a soldier stationed in Iraq whose real name was Eddie Van Buren.

LW: He had googled his name to see if he could find articles about when he played sports in college and he came across our casting call.

BL: And he was like, “This is me. Why are you making a film about me?!” And part of Eddie’s monologue came from a story the real Eddie told us.

LW: Eddie wrote us long e-mails, he wanted to connect with us. George Howell was a close friend and fellow solider of Eddie’s who died in Eddie’s arms in Iraq. Eddie told us many heart-wrenching war stories, one of which was about an IED hitting Eddie’s truck, and his second in command came up to Eddie and put a cigarette in his mouth to make sure he was alive. We actually had that already in the screenplay where at the end Candy puts a cigarette in Eddie’s mouth to make sure he is okay.

BL: It was kind of amazing, that we already had that in there.

MF: You now intend to make this as a feature film.

LW: Yes, Jeff Sousa and I wrote a feature-length screenplay. It expands upon that story we set up in the short. It’s about Eddie seeking atonement for paralyzing his sergeant. He seeks forgiveness, but while he tries to find that forgiveness and confess to his sergeant at home, he falls into an affair with the sergeant’s rebellious teenage daughter, Candy.

MF: A soldier who goes through something like that, what do you envision happening to Eddie (in the short)?

LW: I don’t think he can go back (to the Marines). At the end of the film he strips off his uniform; he takes it off and he becomes totally exposed and the crying is like a freeing, it’s a way of cleansing himself. I think once you go through that experience you can’t really go back.

BL: He’s been emotionally wounded.

LW: My Dad works at the VA/DoD Liaison Office at the Department of Veterans Affairs in Washington, DC (http://www.va.gov/) and is also doing work to try and figure out how best to treat our veterans. He is working at helping them with the psychological wounds because there are so many veterans who have problems with psychological repercussions in addition to just the physical, partly due to advances in medical technology; people are able to be kept alive now when in past wars, they would have died. It’s important to me that this film was not intended to show that they’re not heroes, because they are –

BL: Very much so.

LW: We’re just trying to show the reality of the situation.

MF: That’s a beautiful connection between the film and what your father is now doing.

LW: Yes, my father joined the armed services when I was born so this is all I have ever known, and it is a story I felt that I needed to tell. My father’s shown the film to the VA, he wants to promote it within the VA. I was worried that he might have an issue with the film, but he connected to it.

BL: We always had the goal of creating a very respectful piece. To be sensitive. The only thing the film could be said to be judgmental about is war, just war itself.

LW: We always wanted to tell this individual story of this PERSON who is coming back home and how does he re-adjust to what he once knew? His parents don’t know what’s going through his mind. That was something I really wanted to explore by using the camera, to show someone going through an experience in their head and the emotional impact he’s having on others around him. It’s not an objective movie. You really don’t see how his parents see him, you just see how he sees the world. That’s something I really wanted to explore – the audience knows, but his own family doesn’t know.

Cigarette Candy was the Winner of the Short Film Jury Award for Best Narrative Short at the 2010 SXSW Film Festival.

For more information, visit the website: http://www.cigarettecandy.com
and join the Facebook group:
http://www.facebook.com/CigaretteCandy

Balka - Three Stories

2010-06-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

Mike Fishman of Ourspacemovieblog recently sat down with filmmakers/sisters Anya Meksin (M.F.A. Candidate in Film, Columbia University) and Leeza Meksin (a Brooklyn-based interdisciplinary artist) to discuss their short documentary, Balka – Three Stories. Excerpts from that conversation follow.

Synopsis: Balka – Three Stories chronicles the lives of women struggling with drug use and HIV in Ukraine. Through the course of the film we meet Zina and Mirina – best friends and active drugs users about to discover their HIV status; Tanya, a mother of two who has transitioned into substitution treatment but whose husband continues to use drugs; and Galya, a former user who now works as a peer-to-peer outreach worker. Balka - Three Stories was made with the support of the Open Society Institute’s International Harm Reduction Development Program and the Institute for International Education’s Fulbright Program.

Mike Fishman for Ourspacemovieblog (MF): Anya, I’m most familiar with your work as a narrative filmmaker. What made you want to make a documentary and where did the idea for Balka - Three Stories come from?

Anya Meksin (AM): Well, Leeza and I had been developing a documentary project exploring our family’s background in the former Soviet Union; in Ukraine, Moscow and Uzbekistan. We’re immigrants to the U.S. and we wanted to make a quirky documentary about our relationship and our family’s background. We were trying to raise money to make that film and go to Eastern Europe, and we couldn’t. But one day I was talking to one of my best friends from college, Sophie Pinkham, and I was telling her how much we really wanted to go to Ukraine; she was in Ukraine on a Fulbright Scholarship at the time researching harm reduction, which is the concept of reducing the risk associated with dangerous behaviors like drug use or sex work. She suggested we come and make a film about what she was doing, working with women drug users and the programs that try to serve them. She also suggested that we apply for funding through the Open Society Institute where she has close connections, so we drafted a proposal based on the expertise that she could bring to the project as a producer and the filmmaking and language skills that we could bring. That became our opportunity to go to Eastern Europe, and from there it transformed into this incredibly meaningful project for us.

MF: You wrote a treatment?

AM: Yes, we outlined that we would do three short segments each on a different woman dealing with different aspects of drug use. We knew that we were going to go to three different cities and we gave ourselves freedom to find those stories. The only subject we knew about for sure was Tanya and her children, as she was someone Sophie already knew. Sophie had traveled extensively to the places we were going to film in and knew the people who ran the programs there, so she had a lot of contacts. Every time we got to a city we were welcomed and taken around. Our work was meeting a lot of people and deciding who the other subjects would be. We spoke to many different people and what we originally pitched didn’t necessarily turn out to be what we found; obviously, with a documentary you often have many unexpected developments.

MF: Structurally, each segment gets more positive; you start with two women (Zina and Marina) who are in different states of denial, then move to Tanya who put her life back together, and finish with Galya, who has not only put her life back together but is actively helping other people.

Leeza Meksin (LM): We started filming in Poltava, which is where Galya is doing all this good work, and as soon as we worked with her we knew she was this light of hope, which is the name of the organization she works for (Light of Hope). She really embodied that positive idea. We knew that she would probably be the most positive of all the people that we would come across, so it was then, at the very beginning of filming, that we started to envision this progression. We wanted to cover all kinds of situations, not just limit it to a sort of “feel good, you can do it” theme, but also people who are really struggling while getting harm reduction services in some way. We really wanted to show a range of situations but it wasn’t until we filmed the first section that we realized it would probably be the last section in the film.

AM: I remember when we filmed the garden scene with Galya and I felt it would be an amazing place to end the film. I remember this moment of following her around the garden and through the foliage and the way the sunlight was. I had an emotional experience following her with the camera, and it felt to me like that should be the emotion we leave the audience with. And it ended up working out that way.

MF: What were your roles vis-à-vis the filmmaking process?

AM: I did the camera and Leeza did the sound.

MF: So it was just you two?

AM: And Sophie, as the producer; she was with us all the time. Basically we did the technical aspects while Sophie took a lead in organizing our shooting schedule and coordinating with people. All three of us can speak Russian, but she knows the most about the topic, so it was essential to have her.

MF: There are quite a few unexpected moments, such as when Tanya is crossing a very shaky bridge or in Gala’s segment where the drug dealer starts yelling at her dog and threatens to beat the dog –

LM: Yes, there were definitely certain things that happened that afterwards we were like, “Did we get that? I hope we got that!” And we made a practice of reviewing the footage every night (Anya used a CANON XH-A1s) so we had a sense each day of what we were getting and what we still needed to get. But we definitely found that in the end, we got the most interesting material just by being in the right place at the right time.

AM: I was used to narrative filmmaking where you’re working on a film set, and you position the camera in exactly the place you need it to be. Here, I was working much more on an emotional level, in response to what was happening, what was unfolding in front of the camera. And the challenge for me was to not let that translate into moving the camera too much, changing the angle, zooming in or out. In those moments when the material was strongest and unexpected, I tried to sort of shut down a little bit as a cinematographer, to just capture what was happening. I was basically just watching what was happening.

LM: Some of those moments became humorous, like when the dog you mentioned started barking and Lena goes nuts yelling obscenities at her dog –

AM: And the camera shakes! I was actually a little scared.

(Both laugh.)

MF: So in those moments, you purposefully refrained from doing anything with the camera other than just continue shooting.

AM: Right, if I felt like if it was obvious something dramatic was happening –

LM: It’s best to keep the camera neutral.

AM: Exactly. And there were times when that was very difficult, to just be neutral, especially in the scene where Zina found out she had HIV. That was an incredibly challenging scene while I was in the (roaming HIV testing) van with her and when we were outside, she was in such dire need of counseling, just reassurance and dialogue. What appears in the film is just a small part of the conversation we all were having.

LM: When we were trying to comfort them.

MF: With the camera on or off?

LM: The camera kept running but when we were editing, it seemed unnatural to include our voices suddenly, and there was a lot of conversation that happened that included us, which kind of highlighted the fact that no counseling really happened from the nurse who tested Zina in the van. It almost felt wrong to be filming -- it was so intimate and personal, so we had to cut out almost all of it and just tie together enough to get across the situation.

MF: Clearly that was a line you had to walk often, how intimate do you get, as the access you were permitted is quite remarkable, such as when Zina injects a needle into her groin. Was that due to Sophie’s connections that you obtained such access?

AM: Sophie didn’t really know the subjects although of course she knew the people who ran the harm reduction organizations. I think it was mostly due to the fact that they were women, we were young women, and we made it a priority to become friends with them and to treat them like collaborators and to let them into the goal of the film.

LM: We spent a lot of time just hanging out with them, not filming, and I think that helped to put them at ease. And so a lot of the best filming would happen the last few days we had with them because by then they could be open with us, they felt like friends and they didn’t feel judged, which was really important. I think they all felt honored to be part of a project on this topic. They realized how important their message may be for other women in their situation, and they wanted to share their stories honestly so maybe it would help others like them.

MF: Do you think the fact that you were sisters made it feel more comfortable or safe for them?

LM: I think so. When we finished filming Zina and Marina’s section, which was the last section we filmed, our father, who was born in Ukraine, came to meet us, and I think the fact that this older man, our father, was warm and open and not judging them either, meant a lot to them.

AM: And the fact that we were Eastern European. It would have been a much more difficult project to film if we were, say, Americans and we came to sort of look down on them. It meant a lot that we were immigrants, that we shared a lot with them, even small things like “That’s the same tea set my aunt had when we were growing up.” There was a feeling of intimacy.

MF: The term Balka, which refers to the wooded area where people go to buy and do drugs –

AM: A Balka is a regional term used to refer to a low lying wooded area outside of town where often a stream or river used to be but that has dried up. During World War II, Jewish people in Ukrainian towns were often rounded up and shot in the balkas, so they are also the sites of mass graves.

MF: Marked or unmarked?

LM: Sometimes they have stones that will say something like “A thousand peaceful civilians were shot here by the Nazis.” But they never make mention of the fact that they were all Jews, and a lot of the sites don’t even have that.

MF: The people who go there to buy and do drugs, even if there is no marker, they’re aware of that history?

AM: Yeah, absolutely.

MF: So, with no connection to its emotional history, a Balka is, for them, a place where it’s safe to buy and do drugs.

AM: Right, it’s this marginal pace on the outskirts of town –

LM: That’s not policed or monitored.

AM: Exactly. It’s like this no man’s land. Of course, we were struck with the allegorical resonance of the setting as a marginal place outside of society, as many of the women we met exist on the margins of their society.

Follow Balka - Three Stories on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/BALKA/338397962554?ref=ts

It’s a Gift: W.C. Fields in the Movies

2010-06-12T12:18:00.000-07:00

The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts Cinema Series It’s a Gift: W.C. Fields in the Movies, taking place every Tuesday through July 6, is revelatory and richly rewarding. Watching Fields is always richly rewarding, just as watching any great physical comic, from classics like Chaplin, Keaton and The Marx Brothers to modern comedians Jim Carrey and Jack Black. But the emphasis on Fields’ early silent work, with occasional live piano accompaniment by Ben Model (www.silentfilmmusic.com) is enlightening for shining a light on Fields’ entrance into film in 1915 at the considerably advanced age of 35, having already made a name for himself as a vaudeville and stage star. The more well-known Fields of later films such as The Dentist (1932), My Little Chickadee (1940) and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break (1941) was, admittedly, often caustic and not exactly huggable and lovable. But in these early silent films, we see a more tender Fields, the camera’s light freshly hitting the twinkle in his mischievous eye.

There was a nice New York feel to the screening of So’s Your Old Man (1926) on a recent Tuesday, the film having been shot in New York, as many of them were (Queens, Hicksville, Brooklyn) and an audience member sharing that copies of the out-of print book W.C. Fields: A Life on Film written by Fields’ grandson Ronald Fields are available at the Strand. Fields’ granddaughter, Harriet Fields, in attendance to introduce the screening and take questions, was pleased to hear that as she rather shamelessly (and why not?) hawked Fields and the website www.wcfields.com. Of course, she was preaching to the converted , but here’s hoping Fields’ work will find new audiences on DVD. It is somewhat depressing to consider, though, is he too minor to survive? And what about Keaton? Chaplin as icon is assured his prominent place, but what of the Marx Brothers? Will they become like the Ritz Brothers? There is no substitute for seeing a film like So’s Your Old Man (or the week before Sally of the Sawdust starring Carol Dempster, a sweetie whose eyes could break your heart) with a live audience laughing up at the screen, sharing a life-affirming if fleeting bond. One has to wonder if there will exist such an audience fifty years from now, a hundred years from now. Mike Fishman.

www.wcfields.com
www.nypl.org/locations/lpa

2010-05-26T17:22:00.001-07:00

The Brooklyn Int'l Film Festival (BiFF) is proud to announce its 13th annual festival, themed STUNT, presented by BUSHMILLS IRISH WHISKEY.

The competitive event will run from June 4-13 at indieScreen, a brand new venue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and Brooklyn Heights Cinema. The festival has received over 2,400 films from 92 countries, and will present over 100 film premieres.

For more info, please visit www.brooklynfilmfestival.org.

2010-05-26T17:20:00.000-07:00

The Brooklyn International Film Festival announces 6th ANNUAL kidsfilmfest

June 12th and June 13th

The Brooklyn International Film Festival (BiFF) is proud to announce the 6TH annual kidsfilmfest which will be staged at two locations: June 13th at 1pm, at indieScreen, BiFF's brand-new space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and June 12th throughout the day at the Long Island Children's Museum. Since 2004, kidsfilmfest has followed its mission to promote children’s filmmakers and to educate young movie-goers about the art of film production.

The program will be tailored for children of all ages (films will be rated "G"). It will consist of numerous short animation and narrative films from five countries. Children can get acquainted with the filmmakers while taking part in workshops about the films screened at the festival. Attendees not only watch the films, but will also be able to discuss and explore the background of their production. There will be a Q&A with the directors and actors as well as a director’s interactive workshop following the June 13th screening at indieScreen.

The 13th annual BiFF, themed STUNT, will run from June 4th to June 13th at indieScreen in Williamsburg, Brooklyn and the Brooklyn Heights Cinema.

For full film lineup and general info please visit www.kidsfilmfest.org or contact Lisa King, 646-234-5080 or lisa@kidsfilmfest.org.

2010-04-14T08:02:00.000-07:00

Brendan Rose’s 2009 Top 10 Films

Here is the 2009 version of my (slightly pretentious) Top 10 Films list, with apologies to Crazy Heart, The Messenger, and a few others that I have not yet seen.

1) 35 Shots of Rum (Claire Denis) – A beautifully elegant, melancholy gem of a film. This lean story contains an entire world.
2) The White Ribbon (Michael Haneke) – This arguably didactic film is also defined by formal brilliance and a razor-sharp intelligence in Haneke guiding the ship.
3) Hunger (Steve McQueen) – An uncompromising, unsentimental, brutal film about horrific oppression and a desperate act of protest. The endless dialogue sequence between Sands and the priest is pure genius and anchors the film.
4) 24 City (Jia Zhangke) – Jia’s films possess a completely original cinema grammar. An illuminating and affecting look at China’s rush towards modernity.
5) After Life (Hirokazu Kore-Eda) – Another delicately observed drama from one of world cinema’s best.
6) Headless Woman (Lucretia Martel) – Hypnotic metaphysical drama that touches on class and identity within Argentina in the most subtle of ways.
7) Two Lovers (James Gray) – Gray continues to make rugged outer-borough pictures that defy the gentrifying city’s pop image.
8) Adventureland (Greg Mottola) – A funny, bittersweet coming-of-age tale with brains.
9) Where the Wild Things Are (Spike Jonze) – A children’s chronicle of adventure turned into a gorgeously shot study of the struggle between youthful exuberance and adulthood’s pensive regrets.
10) Me and Orson Welles (Richard Linklater) – Old Broadway, Orson Welles, and pre-war Manhattan all in one. A film brimming with possibility!

Honorable Mention
• The Informant (Steven Soderbergh) – The most hilarious yet dark and depressing film about capitalism ever made. Matt Damon is unstoppable!
• Public Enemies (Michael Mann) – Has a period drama ever felt more “present?”

First Day of Peace

2010-02-25T11:46:00.000-08:00

Ourspacemovieblog recently sat down with filmmaker Mirko Rucnov (M.F.A. in Film '09, Columbia University) to discuss his short film, First Day of Peace. First Day of Peace was the recipient of a development award selected by Killer Films and was a Faculty Selects film at the 2009 Columbia University Film Festival. Excerpts from that conversation follow.

Synopsis of First Day of Peace: When a peace agreement is announced, a middle-aged peasant undertakes a voyage to the disputed Bosnian border to plow his land. His decision brings unexpected results…

Michael Fishman for Ourspacemovieblog (MF): First Day of Peace is about war but it refrains from making an obvious statement about war.

Mirko Rucnov (MR): Yes, I didn’t want to make too obvious of a statement. Art as a form of propaganda, political or social, never was an interest of mine because the possibilities are very limited. Such films grow stale and after the passage of time, they are usually forgotten.

MF: Although, obviously, you are making some kind of statement about war.

MR: I’m not against statements, only ones that are expository or preachy. Every piece of art is a statement; what would be the point of making anything (otherwise)? So it’s a certain point-of-view. It’s impossible to be objective about reality. Each of us tells a story from our own experience and through our own eyes.

MF: What inspired the story?

MR: The story was loosely inspired by a true event of a peasant who was shot on his land during the seize fire agreement. When I wrote the script, it all came in one piece, it was not pre-constructed in any way. I just wrote it in one flow, one very emotional flow, that was basically the whole story. Later, I re-wrote it, which is always the case, but the basic core remained from that first draft. Because this is the first day of peace, the first day of a peace agreement, what was interesting to me was the notion of how the war changes then, because you know, in war, during war time, everything is simple in people’s minds; that’s why war is so horrifying: we are right, they are wrong, they are the enemies of peace. I wanted to show that the danger is still there and that it’s anonymous; it could come from either side, from your own side or the other side. Like friendly fire, both sides firing their guns in victory, you don’t know when or from where danger is still coming, even though technically it is a time of peace. I wanted to express that aspect of
transitional limbo between war and peace.

MF: Did you make any changes to the story during production?

MR: I had some scenes that I left out of the movie because they would have made it too long. I had one scene that I really liked set in an abandoned village with a little boy, but I wanted to keep the movie at 15 minutes. And there were some scenes that were added during the re-write that were never actually filmed. But nothing was left out that would compromise the story itself, which I feel very fortunate about.

MF: Was most of your crew from Bosnia?

MR: My crew was from all over the place. The main producer was my sister Sonja Rucnov. My Columbia University fellow student Shrihari Sathe was co-producer along with me, and my friend and partner in Plowshare Films Geoff Bailey was AD and associate producer. The cinematographer Rolf Dekens and gaffer Luuk Zonnenberg came from Holland. The AC Thomas Fishwick came from England, and sound man Tim Korn along with my Columbia friends fellow students Erik Pagan and Bob Snow arrived from the USA. Also, I used people from the village I know for additional crew and as actors. This eclectic mixture of people miraculously worked as one in spite of the language barrier. Both sides, local and foreign, went through great and life changing experiences... It was amazing to be a part of it... To illustrate this, I want to paraphrase the words of Mico Bakic, who was my right hand man in organizing the shoot; he said: “After this experience, I will never watch movies with the same eyes.” It was like an epiphany to him, what amount of risk goes into the making of a movie, and how people can do anything if they’re grouped around one strong idea.

MF: Were any of the cast actual actors?

MR: No, they were all from the village. From when I first wrote the script I knew I would use real people because you cannot pull this off without real people, it would be artificial. These people work on the land all their lives and it comes natural to them; their faces and their hands are shaped by the wind and winters, no makeup can do that. You can really sense when someone comes from a village.

MF: Like the fortune teller…

MR: Yes, she is a survivor of the Holocaust. Croatian Nazis took her eyes out when she was 14 years old by forcing her to watch fire, so her eyes just drained out. Right before this torture, she witnessed the slaughtering of her parents. But she captivated everyone in the crew with her amazing inner spirit and strength. It’s amazing to see what people can survive and still have the hope in life and see only good in people.

MF: How did you meet her? Was she someone you knew?

MR: No, actually I did not know about her. I had a fortune teller in the script but she wasn’t blind. When I was looking for an old woman to play this role, it was very hard to find someone who was ready to play the role. First of all, most non-actors are very shy, and I had to find someone who was willing to do it for free and who could act. Somebody told me about this woman, I went to meet her and she said yes. That was one of the hardest scenes to shoot. It was the first day of shooting, and it took a great deal of patience because first of all, she doesn’t know what film is. She has been blind since she was 14 years old, that happened before TV was even invented, and she lived in a village in the small hills of Bosnia all her life. They had no cinema, and she had never seen TV. She didn’t even have a concept of film. She heard about it, and TV, but she never experienced them, how they operate. I told her we were playing a game. It was kind of surreal, I couldn’t even explain that she was talking to a character in a film, not a real person.

MF: The way that she tells fortunes –

MR: She uses beans. She counts the beans and the result is a number that is interpreted according to a system.

MF: And the number that comes up is an 8.

MR: Yes, an 8, which is very bad. But the funniest thing is that every time we were shooting the scene, I tried to explain to her that she had to fake it was 8 but she couldn’t understand that, so every time she would throw the beans it would come up a good-fortune number and she couldn’t understand that she had to pretend it was an 8. So I told her it was a game and that we had to put the numbers like they were an 8, like she had thrown an 8. I had to be very patient. She really went out of her way to do this. Everyone on the crew was very touched by her.

MF: You had her remove her glasses, which was very moving.

MR: Yes, that was very emotional. That was the toughest part...

MF: So, even though Marco knows that, as she puts it, his “way is closed,” he still goes.

MR: Yes, and in the following scene where he sees his friends one of them remarks that Marco lost his only son to the war and that he has lost his mind in a way. There is no one to continue his family and he has no one to leave his land to. But it is also an act of resistance to all of this madness, the meaninglessness of war, He thinks that he can bring change by the simple act of plowing his land, as his ancestors did for centuries before; he wants to bring things back to normal. It’s almost an act of self-sacrifice. Regardless of the consequences I think he succeeds because we see the people on the other side coming out to plow their land as well, on the other side of the marker; he inspired them to come out, so there is a certain amount of harmony but not in a sentimental sense, to give them a sense of purpose in life.

MF: Did you build all of the sets, the ruins of the houses?

MR: Yes, all of the ruins were built from scratch. Most of the real ruins are overtaken by woods, so we couldn’t use them, except for the abandoned house that is filled with animals. That was an old house that belonged to cousins of mine who had built a new house, so they let me use the old house. Again, I have to say, my family and friends in Bosnia were so helpful in the making of this film.

MF: Speaking about the animals, how was it working with animals?

MR: Great. I have worked with animals before and animals are such a part of my life and my imagination since my childhood. I had no problems with them at all. They did everything I asked! (laughs) For example, the peacock jumping out of the window, that was done in one take. We tried first to have somebody push it out the window but their arm kept coming into frame, so we wound up just yelling at the bird from outside the house and the bird reacted to that and jumped out the window. And he landed perfectly, almost right at Marco’s feet, like they had some kind of connection. It was great. I couldn’t have asked for a better moment.

MF: After Marco leaves that house, he leads his horse to the field and he’s practically enveloped in the fog.

MR: Yes, he’s stepping into the fog, it’s almost like he is stepping into death, or the river Styx; there is no coming back. But I wanted to film it with a certain grace, so that it would not seem too pessimistic. Fog played a significant role visually throughout the film. We shot only limited hours a day because I wanted to capture different densities of fog, to have fog present throughout to various degrees.

MF: It feels more mystical than symbolic.

MR: I don’t like images that are too obviously symbolic; I prefer allegories. Allegories have a wider range of interpretation, I think, and are closer to life. Symbols are always narrowly defined. I like when there is more space for the viewer to think.

MF: Your use of camera feels very deliberate; you often use close-ups and then pans, for instance, in the abandoned house when you pan to the bullet holes in the wall.

MR: That was actually done in one shot, which was really a beautiful shot, but I broke it for dramatic reasons. Instead of leaving it as one continuous shot as it was filmed, I decided to break it and show Marco’s reaction. I decided that would work better for the viewer dramatically than if it were one continuous shot.

MF: Did you feel the pan as one continuous shot would have been too predictable?

MR: Yes, maybe that it would have been too obvious as a shot. But the main concern was that breaking it was more dramatic, it was more beneficial for the story.

MF: You screened First Day of Peace in Bosnia. How was it received?

MR: I just came back. I had a premiere in the village there that has a theater and everyone was very excited and happy, people were crying from the excitement. It was the hardest premiere because I wasn’t sure how they were going to react. I wanted them to react well and they did. It was very emotional, it was great. I’m proud I didn’t disappoint them.

MF: Thank you for your time.

MR: Thank you.

The Secret of Kells trailer

2010-02-23T17:41:00.001-08:00

Watch the trailer for The Secret of Kells HERE.

The Making of Up

2010-02-18T21:10:00.000-08:00

Behind the scenes of Disney Pixar - the making of Up
MSN movies gets a behind the scenes look at Disney Pixar studios, including an insight into the making of their latest movie, Up. Click HERE for video.

2010-01-28T20:18:00.001-08:00

What are 5 films that had a major impact on you? Ourspacemovieblog would like to hear about 5 movies that had a lasting impact on you. Send us your list and we’ll post it on the blog. You can post your list in the comments section below and we'll put it on the blog or e-mail it to: ourspacemovieblog@gmail.com

Five films I found and still find powerful are The Seventh Seal, poetry and earthy humor; Seven Samourai, which led me to the Zatoichi films of Shintaro Katsu; Grand Hotel, my intro to the studio films of the 30’s; Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast, like a dream made real; The Match Factory Girl, I can still recall the audience making the transition from somber to laughing out loud. Mike Fishman

Up in the Air

2010-01-28T19:23:00.000-08:00

Screenplay by Jason Reitman and Sheldon Turner. Based on the novel by Walter Kirn. Directed by Jason Reitman.

There are moments in this latest, most-topical film from Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking) that will strike a bell (a sad bell to be sure) with viewers who have had the experience of being laid off, let go, downsized, their position eliminated, or however their former employers preferred to sugarcoat it. A certain recognition will flicker as they watch professional corporate downsizer Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) deliver the bad news their boss prefers to pay a stranger to deliver, whether it’s the frustrated eyes starting to water, a chair being thrown across the room, an “I don’t believe this shit” auto-response, or a strangely calm “So, where’s the nearest bridge I can throw myself off of?” If any other major star but the ever-suave George Clooney were to play this role, there would be little hope of a viewer, happily employed or not, liking or feeling anything but revulsion and pity for him.

But Clooney is an actor seemingly impossible to hate. Even as the annoying Fantastic Mr. Fox (the wonderfully-animated realization of the Roald Dahl novel by Wes Anderson), you want to take him and slap him, turn him around good but not actually strangle the guy; even as an annoying animated character, you can't help but like the guy. (Wouldn’t it be interesting to see him as a serial killer?) When asked by his future brother-in-law (interesting cast choice Danny McBride) if he’s “good” with being single, childless and not owning nor moving towards owning a home, he replies, “I’m good” and it’s Clooney’s smooth manner that makes us almost believe him.

So when a young upstart in his company (the bright Anna Kendrick) proposes firing people by teleconference to increase efficiency, thereby threatening Bingham’s seemingly care-free lifestyle and goal of obtaining a ridiculous number of frequent flier miles, viewers may find themselves feeling a certain amount of sadness for this very unanchored middle-aged man. And to the film’s credit, he doesn’t get let off the hook. When it appears he might actually make a connection with a fellow free spirit (Vera Farmiga), that carpet is pulled out from under him most brutally, in the film’s only truly surprising moment, leaving him once again alone, only now actually feeling it. But he is back up in the air.

If the topic weren’t so of the moment, the film might well come across as crassly manipulative. And indeed some of the scenes of the firings do feel a little too manufactured, with the exception of one outstanding scene involving an older man who reacts to his teleconference firing by breaking down and crying. That that particular scene has a certain power to it attests to a basic premise that Bingham, to his credit, has always professed: that firing someone is in fact a delicate situation best handled by someone, like himself, who can read people and steer them, however falsely, to buying into a positive spin on their “new lease on life.” The positive spin here is to convince the poor cad that this may be his/her last chance to pursue that dream they once had but that got buried under a regular paycheck and Christmas bonuses. That Bingham believes he is truly helping those employees and the fact that, compared to the teleconference method he is, creates a complex, interesting character.

Still, for anyone who has actually been (recently) fired, it may be hard to shake the fact that this is George Clooney, rich and famous movie actor. An unknown actor, with the necessary gravitas and charisma, might have given the film more weight. But then again, without Clooney, would people have flocked to it? At any rate, having one of the fired employees played by recognizable character actor J.K. Simmons (Juno), when others are reportedly “real” people who got axed in real life, is distracting and compromises the film’s intention of integrity. 3 out of 5 stars.

Mike Fishman

Concerto

2010-01-07T10:50:00.000-08:00

Ourspacemovieblog recently sat down with filmmaker Filippo Conz to talk about his film Concerto. Concerto screened at the Sundance Film Festival, the Hamptons International Film Festival, Palm Spring Shorts Film Festival, Aspen Shortsfest (BAFTA/LA Award for Excellence) and the 8th International Video Festival at the Beijing Film Academy (Audience Award for Best Film).

Short synopsis for Concerto: After losing an important homicide case, Detective Ray Lorenz returns home to discover his wife sleeping with Phillip, her violin teacher. When Ray impulsively kidnaps Phillip, the two go on a journey full of surprising revelations and ultimately, redemption.

Writer: Jon Haller
Producer: Pelin Uzay
Director of Photography: Gregory Mitnick
Editor: Filippo Conz & John Ayala
Cast: David Zayas, Trevor Long, Thomas Ryan, Laura Bonarrigo
Total Running Time: 15 min
Capture Format: DVCpro HD

Directors Bio:

Filippo Conz was born and raised in Milan. He earned his MFA in Directing at Columbia University, where his thesis film Concerto received the Hollywood Foreign Press Association Award, the Caucus Foundation Production Grant and the National Board of Review Student Grant. He is currently developing two feature projects at Zbabam Productions.

Contact:
Zbabam Productions
filippo@zbabam.com
www.zbabam.com
917-621-7908

Michael Fishman for Ourspacemovieblog (MF): Concerto was a collaboration, the script was written by (fellow Columbia Film Program MFA) Jon Haller. Was Concerto your first collaboration with Jon?

FC: No, actually we started working together first in 2007 on the script for another short film called Tymbals, which is currently in post-production. We had some issues with production and money, so Tymbals was postponed to the following year. I wanted to shoot something, though, so we decided to go back to an idea we had about a violin player, which comes from an incident that happened to Gabriel García Márquez. In his biography, Márquez says that once he was caught by a small town sheriff while sleeping with his wife. The sheriff confronted Márquez and took him into the kitchen, but there he just offered him some tequila and engaged him in a casual conversation. Eventually, the sheriff let the young Márquez go. That was one of the most terrifying experiences Márquez said he had ever had. So that’s where the idea of the film comes from. We obviously elaborated on this idea and gradually discovered the characters and some key images of the story. The final scene/image, in particular, haunted us and guided us during the entire development of the script. We knew from the beginning that we wanted the film to end up that way, so we had to reverse engineer the story and the characters, in a way. That final image of those two guys coming together in such an unexpected way was so strong and humanly beautiful to us that we felt we had to find the story and the characters that generated it. Ingmar Bergman mentioned somewhere that sometimes he would start with just an image. Sometimes directors start with characters, sometimes they start with plot, and sometimes they start with images. For me it’s whatever excites me most. So if it is a particular image, I start working on the image to try and understand what comes before and after. I then work on the character and the plot, but the image must stay there. With Concerto, there were actually two seminal images: the beginning, when Ray, the detective (David Zayas), is alone in his kitchen listening to his wife making love to a stranger (the violin teacher played by Trevor Long) – a terrible feeling, of course – and then the final image of these two guys coming together and in some way praying for those girls (who had been murdered), when the violin teacher plays some music as a kind of requiem. So we started to put the script together. I felt the idea was really strong, because the story could be summed up in a sentence.

MF: So you really built the story from these images.

FC: It was kind of like sculpting, finessing, trimming, to get all the little characters’ beats right, the character arcs, the plot progression and pacing. We worked really hard and meticulously because there was a lot of backstory to expose but we didn’t want to let that weigh the story down... at the same time, you want to be truthful to your characters. Jon and I worked on it together: Jon would give me a draft about every week and I would give him feedback. We went on until we felt ready. A script is never perfect, you can keep working on it and working on it but at a certain point you have to say, ok, this is good enough. Then we got feedback from some people we trusted and got into a program at Columbia where the script would be cast by (established casting director) Todd Thaler. Todd asked me who would I suggest for the roles and I told him I really see this actor David Zayas as the detective, who I’d seen in some TV shows, Dexter, in particular (and who played small roles in The Interpreter, Michael Clayton and The Savages). It turned out that Todd knew David personally so he sent him the script and David said he wanted to do it. I knew that to cast an actor like that would make my life so much easier and the work much better. Then I had to cast the other role and it was actually David who suggested Trevor Long. They had worked together in a play for the LAByrinth Theater Company, of which they are both members, and they are friends. Once I met Trevor, I knew right away he was perfect for the role of the violin teacher. At that point, I called up a great DP I had worked with many times before (Gregory Mitnick) and when he said he was on board, it became just a matter of putting everything else together – for which producer Pelin Uzay did a wonderful job. I knew I wanted to shoot very simply, because the script is so down to earth. I wanted to let the actors hit their beats and not put too much of myself and the camera into the story. I tried to be as invisible as possible, and the limited budget certainly helped me in not getting too fancy.

MF: You don’t have a lot of wide shots. The camera is often very close, whether in the house or the woods, which increases the intensity and claustrophobia of the characters. You’re really into the physical space of the characters, something Bergman, who you mentioned before, often does.

FC: It comes from the script. I mean, I build my shooting list from what I intuitively see while reading the script or thinking about it and from what I analytically think are the most important character and plot elements to highlight. From working on the script up to the final editing sessions, there is always an analytical aspect and also an intuitive aspect; some of the best decisions are made in a split seconds, but some others after a laborious thought process as well.

MF: So you knew and felt you had to have the camera be close.

FC: Yes, I wanted the camera to be close, I suppose. It wasn’t really a conscious choice, I didn’t think ‘I want the camera to be close’, I just did what I felt and thought was right to tell the story beat by beat. I’m thinking about it right now because we are discussing it but I can’t really imagine many wide shots for this story… you know, some rules that apply for a feature film are no longer true for a short. I discovered this especially when we edited. At some point, when the cut was 16 minutes long, it wasn’t really working and we started taking out some scenes. We had a scene where Ray (the detective) punches the violinist and we decided to remove that.

MF: When did that take place?

FC: When they get out of the car in the woods.

MF: It’s interesting that you took that out because that would have changed the dynamic between them.

FC: Yes, it was a big release of tension. But the way the script was, a punch would have been the death of suspense. You want to postpone the answer to the question you have planted as much as possible.

MF: And it would have made the detective less sympathetic.

FC: Yes, that too, certainly.

MF: Any other scenes that were left on the cutting floor?

FC: There was a scene right after the liquor store scene, which was so well-acted, I was really fond of it. It took place in the car and the detective kept asking the violin teacher if he was a swimmer. “Are you a swimmer? Do you like to swim? What strokes do you prefer?” The violin teacher didn’t want to answer and the detective was like “Answer the fucking question!” The thing was that Trevor was getting really scared of David, and I was, too, sometimes! He can really be scary, he is an intense actor. He has a lot of emotional energy that he is able to focus and channel into his performance. I guess I loved that scene so much because they were both so natural.

MF: Speaking of the liquor store scene, it seems to me that Ray (the detective) is a reformed alcoholic but here he is buying a bottle of whiskey. That seemed like a nice way to add some backstory in a subtle and quick way.

FC: In the first draft, we had him stopping at a diner, getting into a conversation with someone. People who read that draft suggested we cut it, so Jon came up with this way to get some backstory in and I really liked it, because of its subtlety. Another thing we cut out was part of the “confession” scene, as we called it. Originally, as they are walking up the hill in the woods, Ray confesses that he couldn’t have kids and some other personal details, but we cut that out. It’s the kind of thing that could have stayed if we were making a feature. It was very moving but it just didn’t belong in a short.

MF: That’s interesting because I did wonder a bit why the murders affected him so deeply. As a detective he must deal with death all the time, so why did the death of these two girls affect him so deeply? It’s true he let the killer slip through his hands but he seems to be taking the murders personally. So him not being able to have kids might have added more resonance.

FC: These are things that had to be cut for various reasons to make the film work as a short. Even the ending, we changed it quite a bit to make it almost silent. The violin teacher says he’s sorry and then just decides on his own to play the song the detective had asked him about earlier. Originally, we had a long dialogue between them. It was about why Ray, the detective, brought him to the woods. It just didn’t work. I had a chance to screen an early version of the film for director Milos Forman (Professor Emeritus, Columbia University Film Program), thanks to the Columbia University Film Program. I went to see Mr. Forman and I watched it with him. He said it was very good but when I asked if there was anything that didn’t work, he said the end, which was the extended ending at the time. He told me that it was a little melodramatic, and then discussed how in film big moments are usually better earned through very small actions. He suggested to cut out some of the back and forth, so we ended up that with the scene having just one line and the rest is all action, with the violin teacher playing. He says “I’m Sorry” and then plays the music, as a sort of gift for the detective, as a way to confirm he was really sorry and understood the detective sorrow, and why he brought him there. Not because he planned to have him playing the Bruch Violin Concerto there but because that tragedy was so shocking for him that he was inevitably pulled back there, especially after experiencing something so trivial like his wife having sex with her violin teacher. He just felt the urge to bring that treacherous violinist in front of something extremely tragic and serious that have just happened to him. I guess that was the best response the detective gave to the situation he faced at the beginning of the film. The violinist was intelligent enough to understand and follow up with a gesture of excuse, redemption and grace. That’s it. Before it was a full page of dialogue. Now it’s so much better and incisive.

MF: So you just cut out that dialogue.

FC: Yes, but it was good to have the actors play that dialogue because it was kind of a guideline for them, a sort of emotional map of what we wanted for the ending. If we had just that one line in the script, it would have been hard to create the right emotional beat, but since the actors went through it, even though we didn’t use it, it helped to create the right emotion, it made that “I’m sorry” so much more valuable and vulnerable. It was not that the dialogue was bad; on the contrary, it served a purpose: to bring the actors and me where we needed to be. They say you write the film three times: when you write the script, when you direct the film, and when you edit. So sometimes you have material on the written page that you know you’re not going to use but you need to have it there, for the actors, for you, and for anybody else involved. But many times you don’t even know it, so you just shoot and look at what the footage tells you afterwards.

MF: Regarding the ending, I found the final, overhead shot of the trees to be very powerful. I thought it took that scene to another level emotionally. Was that in the original script?

FC: Yes, it was. I usually name every scene with a metaphor: for example, I called the scene on the hill the “Confession” scene and I called the last scene the “Requiem” scene. Usually for a requiem, you have somebody playing music on the organ and someone is praying over the deceased’s body and you are inside a temple or church. And such places usually have lines in the architecture that create a certain space and atmosphere that make you look upward. I tried to create the same effect of being inside a religious temple, with sounds of nature, birds, and the lines of the trees that are, in some way, the vertical lines of a temple: they guide and pull your gaze up, pointing at something higher than ourselves. So, while writing the script, we called that last shot the “Temple” shot.

MF: How long was the shoot?

FC: Five days. We only worked 9-5 because David was in a play at the Public Theater, so we were limited to that schedule, but it went really well. Everything went very smoothly. I only shoot 4 or 5:1, I only do about 4 or 5 takes, and the actors were really good so we really had very few problems. It was probably the best shoot I was ever on.

MF: Did you rehearse a lot?

FC: No, I only had rehearsal with them one day and then we did some rehearsals on set, very quickly. They were so good, we only had to talk and rehearse five or ten minutes before every scene, and them boom, shoot it. Many days we were done by 4:00.

MF: So story-wise, what do you see happening now? To the affair? Is that over?

FC: The sequel. (laughs) Actually, with the actors we were speculating what happens before and after the story starts, and what we worked out is that the violin teacher had been planning on ending the affair that day; it was going to be their last time together because he just got an offer from an orchestra in another town, finally, so he’s going to move, which made Trevor’s part much more dramatic. Trevor is such a great actor to work with. He is always troubled about getting all the details right and is constantly searching, whereas David is more assured and just listens to your input if you have any. On set we achieved a great balance. To me it was like working with my two big brothers: a younger one (Trevor) and an older one (David). The fact is they are two wonderful actors and I feel blessed to had the chance of working with them. I learned a lot from them. We still keep in touch, we want to make more films together.

MF: Meanwhile the detective wife is still in the bedroom wondering what happened to him.

FC: She’ll probably never know. Jon and I have talked about writing a multi-narrative feature with these characters, so who knows, we may see them again. There were a lot of scenes that we had to imagine just to write this short script that we couldn’t possibly film, like when the detective went to interview the guy who turned out to be the killer, or every night when the detective would come home and hear that song his wife was learning (which the violin teacher plays for him in the woods). We thought a lot about Mystic River, for example.

MF: That last shot we discussed reminded me of Clint Eastwood and how often he’ll hold the final shot while the credits role, as in Gran Torino, he just holds that shot while the closing credits roll. Particularly in a theater I think it gives the audience time to take the film in. I think your closing shot, although brief, works in a similar fashion to give the viewer a moment to take the film in as a whole, perhaps to consider that both of these men, who have come together and made some kind of peace, have guilt: the violin teacher just had sex with the detective’s wife, the detective had let a killer slip through his fingers.

FC: Yes, it makes you think about the story.

MF: More so than if the film just cut to black and the credits started rolling. It allows for a transition –

FC: Back to real life. I think in this way the closing image can take the viewer back into reality in a smooth way, not so abruptly as if you just cut to black.

MF: I think if you had ended with the shot of Ray it would have still been satisfying but it wouldn’t have had the spiritual feeling you get from seeing the tops of the trees.

FC: I think that shot pertains to the why of the story: why are we telling this story, what’s it all about? What am I supposed to think about it? In this film, we deal with two strong themes, Eros (love) and Thanatos (death). In the beginning you have Eros offscreen, and at the end you have Thanatos offscreen. This is why the closing shot is so important.

MF: Thank you for your time.

FC: My pleasure.

For more information about Concerto, visit the website: www.zbabam.com or the facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/#/group.php?v=info&ref=ts&gid=38645478438

Ingmar Bergman interview from 1972

2009-11-08T20:47:00.000-08:00

See an excerpt of an Ingmar Bergman interview from 1972 here.

Source: YouTube

Where the Wild Things Are

2009-11-06T18:33:00.000-08:00

Screenplay by Spike Jonz and Dave Eggers; Directed by Spike Jonz

It was inevitable that Maurice Sendak’s classic if dark children’s book would be made into a movie, having already been brought to the stage and with Hollywood constantly looking to any classic or beloved material that would have a built-in audience. That the 1963 book contains only 9 full sentences of actual text and would therefore present a challenge quite opposite to that usually facing adaptations to the big screen, wherein the dense and detailed world of a novel must be pared down to a 120-page or so script, gave the prospect of this particular adaptation special intrigue. That the helmer would be Spike Jonz (Adaptation, Being John Malkovich) only increased the curiosity factor. And so off I went, of course; had to see this on the big screen and I gave it the full benefit of seeing it on the biggest screen possible, IMAX. The Gods even seemed to be with us as my companion and I scored the best seats in the house, last row center.

For the most part, Jonz and Sendak, credited as a producer, succeed in translating the highly original visuals of the book in a believable and engaging way. The story is nicely fleshed out, taking us from the real world to the island of fantasy where the wild things are, the transition from real world to other world handled in a most unmagical, straightforward way, underscoring that the world of the wild things is not that far removed from our own. We all have a wild thing within us, don’t we? The film moves along at a leisurely pace, and costumes and makeup are top-notch. The sense of journey, if not fun, is fully-realized, recreating the beats from Sendak’s book following the petulant, rowdy Max (Max Records, The Brothers Bloom) as he runs away from and eventually returns to the loving embrace of his mother (the always-welcome Catherine Keener) who had been the target of one of Max’s temper tantrums and, literally, bitten by (the wild thing in) Max.

Though the film works as a journey though there is little feeling for adventure . Max as portrayed here is comes across more as a spoiled brat than a willful child, and it’s hard to feel sympathy for this not-particularly likable kid when he starts a snowball fight with his older sister’s friends, then cries when they destroy an igloo he had made. Though the creatures are wonderful and the world is nicely delivered to fans of the book, the film starts to feel a bit stuffy and devoid of life. The soundtrack doesn’t help either, occasionally veering into smarmy territory. I couldn’t help thinking how an instrumental master like Pat Metheny could have added immeasurably to the film. Metheny might seem like an odd choice but his billowing landscapes, used sparingly, might have lifted the film up to a level where we actually felt and cared. Even Mark Isham could have contributed a more wondrous tone. What should have been overwhelming was merely entertaining. That’s a little disappointing considering the time, effort, money and talent put into this project, and because it’s the only Where the Wild Things Are we’ll ever get. Can’t exactly see a sequel here.

The originality of the book makes this well-worth seeing, even required viewing. What's surprising, and telling, is that it didn't NEED to be seen on the big screen, never mind IMAX. Which, with a wild thing, you kinda thought would have to be the case. 3 out of 5 stars.

Review by Michael Fishman.

Danny Deckchair

2009-11-06T12:45:00.000-08:00

Written and directed by Jeff Balsmeyer

Worth A Look

This is a terrific and original romantic fantasy from Australia that was a blip on the big screen upon release in 2004 but almost deserves to become a cult classic. I say almost because it’s not quite as outlandish as its plot, inspired by the true story of the infamous “Lawnchair Larry (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larry_Walters) would indicate: a bored city man ties helium-filled balloons to a lawn chair and takes flight, reinventing himself in the far-off, quaint town he lands in and finding his true soul mate. Though clearly the plot is out there enough to have kept audiences at arms’ length, who could not be faulted for expecting a too-quirky or sentimental fable, first-time writer/director Jeff Balsmeyer, an experienced story-board artist with an extraordinary list of credits, keeps the tone light and easy and while the film is filled with sentiment, it avoids outright sentimentality and the earnestness that would have upended the balancing act such a film requires. The result is a disarmingly good romantic fantasy.

Lead actors Rhys Ifans and the immensely likable Miranda Otto imbue their scenes (even and especially the “touching” ones) with heartfelt nuance, and the movie floats along sweetly, occasionally surprising with outstanding special effects and stunts. Shots of Ifans character being catapulted by a giant slingshot and floating on the chair into a lightening storm are rendered entirely believable. A truly funny comedy-fantasy about love that is heartfelt, surprising and filled with great performances: what more can you ask? Definitely worth a look; available from Netflix.

Review by Michael Fishman.

Jennifer's Body

2009-11-03T08:24:00.000-08:00

Written by Diablo Cody; directed by Karyn Kusama

I’m not ashamed to say it: I enjoyed the hell out of this movie. A great horror flick? No. Consistently funny? Eh, not really. But entertaining? Most definitely. And that’s what I go to a horror film for, entertainment and escape. I’m not looking to empathize, or sympathize, with any of the characters. If that babysitter is dumb enough to go up that creaky staircase with that failing flashlight when she knows full well an entire family was brutally murdered in the upstairs bedroom exactly one year ago to the day and the killer is back on the loose and the rumor is he left something hidden in the back of the closet underneath the floorboards, well, she’s probably gonna get exactly what she deserves. After a long, scream-filled chase, of course, during which (hopefully) my pulse will race and popcorn will stuff my face. I certainly won’t be thinking “Gee, what a sweet girl, I hope she finds her one true love” or “How sad, his life is so empty” or even, “When am I going to do my laundry?” No, if the horror film is any good, I will be so lost in the film, so filled with delicious suspense, that my disbelief will be entirely suspended and I will just be experiencing the suspense and the danger lurking behind every door and edit.

And so, given that it’s a given that Jennifer’s Body is no modern horror classic, the only real question I had to ask after seeing this wanna-be horror-comedy was, how entertaining was it? And the answer: quite, actually, quite entertaining. The script by Juno scribe Diablo Cody is not as clever as it thinks it is, and the direction by Aeon Flux director Karyn Kusama is not as suspenseful as it should be. But there are a few genuine laughs and a few small surprises and most importantly for a horror film, a few delectable intense visuals, such as Jennifer (Megan Fox) possessed by a demon on all fours on a kitchen floor gnawing her way like an animal through a cooked chicken that she clearly would prefer a little more on the raw side. Say, alive and bloody. And the real star of the film, Amanda Seyfried, gives a terrific performance as Jennifer’s BFF and who we watch turn from sweet (though not-completely innocent) to vicious, ultimately straddling Jennifer’s dead body, plunging a knife into her heart. Nice. Oh, and then Jennifer’s Mom walks in and freaks. Very nice. Anyone looking for a modern horror classic, or a daring satire on the order of Heathers will be disappointed. Anyone with an open mind, low expectations and looking to be entertained and to forget about the laundry for an hour and a half will be entertained. A 45% rating on Rotten Tomatoes’ Tomatometer seems about right. 2 1/2 stars out of 5.

Review by Michael Fishman.

The Secret Friend

2009-09-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

Michael Fishman of Ourspacemovieblog sat down recently with writer/director Flavio Alves to talk about Flavio’s latest short film The Secret Friend. Excerpts from that discussion follow.

Synopsis for The Secret Friend: Based on a short story by João Silvério Trevisan. A reclusive, elderly widow, Anna Marshall (Viola Harris), lives in quiet desperation until she begins receiving daily calls from a silent stranger. An odd and mysterious friendship evolves between the two, as Anna begins to share her life experiences with startling honesty. Empty days are given new hope, but when the calls abruptly end, a devastated Anna is compelled to surprising action to fill the unbearable void.

Written and directed by Flavio Alves (M.F.A., Film, NYU). Flavio’s previous short film, Even in My Dreams, received the Technisphere Award from NYU for Best Student Film, and has been screened at a variety of film festivals all over the world.

Michael Fishman for Ourspacemovieblog (M): For this film, you adapted a short story by Brazilian writer João Silvério Trevisan. What drew you to the story and made you want to make a film based on it?

Flavio Alves (F): Age issues are very important to me, and all of my films deal with elderly people, either they have a main character that is elderly or deal with elderly people. My previous film, Even in My Dreams has to do with an elderly man who just happened to be gay; actually a lot of people think it’s a film about being gay, but really it’s a film about being different, and it portrays this older man dealing with his sexuality. The Secret Friend, however, is something different. With The Secret Friend, I tried to talk about the isolation that elderly people face on a daily basis. In general, our society neglects to talk about the experience of elderly people and as a filmmaker I want to make sure that whenever I talk about issues of the elderly that I talk about the real experiences, not the stereotypes we usually see in movies or on TV, or in commercials. They are just like everyone else; they have fun, they lie, they have sex, there is no difference between them and us. They are us, actually, what we will become eventually. On the other hand, they face unique problems which are mostly connected to their age such as low income, health problems, and lack of support from family and community. So, as a filmmaker, I want to address these issues, but also I want to explore their identity and even their sexuality.

M: Did that interest, wanting to focus on issues of the elderly, come from a specific experience, or is it just something that you were always interested in?

F: Well, my personal life touches on this issue in a number of ways. First of all, I have a relationship with someone who is a number of years older than I am. Secondly, I come from a country (Brazil) where elderly people are more respected. In Brazil, although of course I can’t speak for everyone, but generally speaking we take care of our elderly. The family feels an obligation to take care of their parents. We live with them, we share daily experiences with them. But in America, we isolate them so we don’t know much about their lives, and there’s so much we can learn from them. Again, as long as we live a long life, we’re going to be there some day ourselves. In America it’s very much that no one wants to get old. And so people spend a lot of effort and money on staying young and on looking younger, and I understand that but I don’t think it helps to separate the elderly from our society, to reject them. I don’t think that’s a good way of living. That’s why in The Secret Friend, I wanted to show their isolation and actually, it’s a statement about the struggles and unique challenges they face every day.

M: When did you first read the story?

F: I read it first perhaps fifteen years ago while living in Brazil. João Silvério Trevisan, a very famous writer in Brazil, published a collection of short stories, and I was fascinated with the way he described this experience of an elderly lady, Anna (played by veteran stage and film actress Viola Harris), who lives alone and suddenly started receiving calls from a silent stranger, every day promptly at 3:30pm. At first she finds the calls intrusive and tells the caller that they are invading her privacy, but as the calls continue unabated Anna finds herself waiting for her phone to ring. At one point, for example, when the stranger calls 15 minutes late one afternoon, Anna realizes just how dependent she has become on the calls. For a young person, it would be hard to believe that someone would ever share his or her personal live with a stranger, but for someone lonely like Anna, isolated in her own world, it makes total sense… this is the only thing she had to look forward to. She lives alone in a house, she is a widow, and she is depressed. Now, she has this friend, this secret friend she can talk to, tell about her day and her experiences, her stories. Then, at the stroke of midnight, the silence is broken at last when the stranger speaks. Anna is startled—overjoyed and incredulous. The voice is that of a man. He thanks Anna for the gift of her friendship, wishes her the best for the future, and says goodbye and he never calls back again. She goes to the phone company to try and track him down but is unable to because it’s a private number. So she goes home and she looks even worse than ever, but she will do something that will surprise us all. Well, I can’t tell the rest of the story… it will be soon playing in major cities around the world, including New York City.

M: The original story had a tragic ending. Did the writer accept your new (more upbeat) ending?

F: Trevisan at first was not happy with this change, but he eventually agreed. When I first met him, I brought up the change in the ending, in our very first meeting, and that was the only issue he had and I knew that he was not comfortable with it. But I explained that for a short film, I felt a happy ending would be more appropriate than a tragic one. And when I sent him the script, he liked it. He said, “OK, I think my character can live with that.”

M: I understand you are interested in expanding this into a feature film.

F: Yes. What I would like to do is expand her experiences with the outside world. For example, having her son come to visit but he immediately starts to think about when he is going to leave, or having her daughter come and look around the house and tell Anna to make sure she leaves certain things to her when she dies. But also I would like to show more of Anna encountering the outside world… at odds with it and those who live within it. Walking in the street, seeing people at a restaurant she passes, they are in a completely different world. I would like to explore that, to educate people about this, the life of the elderly. I very much want to push the envelope on these issues. My next film is about an elderly lady who falls in love with someone much younger than herself, perhaps forty years. I really want to do this film not because I think it is shocking, but because there is nothing in the world that says it can’t happen. And I am sure it is happening somewhere. Although intergenerational relationships between older man and younger woman is nothing new, the other way around is virtually invisible.

M: There’s a great sense of transformation in Anna. At the beginning, she’s rather irritable, but eventually, after the calls start coming, she goes back to knitting, something she obviously used to enjoy a great deal but had stopped doing, and she begins confiding in her silent caller. And the music works so well, to emphasize this transformation.

F: Yes, as we go along, the music becomes more jazzy, more upbeat. Jack Woodbridge has worked with me in the past on my previous film, Even in My Dreams, and did a fantastic job, so I brought him again to work with me on The Secret Friend. I sat with him and told him, this is the mood I want you to give to the film, to stay with her, to be sympathetic to her, to make sure people understand what it means to be in her skin. We discussed some films that had a similar tone that I was looking for, such as About Schmidt (directed and co-written by Alexander Payne). I used that film as a reference when we were making The Secret Friend, especially when Schmidt (Jack Nicholson) retires, and when his wife dies. After those things happen, he has nothing, he is alone. That was the mood I wanted to convey. The sadness of Anna in isolation, and then the happier feelings after she starts getting the calls, and the music becomes more jazzy and more upbeat. A short film is, in some ways, more difficult than a longer film, in that you have a very short period of time to get everything across - your characters, your setting, your story. So music is one of the most important tools that one can use. And sound plays a big part in other ways. If you listen, there is a clock in her house that goes “tick, tick, tick.” In fact, we removed some music from some scenes so the audience could hear the clock better. That kind of sound is very important to help portray her life, how long and lonely her days are. Even her phone is an old style rotary phone so we hear it when she dials. All of this adds to the portrait of her character.

M: What was your shooting schedule like?

F: We shot in five days. And I have a lot of footage we did not use. The shooting ratio was about ten to one.

M: Did you rehearse a lot?

F: No, I am not a big fan of rehearsals but it does not mean I don’t want the actors to be prepared. I always like to have a nice conversation with each of them in order to relax them.,. to make the actors comfortable with me and rest of the crew around them. So, for example, with Viola, we had a few minutes conversation about her character and she was ready for the shoot. I like them to come fresh without any direction and if I have to made some adjustments or have suggestions, I will tell them, but otherwise, I wanted to see what she would bring to the role. And everytime, what she came up with was not what I was expecting, but each time, it was better than what I had in mind. So I was very pleased. There were a few times when I or she would say, I don’t think the character would do that, and we would discuss it; we would go back to the script and talk it out, and come up with the answer, the right approach. I was open to the actors trying different things, but at the same time, I wanted to make sure I stayed true to my vision. I wanted to make sure we achieved the tone and mood I had in mind. Like with the ending, we had different ways of her laughing, several different takes. When I saw the dailies and I saw what she did in one take (what she came up with), which to some people seemed like it might be over the top, I liked it, and that’s the take I used.

M: You shot on film, which is somewhat unusual for a short film these days.

F: Yes, we shot with 35mm for many reasons. First, Kodak had agreed to donate part of the stock, and second, and most importantly, considering the nature of the story, shooting in 35mm would make more sense, in order to get the look I was expecting for this film. However, I have to admit that shooting in 35mm helped us to get our cast, crew, and investors more excited. The actors we were going for were much more interested when they found out it was being shot on film. Nothing can replace can shooting on film.

M: Thank you for your time today.

F: Thank you.

For more information on The Secret Friend, please visit the official website at:

http://www.thesecretfriendmovie.com/

Julie and Julia

2009-09-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

Screenplay by Nora Ephron, based on the book Julie & Julia
written by Julie Powell and My Life in France written by
Julia Child and Alex Prud'homme

Directed by Nora Epron

In a word: Go. This is a film that, like many of the dishes prepared and consumed, deserves to be savored with fellow food-lovers and should have a healthy second life on DVD. Hopefully the filmmakers will see fit to include plenty of juicy extras, particularly footage of Julia Child in action on her TV show so viewers who haven’t seen the real thing can appreciate what a great job Meryl Streep does in impersonating Julia.

Actually, impersonating doesn’t quite encompass what Streep, as usual, does here. She more inhabits the character, submerging herself and re-emerging as Julia Child in gestures both large and small, doing what so few major movie stars are able to: make the audience believe they are observing the character being portrayed on-screen. In fact, the only real major weaknesses to this film come whenever we switch to the parallel story-line of Julie Powell, the blogger who spent a year working her way through Julia Child’s tome, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and blogging about it. Although portrayed by the ever-likable Amy Adams, Julie is so self-absorbed and narcissistic she is somewhat repellant and one can understand why Julia Child (reportedly) disliked the idea of her blog. Whether Julia Child actually read it or not, the blog is certainly more about Julie than the food, and one must admit (even fellow bloggers) that there is something inherently manipulative about blogging. There is little doubt that Powell has great respect and love for Julia Child. Maybe someone told Julia about all those four-letter words Powell likes to use.

At any rate, Julia Child’s story is simply far more interesting, her character enthralling and captivating, and Streep imbues the role with great humor and a few moments of believable, painful reflection. Stanley Tucci, as her loving husband, best friend and constant moral supporter, delivers a note-perfect performance. Some steam is lost occasionally when the film moves back to Julie’s story and for a film largely about food (rich, buttery, dripping food), there is a surprising lack of voyeuristic reveling allowed the audience. Oh sure, a few tastes here and there but we’re not given enough of the “aroma” of the food being prepared and devoured (forget 3-D, how about giving the audience aroma-surround?!). So audiences will leave the theater not quite as hungry for a rich French meal as they might expect, but satisfied all the same and probably intrigued enough to want to try out at least one recipe. May I recommend the Beef Bourguignon? It’s very good tonight.

Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon

Adapted from "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" by Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle and Simone Beck (Alfred A. Knopf, 1961)

Ingredients
One 6-ounce piece of chunk bacon
3 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
3 pounds lean stewing beef, cut into 2-inch cubes
1 carrot, sliced
1 onion, sliced
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons flour
3 cups red wine, young and full-bodied (like Beaujolais, Cotes du Rhone or Burgundy)
2 1/2 to 3 1/2 cups brown beef stock
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 cloves mashed garlic
1/2 teaspoon thyme
A crumbled bay leaf
18 to 24 white onions, small
3 1/2 tablespoons butter
Herb bouquet (4 parsley sprigs, one-half bay leaf, one-quarter teaspoon thyme, tied in cheesecloth)
1 pound mushrooms, fresh and quartered

Cooking Directions

Remove bacon rind and cut into lardons (sticks 1/4-inch thick and 1 1/2 inches long). Simmer rind and lardons for 10 minutes in 1 1/2 quarts water. Drain and dry.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Sauté lardons in 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a flameproof casserole over moderate heat for 2 to 3 minutes to brown lightly. Remove to a side dish with a slotted spoon.

Dry beef in paper towels; it will not brown if it is damp. Heat fat in casserole until almost smoking. Add beef, a few pieces at a time, and sauté until nicely browned on all sides. Add it to the lardons.

In the same fat, brown the sliced vegetables. Pour out the excess fat.

Return the beef and bacon to the casserole and toss with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper.

Then sprinkle on the flour and toss again to coat the beef lightly. Set casserole uncovered in middle position of preheated oven for 4 minutes.

Toss the meat again and return to oven for 4 minutes (this browns the flour and coves the meat with a light crust).

Remove casserole and turn oven down to 325 degrees.

Stir in wine and 2 to 3 cups stock, just enough so that the meat is barely covered.

Add the tomato paste, garlic, herbs and bacon rind. Bring to a simmer on top of the stove.

Cover casserole and set in lower third of oven. Regulate heat so that liquid simmers very slowly for 3 to 4 hours. The meat is done when a fork pierces it easily.

While the beef is cooking, prepare the onions and mushrooms.

Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons butter with one and one-half tablespoons of the oil until bubbling in a skillet.

Add onions and sauté over moderate heat for about 10 minutes, rolling them so they will brown as evenly as possible. Be careful not to break their skins. You cannot expect them to brown uniformly.

Add 1/2 cup of the stock, salt and pepper to taste and the herb bouquet.

Cover and simmer slowly for 40 to 50 minutes until the onions are perfectly tender but hold their shape, and the liquid has evaporated. Remove herb bouquet and set onions aside.

Wipe out skillet and heat remaining oil and butter over high heat. As soon as you see butter has begun to subside, indicating it is hot enough, add mushrooms.

Toss and shake pan for 4 to 5 minutes. As soon as they have begun to brown lightly, remove from heat.

When the meat is tender, pour the contents of the casserole into a sieve set over a saucepan.

Wash out the casserole and return the beef and lardons to it. Distribute the cooked onions and mushrooms on top.

Skim fat off sauce in saucepan. Simmer sauce for a minute or 2, skimming off additional fat as it rises. You should have about 2 1/2 cups of sauce thick enough to coat a spoon lightly.

If too thin, boil it down rapidly. If too thick, mix in a few tablespoons stock. Taste carefully for seasoning.

Pour sauce over meat and vegetables. Cover and simmer 2 to 3 minutes, basting the meat and vegetables with the sauce several times.

Serve in casserole, or arrange stew on a platter surrounded with potatoes, noodles or rice, and decorated with parsley.

Eat too much. Take antacid.

Review by Michael Fishman.

Interview with Antonio Mendez Esparza and Diana Wade

2009-08-25T11:36:00.000-07:00

Michael Fishman recently sat down with filmmaker Antonio Mendez Esparza and producer Diana Wade to discuss the making of Antonio’s award-wining short film Una Y Otra Vez (Time and Again), winner for Best Narrative Short at the 2009 Los Angeles Film Festival.

Excerpts from that conversation follow.

Brief synopsis of the film: Pedro, an immigrant in Paterson, New Jersey, and top worker at a wire-basket factory, believes he will be promoted to manager and gathers his courage to ask a waitress on a date.

Michael Fishman for Ourspacemovieblog (M): I’m always fascinated by titles, where a title comes from and what its intention is. Can you say something about your title Time and Again, and the way the film is split into three distinct parts, “Without Her,” “With Her,” and “Without Her”?

Antonio Mendez Esparza (A): Yes, well Time and Again refers to a succession of events that somehow repeat themselves. The film finishes on kind of an optimistic note so the idea is, there is always hope. As for the titles within the film, I liked the idea of how you can define a section of the film with titles. I had never used them before in that way, but it felt like a very solid way to organize the film, in these three parts.

M: Is part of the optimistic idea that something may end, but something new may begin?

A: Yes.

M: And in fact the film ends with the character of Pedro (Pedro Santos) becoming the musician he wanted to be, even though he has apparently lost the girl, Teresa (Erica Heras). Prior to that final scene, Pedro had run into Teresa outside a store, and it’s kind of an open ending in that you’re not really sure what’s going to happen with them, if they are going to get back together or not. I wanted to ask about that scene where he sees her outside the store. It’s a short scene, they have a very short conversation. Was that scene longer, and did you edit it?

A: Actually yes, it was a little bit longer. In the original scene, she exits the shot. But I thought it was more powerful to leave it to the audience to decide what she might say, and so instead we go to a long shot as she is getting ready to leave. I found in the editing that I would rather leave it a question as to what happens.

Diana Wade (D): I think that’s a really good moment. I think it would be hard to have her say anything that wouldn’t seem trite or cliché. I take it as she doesn’t really respond because sometimes you can’t really say anything, (in those situations) there is nothing to say. I think it really adds to the film not to have anything said at that moment.

M: Right, and for me as a viewer, I wasn’t really sure if they might get together again or not.

A: That is often the first question people ask after seeing the film.

M: And so I would ask you (laughs), do you see them getting together?

A: No. (laughs) I don’t.

M: Which doesn’t surprise me because for her, it does seem to be over. Particularly in an earlier scene after their break-up where Pedro goes to see Teresa at the restaurant where she works, and he’s thrown out; she does cry but it seems to be more that she’s just upset and not that she misses him. And in fact there’s an even earlier scene, when they are still together, in bed at night, and he asks her, “Do you still love me?” and she doesn’t answer.

D: That’s right, she doesn’t answer.

M: Antonio, you wrote the script as well, and I’m curious, which came first, story or character?

A: Character was first. Actually, the character of Pedro originally was a boxer So the film had a much more darker side. He was a lightweight and not a very good boxer but had some success in Mexico. Now, working in a factory, he wanted to go back to boxing, so instead of the music it was the boxing. But when we cast Pedro, we decided that he would be a musician.

M: Speaking of Pedro, both Pedro and Erica are not actors, is that right?

A: Yes.

M: To your great credit as director, you won two awards at the Columbia University Film Festival (where he earned an MFA in Film): the David Jones Memorial Award (for directing actors) and the Student Choice Award for Best Directing of Actors. And in the citation for your award from the Los Angeles Film Festival for Best Narrative Short Film, they point to your cast “which brought a refreshing realism.” So, regarding Pedro, how did you find him? Was the fact that he was in real life a musician part of the decision to cast him?

A: No, we cast for a very long time. At first, we were going to boxing clubs, because the character was going to be a boxer. I posted ads in Latin newspapers. I was really looking everywhere, trains, buses, following my friends suggestions. But then I saw Pedro working at Fairway (as a stock clerk) and I told him I was going to make a film and I would like to test him for it. And he said no, actually (laughs). And I thought, this was good! But I convinced him to come to the casting and he was great. It was my first time working with nonprofessional actors and I knew I had to devise a new strategy. I saw immediately that I couldn’t make him be a boxer, and that I shouldn’t. I was very happy to find out he was a musician, and decided to work with that.

D: Another interesting thing is that in the film Pedro takes swimming lessons. That was always there, and when we met Pedro, he told us he couldn’t swim. We knew we couldn’t film him swimming if he didn’t know how to swim. So, he actually learned how to swim for the role. He learned in four weeks.

A: Yes, we got him a private instructor, Scott, a very nice guy, he’s actually the instructor in the film but you don’t really see him, he’s not in the shot during the swimming scenes. The people in charge of the Teachers College Aquatic Center were very helpful.

D: Luckily Pedro was a natural swimmer!

A: Yes.

(Both laugh.)

M: And Erica, who plays Teresa, she also is not an actress. Was that a case of, did you have somebody in mind before her?

A: Funny enough, I felt she was just right for the character from the very beginning. We saw some other people (who were actors) but she was our first choice, and luckily she said yes. So, for a long time we had our main female lead but not the male lead.

M: Was your direction of them as non-actors different from when you directed actors in the past?

A: Well, it was a very intuitive process, even though I heard about many different people doing different things in this situation. The characters, I think, molded to Pedro and Erica.. The film characters are a mix: they start from what is written, but then evolve from what the actors brought to the roles. I tried to stay away from imposing a defined character and many times I relied on their instincts. I could surprise them, but very few times, actually. The key for me was for them to trust each other. Once they were engaged with what was happening, their reactions and choices were very good. That was maybe the challenge, sometimes, to get them to engage. I was very fortunate, I think. The casting made everything feel just right.

M: There’s a very interesting moment where, it’s their second meeting and Pedro invites Teresa to go swimming, which is fairly intimate, you know, for potentially their first date, and Erica does a great job with that moment. She shows what I think people would really show in that moment; she’s flattered, but also taken aback and a bit uncertain and wary. Was that a one-take?

A: No, we had to do that a few times. We were really aiming for moments, to capture, like, fractions of things, so it didn’t just happen. That, we had to work at.

M: How long was the shoot?

A: Eight days.

D: Eight days. There was a lot of jumping back and forth between locations, because we shot in order of the story.

A: Not in order totally but we wouldn’t shoot all the scenes that took place in each location if we didn’t have to. We shot in the factory first, when he is teaching his friend, then the apartment scenes when he and Teresa were together, and then the scenes when they were no longer together. That was a little demanding for the production but I thought it would help to give them a reference of where they were (story-wise).

M: Did you think that was important because they weren’t professional actors?

A: I just think it’s very helpful if you can do it, if you can work this way. Most of the time, because of the production needs, you don’t even consider doing it. But if you can do it, to me, it’s more organic, shooting it this way. I wish I could shoot like this all the time.

M: Stylistically, you alternate to some degree between fairly still shots and hand-held camera. What was your intention in using these contrasting styles?

A: When I was planning the film, I thought the film would be more still, but as I soon as I started shooting, I understood the film needed more movement, that the film needed both. I think the hand-held shots function to get us closer to the characters, to make the film more dynamic in a way . So the final film is a mix of what I had planned originally and what occurred to me during the shooting, what were my instincts basically.

M: You have a very interesting scene where Teresa is learning English, in a class along with other non-native English speakers, and the class sings Happy Birthday to one of the students. I’m just curious, was that a scene you wrote as it appears in the film…?

A: No, that was an actual class, everyone else in the class are non-actors and were there for the class. We just filmed the class basically, and in the class it was someone’s birthday and they sang to him, so we filmed it and later I thought it would be nice to include it.

M: It adds a nice touch of realism.

A: Yes.

M: What is your next project?

A: Trying to make a feature. Similar to the short, kind of a continuation of the short. I’m hoping to go to Mexico and shoot it there. Hopefully I can go to Mexico soon and start writing. And trying to see where this short can go, as well.

D: We’d really like to see it get on television, because when we’ve shown this film, so many people have come up to us and said how this resonates with them, and some of them are immigrants or know people who are immigrants; it speaks to people, it really touches people, and I think that’s something very nice that’s come out of this. So we’d really like to see it reach as wide an audience as possible, to somehow have this film made accessible to people whose experiences are similar to the experiences of the characters in the film.

M: Right.

D: Now that we won the award at the Los Angeles Film Festival, that may make it a little easier to get distribution, but it is still a difficult process.

A: Yes.

M: Congratulations again on winning for Best Narrative Short at the Los Angeles Film Festival.

A: Thank you. That was a great experience.

M: And thank you both for your time today.

For more information, please contact Antonio at: antoniomendezesparza@gmail.com.

The Postmen in the Mountains

2009-07-31T13:55:00.000-07:00

Written by Wu Si; Directed by Huo Jianqi

On DVD.

This quietly beautiful film, directed by Beijing Film Academy alum Huo Jianqi, is well-worth seeking out; Netflix caries it though I got it from the public library, which is fortunate since it’s not like I can pop into a video store anymore. I live in Manhattan and sadly there is not a single video store now within walking distance of my Upper West Side neighborhood. When I moved here ten years ago, there were three major video stores, all of whom would likely have carried this film.

The Postmen in the Mountains (the Chinese title translates literally as "That Mountain, That Man, That Dog") was made in 1999 and tells the story of a retiring rural postman (Ten Rujun, winner of a Golden Rooster Award for his spot-on performance) whose son is taking over his route. The two set out on what will be the father’s final route and the son’s first, and during the literal journey bond as they never have before as the son gains new respect for the difficulties his father’s chosen profession presents. The father’s beloved dog, Buddy, who for years always accompanied and served him along the route, gradually transfers his undying loyalty from father to son; a final scene where that transformation is completed is quite remarkable. As the literal translation of the title indicates, the dog is as much a character in the film as the father and the son, and the mountains (imposing, impartial, dangerous and beautiful) inform every step they take.

Part of the beauty in this film comes from the landscape (filmed on location in southwestern and southern Hunan) and nature is used exquisitely throughout. Astounding moments abound, such as a marvelous tracking shot of a paper airplane floating above the ethereal countryside and a treacherous climb up the side of a mountain. Impressively, the importance of mail to the isolated recipients living in the mountains, who have limited interaction with the outside world, is handled without sentimentality while getting the point across.

Huo Jianqi uses myriad devices in the director’s arsenal, all in direct service to the story being told: slow-motion to emphasize an emotional moment; pans that sweep over the landscape’s silent beauty; hand-held camera to convey immediacy and danger; and the occasional long-take, including the final shot held during the closing credits, a trademark of the films of Clint Eastwood , that gives the audience a lasting moment of reflection at the end of the film, a moment to savor and take in the film as a whole rather than just rush on to the next thing.

At 90 minutes, not a frame is wasted in this carefully constructed , smoothly edited and heart-felt film. The only negative is the subtitling on the DVD. Rendered in white, the titles are frequently hard to read. But the film is so visual, the story does not suffer as a whole.

5 stars out of stars.

Awards and nominations for The Postmen in the Mountains:

* Golden Rooster Awards, 1999
o Best Actor - Ten Rujun
o Best Film
* Awards of the Japanese Academy, 2002
o Best Foreign Film (nominated)
* Mainichi Film Concours, 2002
o Best Foreign Language Film
* Montréal World Film Festival, 2002
o People's Choice Award
o Grand Prix des Amériques (nominated)

Review written by Mike Fishman.

Whatever Works

2009-07-16T09:43:00.000-07:00

Written and directed by Woody Allen

Given the weak word of mouth and reviews attributed to this, Woody Allen’s fortieth feature film as a director, I was pleasantly surprised to find it engaging, funny and even, to some degree, thought-provoking. A mixed-bag offering based on a script Allen originally wrote in the mid-1970’s, Whatever Works often feels dated in its sexual politics and unconvincing in its themes but is full of laugh out-loud one-liners and features excellent work from Evan Rachel Wood (The Wrestler, Across the Universe) and enjoyable appearances from an impressive cast, including writer/director Adam Brooks (Definitely, Maybe) in a small role.

Wood plays Melodie, a naïve, simplistic girl from the Deep South who runs away to New York and is taken in by Larry David’s acerbic Boris Yellnikoff, who does indeed seem to be yelling even when speaking softly. David plays an even more negative personality here than in his HBO show, Curb Your Enthusiasm, where, generally, his character at least means well. In Whatever Works, Boris is so self-centered and judgmental, finding everyone around him lacking in some respect, including the children he teaches chess to, that he’s more repellent than likable. Yet, with his lanky frame, bald crown, and frowning countenance broken often by an impish grin, David is undeniably fun to watch and holds the big screen surprisingly well. A very sour clown indeed, though, who spews such demeaning remarks at Melodie from their first encounter that it is hard to believe she would stick around, never mind falling in love with him. As well, hard to believe that Boris (exhibiting OCD when he has to sing “Happy Birthday” to himself twice every time he washes his hands) would allow this stranger into his home in the first place, especially since he exhibits no sexual interest in Melodie when they meet. Of course, an attraction by a young impressionable woman to an older “wiser” man is a standard Woody Allen theme, but that older man needs to be an enjoyable presence to be with, for the girl if not the audience, for it to be believable.

The story revolves around Boris who, after an unsuccessful attempt at suicide and ending his marriage to his apparently perfect match, moves to a spacious if dumpy apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in an attempt to reconnect with his roots. One night he comes across Melodie, a hungry runaway crouching in the shadows, and he takes her in, eventually becoming involved with Melodie’s wacky family who come chasing after her (ostensibly) but who ultimately (of course) find their true selves in the Big Apple. Much of this is quite humorous, including Boris’s occasional monologues directed at the camera/audience, sharply written mini-diatribes reminiscent of Allen’s earlier work (Love and Death, Annie Hall, Hannah and Her Sisters). Unfortunately, Patricia Clarkson, normally flawless (Pieces of April, The Station Agent, Vicky Cristina Barcelona) is unconvincing in her role as Melodie’s mother who arrives in New York more than ready to burst out of her housewife role and into the life of an artist living and sleeping with two men, as is Ed Begley, Jr. as Melodie’s repressed homosexual father who comes knocking on his own closet door.

It’s not that the performances of these seasoned actors are weak; rather, it’s the material, which simply shows its age vis-à-vis its sexual politics. If Allen had made this film closer to the time it was conceived, and with himself in the role of Boris, he might have made a classic Woody Allen film to rank with Annie Hall and Manhattan. Instead, saved by some great one-liners and a terrific supporting cast, including the as usual under-utilized but always welcome Jessica Hecht, and with his typically well-placed camera, Allen has given us a so-so Woody Allen film. But, like a not-great Bob Dylan album still has enough depth to tower above most of his contemporaries' work, a so-so Woody Allen film has enough humor and insight to make it well-worth seeing in a theater, certainly for fans of the work, and the Manhattan, of Woody Allen.

3 out of 5 stars.

Review by Mike Fishman.

As a side note, this viewer took a short excursion to see this film at the Jacob Burns Film Center in Pleasantville and highly recommends hopping a train (45 minutes out of Grand Central) to attend this outstanding movie theater. Excellent screens, fine sightlines, a friendly staff, great snack items (including brownies from a local bakery) and an impressive line-up of current features, documentaries and wonderfully-curated series such as the upcoming International Noir series that includes several must-see classics, should make this a destination movie-house for discerning city dwellers/film fans seeking more quality viewing for their buck and an excuse to get out of the city. Two block walk to the cinema from the train station and a Starbucks you can hit before hand with over-sized comfy chairs. What more can you ask for? Visit the Jacob Burns Film Center website.

Interview with Woody Allen on NPR, June 15, 2009

2009-07-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

Click here to listen to an interview Woody Allen did with NPR about his latest film, "Whatever Works."

Copyright 2009 NPR.

UP

2009-06-07T14:52:00.000-07:00

Directed by Peter Docter and Bob Petersen (co-director); screenplay by Bob Petersen and Pete Docter

That PIXAR continues to make animated films as original, fun and interesting as they do is remarkable; that they have continued to build on subsequent successes to release films that are increasingly more mature and with more serious overtones yet retaining a sense of adventure appealing to children and adults alike, can rightfully be called astonishing.

Looking back to just 2007, Ratatouille gave us the marvelous childhood flashback of the food critic; last year, WALL-E’s first act was rendered with no dialogue but a plethora of emotion and sub-text; and now UP gives us a montage portraying a lifetime of devotion between Carl Fredrickson (voiced by Ed Asner) and his first and only love, Ellie, moving through her inability to have children to her eventual death, leaving Carl alone with his memories and the home they lovingly built as the outside world threatens his and its existence, urban development crowding around the old wooden house. That such serious issues are presented as touching facts and not downers (avoiding the pitfalls of, for example, The Tale of Despereaux, which came to feel suffocating), is undoubtedly due to the deft touch of the filmmaking team, specifically director and co-writer Peter Docter (director, Monsters, Inc.), screenwriter and co-director Bob Peterson (screenplay, Finding Nemo) and executive producer John Lasseter (executive producer, BOLT, WALL-E, Ratatouille, and one of the other real contemporary animation champs, Meet the Robinsons).

UP centers on 78-year-old Carl who, faced with being placed in a retirement home, ties thousands of balloons to his house and takes flight to travel to South America, a lifelong unfulfilled dream he and Ellie had shared since childhood. Soon after the house lifts off, the first of several spectacular colorful visuals, Carl finds he has a stowaway, Russell, an overweight but good-natured neighborhood boy and would-be explorer, whose back-story touches on serious issues of his own (divorced parents, a distant father). After much curmudgeonly grumbling on Carl’s part, the two eventually bond and land in South America where Carl comes face to face with his childhood hero, the famous explorer Charles Muntz (voiced with much relish by Christopher Plummer), whose life has become (evilly) devoted to capturing and bringing back to the civilized world, dead or alive, a rare bird, befriended by Carl and Russell, and who they fight to save.

Lest you think the film is all doom and gloom, rest assured it is first and foremost a great ride, with many humorous touches throughout, including a dog named Dug (wonderfully voiced by screenwriter Bob Peterson) whose thoughts are transmitted by a special collar and who gave the audience some of its biggest laughs when, in mid-sentence, distracted by a squirrel (“Squirrel!”) his attention would swerve for a fleeting moment. It was the equivalent of a very clever aside, the kind of apparent throw-away that can raise comedy to the level of brilliance.

As with all 3-D animated movies, the question that comes to mind is, does this really need to be in 3-D? The answer is an unsatisfying yes and no. The journey, characters and visual style would still be pleasing and engrossing in 2-D, and there are very few blatantly 3-D moments, no objects propelled towards the viewer a la Monsters vs. Aliens. Rather, the 3-D here is fittingly more like BOLT, a fellow PIXAR creation; it adds a sense of depth and perspective to the environments and characters; less about visual dazzle and more about visual reality, the 3-D is used to make it all more real.

And this where the payoff comes; it’s not simply a rendering of a house taking flight, it is a house taking flight. And, too, the wearing of 3-D glasses helps put the viewer in his or her own world, less aware of the person sitting next to them, the theater they are inside, allowing for a more immersive experience, a more dreamlike experience in which the connection between viewer and screen is less distanced. When the time inevitably comes that films can be experienced in 3-D without the use of glasses, it will be interesting to see if it is as engrossing an experience as 3-D with glasses. For it is the very act of putting on the glasses, and directing one’s attention to the screen for the experience about to unfold, that creates a much more intimate, and yet still communal, experience of being immersed in the world unfolding. We must remove the glasses at the end, and re-emerge into the normal world.

5 out of 5 stars.

Review written by Mike Fishman.

Observe and Report

2009-05-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

Written and directed by Jody Hill

Jody Hill and Seth Rogan have made a brave film here, a film that dares to take its humor to a very dark place and that casts Rogan as an unlikable, if pitiable, character. Rogan plays Ronnie Barnhardt, a bi-polar mall security guard whose one great wish, to become a real cop, will obviously never be realized, mostly because his every action and utterance is offensive and often harmful to those around him. During a psychological profiling, part of the process of applying to the police force, he unwittingly reveals such extraordinarily violent tendencies that not only should he not be a policeman but it seems inevitable that he’ll spend some time in jail somewhere along the line.

Ronnie takes his job all-too-seriously and when a flasher starts exposing himself to women in the parking lot, there will be no rest for Ronnie until the offender is apprehended and ultimately, in one of several shockingly funny scenes, publicly shot. That the filmmakers dare to go as dark as they do and that Rogan would take on such a role at this time in his soaring career, is remarkable. Many of the “jokes” are simply exaggerated turns into almost absurdist humor, the kind of humor that to many people will be offensive and distasteful, but for those who like their humor dark, Observe and Report will be a refreshing change of pace, in keeping with the edgy comedy of, for example, Ricky Gervais (remember his comments at the 2009 Oscars? Not too many comedians riff on the Holocaust for jokes).

The humor here is mostly of the unexpected; the audience is often not quite sure where it’s going and when it goes off the deep-end, there is an element of surprise that few recent comedies have dared to deliver. I can't think of another recent comedy that has scenes as shockingly funny as, say, Ronnie’s mother (the perfectly-cast Celia Weston) agreeing with him that he was the reason his father left her, or her passing out drunk when Ronnie is pouring his heart out to her, or her coming on to Ronnie’s co-workers and telling them in front of him that in high school she fucked all her son’s friends, Ronnie just shrugging and conceding that, yes, dear Mom did sleep with most of my friends in high school. This is basic jaw-dropping humor, and Observe and Report has more than a handful of such moments.

Which brings to us to the much-discussed date-rape scene, about which Anna Ferris (Brandi) herself commented “The unapologetic nature of Jody’s comedy was so appealing to me, and I really wanted be part of it. I’m so grateful I was cast, but when I read the script, I thought, “Well, this is Warner Brothers. This is a studio movie, so this is all gonna be softened up. It’s a comedy, right?” So when we were shooting it, even the date-rape scene—or as I refer to it, “The Tender Love-Making Scene”—I just thought, “We’ll shoot it, but it’s not gonna be in the movie. I don’t have to worry about that one.” And yet there it is.” (http://www.avclub.com/articles/anna-faris,26245).

No one could honestly say that anything about date-rape is funny. But the scene in question does make us laugh, not because we are laughing at date-rape but because we are so taken aback by the characters’ actions – Ronnie’s for doing it and Brandi’s for saying “Why did you stop, motherfucker?” when he hesitates. That hesitation allows for this to exist somewhere between date-rape and consensual sex; Ronnie did not, after all, slip Brandi drugs surreptitiously. In his character’s mind-set, he was sharing drugs with her in a twisted version of flirtation and courtship. Them having sex, Brandi zoned out and barely conscious is appalling; Brandi asking “Why did you stop, motherfucker?” is what makes us laugh. It’s so outrageous it’s unholy. The both of them are so pathetic and awful we have to laugh, but not because it’s funny exactly. Because it borders on the bizarre. It’s sick and it’s wrong. So wrong. Just as R. Crumb’s comics were so wrong. And yet, they can make one laugh, if one is open to that type of over-the-top, grotesque humor. Remember Pink Flamingoes and the closing shot of Divine and the dog poop? Revolting, certainly, but revolting in a way that the only reaction we can have is to laugh and shake our heads at the sheer audacity and outrageousness of it even as, with Pink Flamingoes anyway, we are ready to leave the theater and walk out into some much-needed fresh air.

The fact that in Observe and Report Rogan’s character, while pitiable, is not made sympathetic or likable gives this film weight and integrity. These are unstable people who go down, down, down a road, then make a sharp left. How often do we get a comedy that does not ask us, nor allow us, to like the characters? Even the most bumbling idiots of your average comedy, we wouldn’t mind spending a half hour with them, although an actual meal might prove too much. But we would run away from a Ronnie, shake our heads at a Brandi. That intention makes this film worth celebrating to some degree. A film that can jolt us, once in a while, that seems like a good thing. The uneasy laugh is one that must be earned and one that makes for a notable, and rare, viewing experience in a theater with an audience. Highly recommended for anyone who likes their comedy dark.

Review written by Mike Fishman

$9.99

2009-04-26T15:21:00.000-07:00

Written by Tatia Rosenthal and Etgar Keret; Directed by Tatia Rosenthal.

The everyday if sometimes mundane lives of the characters in this stop-motion film make it an experiment in animation that is a fascinating break from the normal (if beloved) mainstream animation that graces our screens in which characters, usually animals, can fly, have super barks or at the very least, can talk to humans. That the filmmakers here made a feature-length animated film that most closely resembles a moving graphic novel of everyday people and events (possibly heroes but certainly not superheroes) is a welcome foray into an area of animation rarely seen and that has the potential to hold up a mirror to our existence in the same way as the work of graphic novelists such as Shary Flenniken, Adrian Tomine and Gilbert Hernandez.

While recently there have been other notable animations that focused on “real” people in real situations (Persepolis, Year of the Fish, Waltz with Bashir), that this film is rendered in stop-motion brings to the screen characters who cast actual shadows, cry tears of liquid, and who move in actual physical relation to each other and their surroundings in three-dimensional space; who place tiny records on tiny turntables that exist as real objects. Coupled with lesser known voices (Geoffrey Rush and Anthony LaPaglia being the most well-known), this makes for a much more believable film experience than 2-Dimensional or 3-Dimensional animation, and is miles away from the singing, loopy stop-motion creations of Tim Burton and Henry Selick.

The characters here are believable individuals we have never seen before yet are instantly familiar to us as types. These are not fun creatures doing wacky impossible things, they are fictions wrung from the fabric of everyday life, focusing on 29-year-old Dave Peck, an unemployed dreamer searching for the meaning of life who thinks he may find it in a $9.99 self-help book, and an assortment of characters in his apartment building. There is even a love-making scene that is hilarious in its realistic nature.

How rare this type of animation is when we can basically count on over-exposed actors to voice the latest animated characters. $9.99 is a compassionate stare at life, rendered in an entertaining, occasionally amusing visual style. It’s a promising development that so many animators are pursuing projects that delve into the most dramatic aspects of our lives through unique characters that resemble us, or our next door neighbor.

$9.99 screened as part of the 2009 New Directors/New Films series at Lincoln Center.

Review written by Mike Fishman.

For filmmakers: Be a Tour Guide film contest

2009-04-19T08:29:00.000-07:00

The Global Film Initiative, sponsors of Global Lens (see The Photograph review below) , has launched an exciting and unique film contest called Be a Tour Guide. Sponsored by Virgin America Airlines, Be a Tour Guide challenges U.S. and Canadian high school and college students to submit creative videos about ethnic groups in their own cities and neighborhoods.

Winners will receive two tickets to anywhere Virgin America flies and be featured on the Global Film Initiative website.

Be a Tour Guide is now accepting entries, with winners to be announced on June 30th, 2009.

See complete details on their website: Globalfilm.org

Up the Down Staircase

2009-04-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

Screenplay by Tad Mosel (winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, 1961, for his play All The Way Home) adapted from the novel by Bel Kaufman; Directed by Robert Mulligan (To Kill a Mockingbird).

An interesting film to re-visit, or visit as the case may be. 1967: in the words of Charles Dickens, so memorably probed in this film, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Youthful unrest, Vietnam, racism, the Summer of Love. It is inevitable that comparisons with To Sir With Love, released the same year, will be made. Directed by Robert Mulligan from a best-selling novel by Bel Kaufman, Up the Down Staircase lacks the sweep of To Sir With Love and the benefit of the latter’s memorable title song, and is a bit clunkier, its seams showing at times. But with its emphasis placed more squarely on relationships and less on issues, it is also less dated and less obvious in making its points.

Sandy Dennis plays Sylvia Barrett , an inner-city school teacher fresh out of college whose dissertation was, as a fellow teacher guesses, on Chaucer. Dennis, a year after her triumph in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, does what few actors can do – she plays a seemingly fragile creature who has mountains of strength within her. It is not a question of vulnerability or power; it is simply a matter of bravery: to face the world, no matter what, and be as strong as one can be. A certain determination, and a balancing act that few other actresses are capable of. Sissy Spacek and Sandra Bullock come to mind, and perhaps Scarlett Johanssen. Dennis utilizes some of the same mannerisms seen in Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf?: the sweet girlish smile; the tucking of her bottom lip under her top teeth; the averted eyes. Such mannerisms come close to affectation but Dennis keeps them in check, just enough to make them seem natural actions for this character, part of what made Dennis such a unique and effective actress.

Jean Stapleton has a small role, very small unfortunately; she gets to shine for only one small moment in one short scene but it’s enough to remind older viewers of the joys she brought to Edith Bunker in the classic sit-com All in the Family. Those were the days.

The film has some loose ends, most notably a sub-plot involving Alice, a student who attempts suicide and who is not seen again; most unfortunate, not only for the great scene addressing the suicide attempt that could/should have been between her and Sandy Dennis, but for the simple joys of the actress playing Alice, Ellen O’Mara, a rather plain-looking but extraordinarily appealing young woman whose only other major work listed on IMDB.com is an appearance in a two-part episode of the detective show Kojak.

Up the Down Staircase screened at the Lincoln Center’s Walter Reader Theater as part of its “American Auteurs: Robert Mulligan” series. Read about that series at the Walter Reade web site.

Review written by Mike Fishman.

Top 10 films of 2008, contributed by Brendan Rose

2009-03-10T20:54:00.000-07:00

One pretentious film buff's Top 10 of 2008:

1) Gomorrah (Matteo Garrone) - Certainly the most honest mafia movie ever - rugged, raw and unsentimental.

2) 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days (Cristian Mingiu) - This film never relents with its brutally precise visual language.

3) Edge of Heaven (Fatih Akin) - An expertly sculpted drama making Hollywood's interconnecting story films look fatuous and unworthy (i.e. Crash!!).

4) Waltz With Bashir (Ari Folman) - Half wistful dream, half probing confessional, capped off by a perfect, urgent denouement.

5) Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt) - A touch of Bresson pervades this elegant cinematic whisper.

6) Reprise (Joachim Trier) - I Vitelloni-esque; somehow lacks pretension.

7) The Secret of the Grain (Abdel Kechiche) - Cassavettes-like wide scenes pinpointing the details in this family drama of modern, multicultural France.

8) Che (Steven Soderbergh) - This film has gotten a lot of negative press, but it's more complex and less a piece of simple fawning Che hagiography than most suspect.

9) Milk (Gus Van Sant) - A sweeping biopic, across-the-board strong performances, moral rigor.

10) The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky) - Tomei and Rourke dominate, despite a few key flaws (the hasty make-up sequence between daughter and father).

Runners Up:

- Still Life (Jia Zhangke) - The politics of the dispossessed, harbored through the moving image.

- Paranoid Park (Gus Van Sant) - so ethereal and beautiful; if only it carried more weight.

- Wall-E (Andrew Stanton) - its transcendent opening 30 or so minutes will be remembered.

- Summer Palace (Ye Lou) - the film drifts, like its characters, but contains some extraordinary sequences.

- Dark Knight (Christopher Nolan) - Ledger's performance will stand tall through the ages; a sloppy third act prevents a higher rank.

- Rachel Getting Married (Jonathan Demme) - Only a Jonathan Demme could make a film with this scenario and these conceits and still make it somehow work!

The Photograph

2009-03-07T12:14:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman.

Once in a while (a great while), a film will come along that is so painfully beautiful and created with such integrity, it can lead one to take pause of one’s own life and reflect on one’s own regrets. The Photograph, written and directed by Singapore-born Nan Achnas, is such a film. I’d heard about it and, knowing it was not available yet on DVD, knew I had to catch it at the MOMA where it screened as part of their Global Lens 2009 program. Hopefully this 2007 Indonesian film, which won two awards at the 43rd Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, will be released theatrically. There is a paucity of material about it on the web; the official website (http://www.thephotographmovie.com/) is limited and out of date. But two long clips are available on YouTube., which while not great quality will give a sense of this film’s power and beauty.

The fairly straight-forward narrative about Johan (played to perfection by Kay Tong Lim, an actor with an extensive list of credits of TV-bit parts), an aging/ailing photographer nursing regret for most of his life taking in Sita, (played beautifully by the actress known simply as Shanty) 25, a talented singer forced into prostitution to provide for her daughter who she hasn’t seen in two years, is perfectly executed and sincere to the core. Sita eventually becomes caregiver to the reluctant Johan, just as Johan had previously acted as savior to her, and their relationship, friendship and the details of their lives slowly unfold. That the two do not fall into a romantic or sexual relationship is very much part of the strength and believability of this film. It really is about two people, very different and yet not so different, finding that they need the other person, despite their internal and external protests. They say they want to be alone but in truth, they are just not interested in most of the company available to them.

The characters are so well-established that when moments of violence, remembrance and tragedy occur, they are utterly believable, burrowing down into one’s soul with the intensity of a painting gazed at for the first time. When the source of Johan’s lifelong regret is finally revealed, it is so shocking in a believable rather than manipulative way, that one can relate to how it would in fact scar a person for life. Likewise, a scene in which Sita is gang-raped is filmed and unfolds in such a way that it is felt by the viewer, the consequences of it are felt rather than just observed, and not offered up as a manipulative dish of pity. This is the main strength and power of this film: that characters and situations which could easily be presented in a cloying or manipulative way are not, and they retain their dignity. And we, as audience, retain our dignity.

Both characters have been scarred by life, physically and emotionally, but beauty still exists in the world; for Sita, it is waiting in the eyes of her loving daughter. For Johan, it is in finding an apprentice to carry on his work and tradition. And there is some wonderful humor in the scenes where he interviews potential apprentices, almost all of whom are woefully unfit and generally uninterested in photography. The humor in these scenes is sweet, direct, and earthy. But most importantly, it is earned, as with the humor in Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, and thus cathartic. That earned humor, and the fact that the film refuses to go where one might expect it to, makes this a film filled with small surprises that add up to very large experience, one that will stay with you days after the credits roll.

BOLT in 3-D

2009-01-29T09:41:00.000-08:00

BOLT written by Dan Fogelman and Chris Williams; Directed by Byron Howard and Chris Williams; Winner of the Kids' Choice Awards 2009; Walt Disney Animation Studios.

Contributed by Mike Fishman

3-D animation has come a long way, particularly if one looks back to Superman Returns (2006) which had a total of four scenes in 3-D, requiring the viewer to go in and out of the 3-D experience, putting on and removing the glasses. Things picked up considerably with Beowolf (2007), the entire film being in 3-D and the filmmakers wise to the fact that 3-D didn’t just have to be fantastical effects; in fact, some of the most successful scenes simply involved landscapes and halls filled with people in which a sense of depth felt real, bringing the viewer into the scene. While the 3-D glasses and technology have improved greatly (no more headache-inducing glasses requiring the eyes to work separately), Journey to the Center of the Earth (2008) was a great disappointment and felt like a step back, as the filmmakers used the 3-D technology mostly for predictable effects such as falling and objects coming at the viewer rather than to create a real sense of space. This was particularly lamentable given the opportunity to create a unique world unlike any viewers would have seen before.

Happily, Bolt in 3-D makes excellent use of the technology, not only to enhance action scenes but, more crucially, to create real perspective between the viewer and the space depicted on screen and between characters within that given space. Even the fur on Bolt and Mittens (the cat) seems real and alive. Coupled with an exciting, fun story, this makes for animation that delivers on visual and dramatic levels.

Bolt, voiced by an excellent John Travolta, is a dog who was raised as a pet actor in a fictional TV show, each week saving the day for his beloved “person” Penny, using heat rays generated from his eyes and his “super bark.” The fictional element of Bolt’s world is kept secret from him, as in The Truman Show, although other animals he comes in contact with are well-aware of the make believe aspect. OK, Bolt is not the sharpest doggie in the world, but viewers are encouraged to keep in mind that he was raised in this environment since he was a puppy, so why would he question the camera, etc? In fact, one funny scene involves the show’s director flipping out when a boom mic is visible on-screen; if Bolt doesn’t believe, the director states, the viewers won’t believe. Threatened with cancellation unless he can increase ratings, the director has Penny kidnapped and for once, the danger is not resolved within a given show. Bolt, believing Penny to be in real danger, escapes from his studio-home and embarks on a journey to save her.

And thus our story begins.

Along the way Bolt enlists the help of Mittens, a cat voiced wonderfully by Susie Essman (Curb Your Enthusiasm), one of the most intriguing characters seen in animation in a long time. Feline in the finest sense: slinky, sensual, sarcastic, and jaded, but de-clawed, making her sympathetic as well as extremely likable. Of course, there is the prerequisite comical sidekick, in this case a hamster named Rhino, voiced by Mark Walton, who is saved from expected annoyance by surprisingly witty dialogue. The film is a ride that never lets up but what sets it apart from so many recent feature-length animations is the fact that it is rooted in reality, in the sense that Bolt can talk to other animals but not to humans. While Ratatouille is superb on many levels, and Bee Movie and The Tale of Despereaux have their relative merits, the simple fact that the protagonists in those films could converse with humans made those films that much more unrealistic. And the fact Bolt comes to learn that he is not in fact a superhero but merely an actor, creates a more rounded, complex, interesting, and sympathetic character than we usually encounter in animation.

And, while The Tale of Despereaux (in the theaters at the same time as BOLT) is certainly more beautiful visually, BOLT is simply more interesting, more fun, and the kind of animated film fans of animation can live in, and connect with. It delivers everything one could hope for from a 3-D animation. And there is good reason to believe we will be seeing more 3-D animated films, albeit at a slightly increased price, the only unfortunate aspect. But, it they turn out as satisfying and gimmick-free as BOLT in 3-D, this may be just what the theatrical business needs.

The following excerpts from an interview Newsarama conducted with Dreamworks Animation CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, addresses this very issue.

From the Newsarama website:

“In the entire history of film, there have been two revolutionary events,” says Katzenberg, “the transition from silent movies to synchronized sound in the 1920s and arrival of color in the 1930s. Now, seven decades later, the movie industry is entering the third period of revolutionary change with the arrival of 3D. The first two, sound and color, were about bringing a better film experience to audiences. This one is about bringing audiences into the film experience. At DreamWorks Animation, we believe so strongly in 3D that we have completely re-tooled our studio for this medium. Beginning next year, every one of our releases will be produced – from the first storyboard to the final release print – using proprietary technology we are calling InTru3D.

“Working with our partners at Intel & HP, we have developed authoring tools that take full advantage of all the immersive storytelling possibilities of stereoscopic 3D. These tools allow us to approach filmmaking in a whole new way. Until now, most 3D animated releases have actually been produced in 2D and then converted to 3D during post-production. This is somewhat analogous to taking a black-and-white movie and colorizing it. By contrast, our 3D films are being created for this medium from the very first storyboard. We have entered a whole new creative world.”

For the record, this process has been around before. In fact, Katzenberg cites another hit animated film for his current zealousness.

“In terms of 3D, I guess the Eureka moment was when I saw Polar Express in IMAX 3-D,” says Katzenberg. “I was riveted by the experience of the film. I don’t remember having seen a film that was as immersive and involving an experience. Even though it was a 2D movie converted to 3D, I felt the potential of it wouldn’t disappear. I literally left that theater, and it was on a Saturday, and called all the senior people at Dreamworks Animation to tell them they got to see this. This is our future. That was really the breakthrough moment.”

Not that Katzenberg is making an audience’s introduction to this development easy. In fact, most experts, Katzenberg included, are warning there will be a $5.00 additional cost to the MvA ticket to offset the extra costs associated with the experience.

“The answer is this may not be for everybody, but that’s why we’re here today,” he said. “I give a lot of credit to people like Zemeckis and Disney for making these earlier generations of movies. I see us as the next step up in the evolution of 3D. It’s a tremendous step both in the making of movies.

“It would have cost us $150 million to make Monsters v. Aliens. By adding this extra step we are adding an additional $15 million to the cost, making it $165 million. These are very, very expensive movies. Also, for the theaters, they are investing a lot of capital in converting theaters to project in 3-D. It requires a premium charge. My feeling is if you offer people a better product, with a higher and more reliable quality, they will pay a premium for it. They will feel they will get value for their money.”

What does this mean as far as the movie experience?

“Let me give you an example of what I mean,” says Katzenberg. “Ever since D.W. Griffith started moving the camera, the pan shot has been a tool for filmmakers to track across the screen, most notably in a film like Lawrence of Arabia, to suggest the vastness of the desert, or in Star Wars to take us from a sky full of stars down to battling starships.

“Now, for the first time, filmmakers can use a pan shot to track into the screen. This is more than just a new camera move because it can also be an important storytelling device. At a moment of high intensity, the camera can bring the audience in closer. At a moment of human isolation, the camera can suddenly back off. This is what the ‘D’ of ‘3D’ is all about: dimensionality. Not just visual dimensionality, but emotional dimensionality.

“It’s important to note that when I say 3D, we’re not talking about what I like to call my father’s 3D ... which used these kind of goofy cardboard, red and blue, anaglyph glasses,” says Katzenberg. “It was pretty terrible. The technology was primitive, the film was blurry, people got headaches and some even got nauseous. It really wasn’t much more than a cheap exploitation gimmick.

“Here’s the difference, even with these most recent movies, 3D was used to make very self-consciously, not for the audience itself. The problem with that, and this goes back to storytelling, first and foremost when it was used it didn’t have to be a very good movie. It was unfortunate, but it was successful. So Monster v. Aliens has to be--first, second, third, fourth and fifth—it has to be a really great entertainment. We had an offering an exceptional way to experience that filming in its 3D presentation. With the old movies, what it actually does is break a convention. When one of the 3D scenes happened, it breaks outside of the story. It stops in the narrative. It makes you think, ‘Oh! There’s a spear coming right at my face!’ or ‘OH! It looks like I can touch that!,’ which is great, but it breaks up the narrative. You’ve broken the wall.

“What you’re seeing here is completely the opposite of it,” Katzenberg claims. “The audience is actually immersed into the world itself. Their feelings are amplified into it, because this is much closer to how we actually see. We see in color and in three dimensions. It really is a total rethink of the means we make movies. The original 3-D movies were B-market crap. I hated a lot of them. The actual point of those movies were to engage the audience into the effects. With our 3-D we are going for exactly the opposite. The moment we just go for the effects, we have broken the bond.

“Look at it this way, when we go to a good theme park ride, we experience them in three dimensions. I should know because I helped make four or five of them. I really feel that’s really the closest experience we have to 3-D.”

Not that there aren’t glasses involved.

“The glasses use state-of-the-art polarized lenses and they’re so comfortable you quickly forget you’re even wearing them,” says Katzenberg. “Projection used to require two side-by-side projectors that were nearly impossible to synchronize; ergo, all the headaches and nausea. Now, a single projector is used that delivers pristine, bright digital images on the screen in perfect sync and flicker-free. Indeed, the key to all of this progress is in the single word: digital.

“Just as digital technology has drastically altered special effects, allowing audiences to feel they’re sailing on the Titanic, leaping buildings with Spiderman or coming face-to-face with King Kong, so too has it completely transformed 3D into a medium that can replicate the most remarkable human sense of all – the sense of sight.”

“To appreciate the magnitude of this accomplishment, consider what has been achieved with the sense of hearing,” Katzenberg continues. “In just a few decades, we’re gone from vinyl to 8-track to cassette to CD to digital. Today, we can capture, store and replay sound with near perfect fidelity to our ears.

“Current 2D movies are still in the visual equivalent of the vinyl era. Many of them are outstanding works of entertainment and even art. But they do not capture the essence of being there. 3D does. 3D represents the opportunity to re-energize audiences worldwide about the film medium by offering a dramatic new visual experience that can only be had at their local cinema.”

Rachel Getting Married

2009-01-11T08:33:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

On the heels of Lake City, another film dealing with family, death and loss but in a much more overt way. Rachel Getting Married, written by Jenny Lumet (daughter of Sidney) and directed by Jonathan Demme, is concerned with Kym (played well by Anne Hathaway) returning home from a stint in rehab for the wedding of her sister, Rachel, the excellent Rosemarie DeWitt. The dark, not–so-secret past this family shares is soon brought to light; some years ago Kym, high on drugs, was at the wheel of a car when she drove off the road and plunged into water, drowning her younger passenger-brother. While the filmmakers wisely do not use the death to explain Kym’s subsequent stints in rehab (she was already using drugs before the accident), Kym does confront her mother (the always-reliable Debra Winger), demanding to know how her mother could have left the boy in Kym’s charge, knowing that Kym was a drug user.

This pivotal scene exploring guilt and blame between the mother and daughter unfortunately borders on the ridiculous: Kym’s mother slaps Kym; Kym smacks her back, hard. The use of hand-held camera is intended to make it feel more real and in the moment but with virtually every major character being unlikable, with the exception of Tunde Adebimpe’s groom, the overall effect was of heightened drama bordering on melodrama. Such a scene would have been better served with less hand-held camera, the moving camera becoming a distraction rather than pulling us into the “action.” The emotional resonance such a scene could have had is lost, dissipated in the space created between the viewer and the fidgety camera; the confrontation comes across more as an interview gone haywire than a brutally honest conversation between a mother and daughter.

There are some wonderful, memorable scenes, in particular a toast scene where everyone gets their say including an of course wince-inducing Kym, who finally (unintentionally or not) reveals the depth of her problems; she’s not just a drug addict, she’s emotionally unbalanced. Hathaway does a laudable job of inhabiting a character fighting her demons, within a very dysfunctional family, and shows she has considerable depth to plunge as an actress.

The actual wedding and party seem to go on for days although in fact it is just one very long night, and in the morning, Kym returns to rehab, cognizant of the fact that she still cannot fit into this family of hers. The cumulative effect, given the unsympathetic nature of nearly every character, the quick editing style, and the lack of any catharsis, make for an exasperating experience. But, how else could a film like this leave you, except unsettled and perhaps ruminating on one’s own family and history of miscommunication? A conventional happy ending almost certainly would have made the film more predictable and with less lasting effect. By the same token, however, it makes for a not-particularly enjoyable experience. Now, what does that remind me of? Oh yes, my last family gathering. Just kidding.

Lake City

2008-12-13T10:39:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

Once in a while a movie comes along that is not great, but fine. Perhaps flawed, but leaving you with matter, something of substance and personal meaning, to think about. A silence, like the kind of silence that might come over you standing before a painting you get lost in, say a Mark Rothko or a Jackson Pollack. Such a movie for me was Lake City, written and directed by Hunter Hill and Perry Moore. Not truly great, but fine, and fine turned out to be more than enough pay-off when I decided to take a chance and catch it at The Quad Cinema (despite an unfairly weak review in the NY Times, leading to the film closing after one week) and finding myself in a theater with only two other patrons.

Because of that review, I had extremely low expectations, but something about the plot of a Southern mother (Sissy Spacek) and son (Troy Garity) reuniting years after a family tragedy, the son now on the run from drug dealers, drew me in. And very quickly, and to my surprise, I found myself caring about these characters, mostly due to Sissy Spacek being so good, so honest in her acting. The film was made better than the sum of its parts by the sheer will of her performance. When she is quiet, she is utterly believable as a quiet person, the solitude of the character not forced upon us.

Some of the dialogue was uninspired and bordered on cliché, and the film moved to a violent climax rather than an emotional one. And while this was in some ways disappointing (I was very much aware of myself practically willing the film to an emotional climax), I didn’t feel it failed me. Rather, it went somewhere other than where I wanted it to go. But that only served to remind me of the emotional territory films can go, but rarely do. And how, when they do go there, it is often through the vehicle of an actor we know too well, have seen one too many times before, making the suspension of disbelief a little bit harder. Not having seen Sissy Spacek in some time, this was an easy hurdle to overcome. And so, even though that emotional (climactic) moment was not delivered, the movie as a whole was like hot chocolate on a blustery day (just to be reminded of the power of film to deliver those moments, even when they elude us) because, with the exception of Rooster’s Breakfast, it’d been a long time since I’d actually been moved by a film.

While there have been some great dramas in the past six months or so, Hollywood and otherwise, none presented me with a set of characters and a situation that I could connect to, in a personal way. But in Lake City, I could, since at the core of the story is the death of a child, the loss of a brother: the moment of learning about that loss, and the anger such a moment engenders. The thrashing out at a world that delivered such a moment, and the living, every day from that point on, with that moment, with that loss.

A film that can touch upon death in a way that does not feel artificial naturally has the potential to be a powerful and profound experience. That Lake City dwelled in that emotional space, while not fully going there and occasionally feeling forced, made it a film that resonated within me, and that preoccupied me for the following few days. There’s not much more you can ask from a film. It’s certainly part of what motivates me to go to certain types of quiet films, that might have gotten poor reviews; to go on a whim that there just might be something there for me, even if it wasn’t there for the reviewer.

A film doesn’t have to be great to deliver like that, just fine and fine enough, and the viewer receptive enough. The shame here is that there was much for me and there could be much for others, but because of that darn review, Lake City closed after only one week, and I am unable to encourage others to see it in the theater. That’s a shame but hopefully this deserving film will find its audience through DVD.

His Girl Friday

2008-12-08T17:16:00.000-08:00

Contributed by S. Saylor

"You can get married 365 days of the year, but when do you have a murderer in your desk?!" Walter Burns (Cary Grant) says to Hildegard "Hildy" Johnson (Rosalind Russell) as they scamper around the office entangled in the various phone cords which function as extensions of their own schemes. His Girl Friday is a remake of the 1931 film, The Front Page, in which a newspaper man tries to get his partner back into the business. But in His Girl Friday, that partner is a woman: the swaggering Rosalind Russell. Both Grant and Russell ad-libbed and wrote much of their own dialogue because they weren't satisfied with what the script offered. Thankfully, Hawks encouraged this.

As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Walter and Hildy share the same passion—for getting the story. Walter is still very much in love with Hildy, but she apparently has other plans—to quit the business and remarry. Walter does all he can to get Hildy back, including having her fiancé repeatedly pick-pocketed and thrown in jail. There is nothing like the crackling energy of Cary Grant to liven up a romantic scene. He is a truly generous actor, and for this we should all be very grateful. Whether he is screaming that the reason he is wearing Susan Vance's (played by Katherine Hepburn) nightgown is that he suddenly "went gay," as in Bringing up Baby, or chasing Hildy around the office in His Girl Friday, the name of the game is sexual tension, and nobody is more alert and feisty than Grant.

Russell's ability to be simultaneously hard and vulnerable is refreshing. She matches Walter's schemes at every turn. And I like a woman who's not afraid to be ugly sometimes. It means she's got spirit, that she's a human being rather than a mere manicured version of femininity. After driving Walter away for the greater part of the film, this stalwart fighter breaks down when she thinks he will actually let her go. In this, she reveals her machismo. "Why are you crying?" he asks. "Because I thought you didn't love me anymore," she sobs. Rather than this being pitiful, or stereotypically "feminine" (i.e. in the end all a woman really wants is a man), it is moving because the viewer knows what a, well, "man" Hildy is. That is, she's the toughest person in the film.

There is a sub-genre of romantic comedies that I propose we call "schemantic comedies," wherein the hard-headed protagonist(s) fight against what they are destined for (and really want) and scheme to get what they think they want (but aren't destined for). Alternately, they scheme for what they really want and are destined for—in any case, they make a mess of the whole damn thing in the process. It is utterly Shakespearean. Think of Much Ado About Nothing, or any of Shakespeare's comedies for that matter. But instead of the women literally masquerading as men to get what they want, as in Shakespeare, in the schemantic comedies of classic cinema the women don the status of men to achieve their aims, as in The Lady Eve, or Bringing up Baby. Same idea, different costume. And guess what? It works. Because it creates tension by raising the low-status character (the woman) to the high-status character (the man), thereby leveling the playing field, and creating two equally-matched opponents who can really duke it out mano-a-mano.

Anyone who's ever studied acting, writing or directing knows that conflict is key to a good story. No conflict = no story. The scheming creates tension and conflict, but it also facilitates another purpose, which is to create the sense that the two characters are true counterparts; they're a special fit—at least in regard to their scheming abilities. At the end of the day, the more emotional dodge-ball, scheming, attacks and counter-attacks, the more we want Walter and Hildy to get it on! There is one particularly scintillating moment toward the end of the film when they are arguing, yelling at each other, and he suddenly grabs her wrist
and . . . ! Everything stops and we just watch, and wait in suspense. She is still arguing a mile a minute when she suddenly realizes that he's got her by the wrist. Her speech falters only a little, and she tries to slowly twist out of his grip while still arguing. It is a very real moment. One of the hottest moments in film—because the actors match each other, the characters match each other, and this sizzles with tension.

Ghost Town

2008-11-29T10:45:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman.

Starring Ricky Gervais, Téa, Leone, Greg Kinnera, directed by David Koepp, written by David Koepp and John Kamps.

More drama than comedy, surprising given the trailer but that dramatic emphasis gave some weight to Gervais’s portrayal, nicely doled out, especially in a montage when his character, up to that point a “fucking prick” in the words of co-worker Aasif Mandvi, finally makes amends and does good. Not always logical in the details (why did Kinnear’s character die after being hit by a bus whereas Gervais’s survived? Both buses seemed to be traveling at roughly the same speeds), this is an entertaining story, utilizing New York City well and with some genuine laughs, generated more by dialogue and circumstance than Gervais mugging, which is a good thing; mugging can get so old so fast, especially in Gervais’s case, whose comedy walks a line between despicable and funny. Too much mugging, he becomes annoying. Sweet ending, too, open-ended but hopeful with Téa Leoni’s pleasing, crooked smile sending the audience out into the night on dreams of possible love, and love requited, but not all tied up in a false bow.

Speaking of pleasing visuals, the director stubbornly refused to show us images of Gervais’s character carrying on a conversation with apparently thin air; that is, how it would appear to people around him. Instead, we the audience continually see Kinnear standing next to Gervais and it is left to us to imagine what those around Gervais would see: a man talking to thin air as in, for example, Harvey with Jimmy Stewart. This makes it more of an exercise than it should be (further suspend your already suspended disbelief) whereas it could been a funnier and more absurd experience. Particularly here, where the logic has been worked out nicely (Kinnear and others are ghosts who move through objects and thus would not, for example, leave an indentation if they sat on a sofa), as compared to Harvey, a 6-foot tall rabbit, there were any number of scenes that would have benefited from just one shot of Gervais talking to no one and a reaction shot of a perplexed onlooker. In one scene, Gervais’s office is filled with ghosts that only he can see; his receptionist sees him staring at them; instead of the audience seeing an empty office, we see the ghosts; the humor of the situation has just been deflated. The result was a film less funny than it could have been.

Rooster's Breakfast

2008-11-16T09:17:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

This is a stunning film. One of the best I’ve seen in the past few years. The kind of movie you just want to live in. It clocks in at two hours and five minutes but flows so well, and so interestingly, I almost didn’t want it to end. I knew immediately I would be seeing it again, although where and when remains to be determined. But great news recently came from the Association of Slovenian Filmmakers, who announced in October that Rooster’s Breakfast had been chosen as Slovenia's entry in the foreign-language Oscar race, out of five movies that applied.

Completed in 2007, this first feature from Marko Nabersnik, based on the novel by Feri Lainscek, is not yet scheduled for theatrical release nor is it available on DVD but both seem likely and as soon as they occur, I will happily be urging everyone I know to see this gem of a film. Great acting, great story; touching without being cloying, funny and sexy, and very visual with little touches here and there, such as a yellow jacket hovering for two seconds above food and the use of dissolves to show time passing against hay stacks that is beautiful and perfect. Shades of Wings of Desire, a Bergmanesque moment, a little danger here and there, and plenty of humor that emanates from the souls of the characters.

The story concerns Djuro, a young man who leaves the city after losing his job and winds up working as an apprentice in a small town garage owned by Gajas (the great Vlado Novak). Djuro’s quiet life is interrupted by an affair with the beautiful Bronja, who is married to the local pimp. It is a risky love affair but clearly fueled by deep passion rather than just lust and desire. Meanwhile, Gajas is obsessed by Severina (Severina Vuckovic), a real-life Croatian pop singer who is on tour and coming to town. When Gajas is presented with an opportunity to meet her, it’s almost too much for him to bear. The ensuing scenes are funny and sad, with a touch of well-deserved violence/revenge. The title by the way deliciously refers to “sex in the morning”; a rooster’s breakfast.

A great film experience, hopefully coming to a screen, large or small, near you. Meanwhile, for a taste, watch the clips on YouTube. Click here.

An Evening with James Schamus and Carl Th. Dreyer's Gertrud September 25, 2008

2008-11-02T10:28:00.000-08:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

From the website of the Museum of Modern Art:

MoMA welcomes James Schamus, Columbia University professor and CEO of Focus Features, as he introduces a screening of Carl Th. Dreyer's Gertrud. Before the screening, Schamus will sign copies of his book Carl Theodor Dreyer's Gertrud: The Moving Word. "Schamus's book focuses on a single moment in Gertrud. He follows a trail of references and allusions back through a number of thinkers and artists (Boccaccio, Lessing, Philostratus, Charcot, and others) to reveal the richness and depth of Dreyer's work—and the excitement that can accompany cinema studies when it opens itself up to other disciplines and media. Throughout, Schamus pays particular attention to Dreyer's lifelong obsession with the 'real,' developed through his practice of 'textual realism,' a realism grounded not in standard codes of verisimilitude but on the force of its rhetorical appeal to its written, documentary sources" (University of Washington Press).

Went to see a Film with a capital “F.” Carl Th. Dreyer’s Gertrud (1964. Denmark. Written and directed by Carl Th. Dreyer. Based on the play by Hjalmar Söderberg. With Nina Pens Rode, Baard Owe; 115 min.). Introduced by the always-entertaining, extremely knowledgeable James Schamus, founder of Focus Features, Oscar-winning producer, and professor of film at Columbia University. Schamus prefaced his remarks by (not really) joking that more people would see this film that evening than had in the past ten years. Dreyer’s work, stretching from the silent era to the 1960’s and including classics such as La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc (1928), Vampyr (1932), and Ordet (1955), is known for a slow, austere, intense style, often combining realism with expressionism, which more often than not failed to find its audience in its own time, though he was, interestingly, cited as an influence on the French New Wave. This last point is fitting, given that Dreyer made a number of films in France, including La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc.

In his introduction, Schamus pointedly prepared us for a slower film – 89 shots in all, compared to the 1,500 or so shots of a typical modern movie. This makes for very long scenes indeed, at times creating a poetry of movement and a poetic experience, the camera movement often exquisite, employing long takes rather than expected cuts . A character moves from one room o the next; we (the modern audience) expect a cut to the other room; instead the camera pans, allowing the character to enter the room and leave our field of vision, remaining focused, for example, on the doorway, or the person’s shadow, while the scene continues. More poetic and more realistic at the same time than the simple expected cut, it is at once both stylized and more true to life and how we see, how we take in information visually.

Unfortunately, the characters’ lives are stifling, their problems somewhat tedious and eventually maddening, so that about two-thirds in, I began to think about the film ending and what I would have for dinner that night. And this was unfortunate, as the ending contains some of the most beautiful and interesting moments in the film. But, for this viewer, if they had come about ten minutes earlier, would have made for a more satisfying film experience. So that it became something to endure, but admittedly with a great payoff, big questions concerning how we live our lives and how we balance regret echoing in my head as I left the theater. Still, I wish even five minutes had been trimmed from within the last third, keeping the ending intact but reducing the tediousness, thereby making the ending more powerful.

Of course, who am I to wish that the great Dreyer had cut even one minute from one of his films? Just a movie-goer who the next night went to see Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona and found it a considerably more enjoyable experience but with a similar payoff much easier to arrive at. Less profound but with similar themes: Fruit Loops to Dreyer’s oatmeal. Well, that’s a bit rough; maybe more like Cheerios with bananas – fun, but not devoid of seriousness. But clearly, two different film experiences, one involving glancing at my watch; the other, not wanting to see it end. How I long for the next film I see that grasps firmly both experiences: profundity and humor. Films of humor and life; seriousness and laughter; roaring characters and quiet moments; truth in a bittersweet chocolate wrapping. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. The Seventh Seal. Amelie.

Man On Wire

2008-09-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

An excellent, essentially flawless documentary, especially given that the event it relates, Phillipe Petit’s high wire walk between the World Trade Center Twin Towers on August 7, 1974, was not filmed. The story goes (as told by co-producer Maureen Ryan at the screening/Q&A I attended in New York at the Thalia Theater) that after pulling up the wire, which had slipped over the side of one of the Towers and had to be pulled up some one hundred feet, the would-be camera-man didn’t have the strength left in his arms to hold up the Bolex camera he had brought with him and could only manage to capture some shots with a still camera. But, as Ryan pointed out, if the walk had been filmed, this film probably would not have been made. The footage would have been out there, undoubtedly on YouTube, we would have watched it, been impressed but not particularly moved, and said “Cool, what’s next?”

Instead, the filmmakers relied on still photos, video footage of the crowd in the street (including Petit’s girlfriend/accomplice peering up anxiously at the dot in the sky), music and, most importantly, editing, to create a lyrical, stunning moment come alive – the moment when Petit steps out onto to that wire.

The fact that this moment is created evocatively engages the viewer, rather than just feeds him/her. The most basic tools of filmmaking: what we see, what we don’t see, what we imagine in the space between. The viewer is invited/forced to create their own image of the actual action, and thus is created a moment of poetry and wonder, and a deeper understanding of the audacity and boldness of the event; of the daring, of the death-defying daring, of Phillip Petit’s walk. If we had just been given the event as footage, it would have been merely historical; something to marvel at certainly, but something spoon-fed. Instead, we are given a documentary that pulls us in, that we participate in. To see that with an audience becomes an experience. For myself, to see it at the Thalia Theater, which I remember from years ago in its former decrepit glory (sloping cement floor, column smack dab in the middle of the theater, but the place on the Upper West Side to see art films back when the term really meant something), was an interesting sidebar.

I would have liked the film to dwell a bit more on the fact that the walk took place nearly the same day as Richard Nixon’s resignation (August 9), pushing the latter story off the top fold of many newspapers, and the fact of the Twin Towers at the time, and up until Sept. 11, 2001, being widely reviled by New Yorkers as ugly monstrosities. But, bravo to the filmmakers for avoiding any direct referencing to 9-11, although certainly the images of the buildings going up, those steels columns that were all that remained above ground on September 12 and that were burned into our collective memory – the images of those being hoisted up is chilling, and potentially depressing. As one audience member movingly expressed it during the Q&A, she had to allow herself to give in to the story at hand, and enjoy the film for what it was about rather than dwell on what happened 27 years later.

Visit the excellent website for the film here: Man On Wire.

Directed by James Marsh.

Journey to the Center of the Earth 3-D

2008-09-14T09:51:00.000-07:00

Contributed by Mike Fishman

After a week of sun, quiet, and good food in South Florida, I was not particularly thrilled to be back in Times Square, hostling and jostling with the tourist crowd. But I knew had to catch Journey in the theater in 3-D, and so there I was, weaving my way through hot dog vendors, wax statues, and people gawking and on cell phones; it put me slightly on edge, so that when I entered the mostly-empty theater, faced with an overabundance of seat choices, I wound up moving twice before finally settling in for the journey, in the middle, three-quarters back. This was the second all-3-D movie in as many years and was much more pleasant, if less ambitious, than last year’s Beowulf. I went in with low expectations, based on the reviews I’d read, but, having long been fascinated with the book and Rick Wakeman’s far-out musical interpretation, naturally I had to go; if any summer movie called out for being seen on the big screen, this was it. (Yeah, yeah, The Dark Knight, blah, blah, blah.)

And for the most part, a very pleasant ride. A bit too weepy at times (come on, Josh Hutcherson, buck up already); Brendan Frasier annoyingly alternately playing a weak and strong character; and the music clichéd and uninspired/uninspiring; but Icelandic actress Anita Briem is a breath of fresh air as the resourceful guide and eventual (if unlikely) love interest to Frasier’s Prof. Trevor Anderson. Quite frankly, it would have been more believable, and satisfying, to have Briem plant a kiss on Hutcherson’s Sean Anderson (Prof. Anderson’s nephew) than Frasier’s at times goofy/at times heroic/most of the time screaming for help action figure. In truth, the (adventure) film would have better served with dispensing of the romantic-comedy subplot in favor of more believable science. Er, science fiction.

But, I wasn’t there for story; this is, after all, a very Hollywood take on a classic sci-fi novel, so don’t expect subtle plot or character development. It’s all about the effects, and generally speaking, very good effects they are. Unlike Beowulf, however, the effects are used in annoyingly obvious ways, too often objects and liquids propelled towards the viewer. What decade are we in, anyway, the 1950’s? I mean, seriously. What made Beowolf so interesting was the use of 3-D technology to enhance the every-day world (the beach, the drink, the food, along with the fight scenes). Here, the effects are in your face obvious, often tongue-in-cheek. To make an effect humorous is to remove the possibility of true suspension of disbelief. We are not in the underworld, we are watching a movie about the underworld. A not terribly well-acted movie, at that, Brendan Frasier being no James Mason.

Still, it was a ride and an enjoyable one at that. Some stunning visuals, enough to satisfy most sci-fi fans. More subtle use of the 3-D technology to place the viewer squarely in the action would have made it more an experience than simply a ride. As with Beowulf, what’s disappointing is that we know this story will not be told again, on the big screen; this was the one shot to make a modern classic and once again, the filmmakers have failed to do so. Worth seeing? Definitely, but mostly for sci-fi or action fans. Could have been better? Easily. I'm sure I'll watch it again at home, on DVD, sans the 3-D.

Look for Anita Briem in the forth-coming fantasy The Storyteller, written and directed by Robert A. Masciantonio.

For a nice clip of Rick Wakeman in all his flowing-robe, Journey glory: click here.

Ernest Borgnine in person

2008-08-23T09:20:00.000-07:00

August 14. Went to see Ernest Borgnine interviewed at the Lincoln Center Barnes and Noble. 91 years young. Not boyish to be sure, but full of life, vigorous, and totally there, in the moment of life as it happens. The place was jammed, as usual; I had to stand to the side outside the main room but fine if it was worth it, which it was. This was an actor; more than 190 films, spanning 60 years; obviously not the most handsome guy, but always believable. He spoke about working with Gary Cooper and that what made Cooper great was that he always listened to the other actor and reacted; it wasn’t just two people blah, blah, blahing in turn. Not to mention, back in the 50’s, a more judicious use of the close-up.

A couple of great stories about Frank Sinatra. How when they were filming From Here To Eternity (1953), Sinatra was at a low point, having lost his voice and doing gigs for $50 a night. But then Sinatra won the Oscar, regained his confidence, and it was up, up, up from there, to the stars, the greatest song interpreter and singer until Van Morrison came along (go ahead, disagree; please, you know I love the e-mail). (Not saying Van is greater than Frank, and Ella’s sweet melodies are ringing in my ears, not to mention Billie’s sad truth. Just saying Van is up there with Frank, Ella and Billie, and dat’s dat. Ain’t no one else comin’ to mind.)

Also, how for years Borgnine was known as “the guy who killed Sinatra in that movie.” How a cop once pulled him over for a traffic violation and said “Hey, ain’t you the guy who killed Sinatra?” And gave him a ticket anyway. Or because of. And how when he was filming the great Marty (1955), he was on a break and two Italian guys were checking him out, one of them looking dark, saying to the other, in Italian, “We oughta beat this guy up, he killed Sinatra,” and Borgnine, born in Italy, says back in Italian, “I can understand what you’re saying and guys, it was only a movie.” So the second guy lightens up, “You’re Italian!” and buys Borgnine lunch, pizza and wine. But the first guy kept throwing him dirty looks. “I don’t know, I still think we should beat him up. Sinatra!”

See a nice appreciation of Frank Sinatra with good details of the 40’s and 50’s here:

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200707/sinatra

Also, concerning Marty, Borgnine recounted how Louella Parsons complained about him being cast, how he was all wrong for the part, but after the film came out and he won the Oscar, publicly apologized.

He even touched on Escape from New York (1981), telling how director John Carpenter wanted him for the part he eventually took of Cabbie, which Borgnine knew he could play in his sleep, so he asked Carpenter, pleaded, to be given the role of Hauk (the Warden), which was given to Lee Van Cleef. Carpenter stuck to his guns and Ernest Borgnine gave us yet another role tailor-made for him.

Listen to Ernie talk on the Leonard Lopate show here:

http://www.wnyc.org/shows/lopate/episodes/2008/08/12/segments/105606

Adrift in Manhattan

2008-07-20T18:21:00.000-07:00

This is a beautiful film that unfortunately failed to find the wide audience in theaters it deserved. Directed by Alfred de Villa (Washington Heights), screenplay by Nat Moss based on an original story by Alfredo de Villa, the film stars Heather Graham, Dominic Chianese (The Sopranos’ Uncle Junior) and Victor Rasuk (Raising Victor Vargas) as three New Yorkers whose lives are in crisis and whose paths cross in powerful, meaningful ways. The film, which premiered in competition at the Sundance Film Festival in 2006 and won the Grand Prize at the Indianapolis International Film Festival and an Ensemble Award for Best Cast at the Palm Beach International Film Festival, achieves several noteworthy things: portrait of an artist that feels real in both Dominic Chianese as a painter who is going blind and Victor Rasuk’s amateur photographer who spots Heather Graham’s Rose in a park one day, follows her home and starts photographing her surreptitiously; portrait of a voyeur who is not a creepy pervert; a sex scene that is raw and intimate at the same time; and a look at life in the city that will feel real to anyone who actually rides the 1 train.

Supporting cast members Elizabeth Peña and William Baldwin add considerably to the depth of emotion, in particular Baldwin in a scene as a high school teacher discussing an e.e.cummings poem with his students, a poem, like many by cummings, resonating with meditation on life and death couched in deceptively simple images. Any film that dares to explore an e.e. cummings poem has something to say that is worth hearing and this tender, alive film deserves to be heard and seen.

Speaking of which, the original music by Michael A. Levine is perfectly-suited and some of the most beautiful soundtrack music I’ve heard. Check out his very interesting website where you will see that Levine is a hugely accomplished film music composer: http://www.michaellevinemusic.com.

Adrift in Manhattan is available from Netflix, which is how I viewed it. Kicking myself for not catching it in the theater but it works fine on the small screen. See it and help spread the word. Nice website devoted to the film at: http://www.adriftinmanhattan.net/

I'm Not There

2008-07-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

Finally, finally saw I’m Not There (directed by Todd Haynes). For some reason, I kept away from it, my enthusiasm for all things Dylan, once ravishing and unable to be satisfied, having been diminished by the last concert I saw (Beacon Theater, NY, a few years ago) where I enjoyed exactly one song. That song, Shelter From The Storm, a real beauty, but with everything else so not enjoyable, it made for a disappointing experience, his voice now ragged and torn but not in a poetic way. Still, Dylan is Dylan: enigmatic prophet to some; obviously a poet; creator of a body of music that will absolutely (Sweet Marie) live on.

I’ve always been drawn mostly to the mid-70’s Dylan period. Blood On The Tracks through Street Legal. OK, throw in New Morning. So I found myself connecting mostly with the Heath Ledger, Richard Gere and post-80s Christian Bale segments, when Dylan entered into a period of Born Again Christianity, curious to many but indisputably full of great tunes (Man Gave Names To All The Animals, Every Grain of Sand). Heath Ledger, of course, now tinged with sadness, having died shortly after the movie’s release and now appearing headed for a post-humus Oscar nom for the role of The Joker in The Dark Knight. But putting that aside, he did a great job of inhabiting a particular side of Bob Dylan, that may be only partly true, that is certainly not pretty, and that is simply part of the fabric that makes up the many faces of Bob Dylan. The faces given to the public; the faces turned away from the audience; the glimpses, real and fabricated. Was Dylan always re-inventing himself, or just saving himself from his adoring audience? He ridiculed Mr. Jones, but he is, after all, a performer. But a performer who is a true artist faces a difficult audience of his own making, with its own expectations, desires, demands. Miles Davis was famous for playing with his back to the audience, but as he explained, that was so he could hear his band better. Would you rather hear the sweetest melody possible, or pretend to share an intimate moment with a musician you only know as an image?

Cate Blanchett does an impressive turn as the infamous Dylan of the mid-60’s; the sneering wordsmith in the snug suit who came across a bit too smug, but who knew/knows what was an act and what wasn’t? Dylan and those around him, but we who were only being born at the time, or later, can only shrug, read, watch, and try and guess. Certainly, a little Dylan of this period goes a long way and can becomes tiresome, and unfortunately, Todd Haynes chose to concentrate much too much on this time period and the whole Mr. Jones thing. Yes, he makes good points about the era, and Vietnam, and our society at the time, but he hits us over the head with it like a lamp he wants to flood our vision with, and after a bit, it’s enough, then too much, we get the point, can’t we move on? But then, isn’t that the role of the artist at times: to push and push, into annoyance, until the point they are striving for gets under our skin, and stays there?

See a nice “Shelter From The Storm” at:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=sEhwvn5_wEM

The Incredible Hulk

2008-06-28T10:29:00.000-07:00

For serious comic book and action film fans, a considerable amount is riding on this film. Considerable, not huge. Granted it’s not life and death but it is another opportunity for Hollywood to get it right or get it wrong. Ang Lee’s 2003 Hulk was widely considered a disappointment, although his visual style (wipes, split screen, etc.) cannot be denied as appropriate and impressive. But the Hulk himself was the main attraction and, unfortunately, the main disappointment.

Here, directed by Louis Letterier (The Transporter 2), the Hulk is an improvement, certainly, feeling more in the action and more lifelike. Too bad his head appears to be two sizes too small for his body; or is it that his hands and feet are just wildly out of proportion? And in one “touching” scene with Liv Tyler, he veers a little too far into cuddly-King Kong a la Peter Jackson territory. We want a badass monster we can root for, and generally-speaking we do get that, particularly in the main fight scene that takes place in Harlem; one of the best good monster vs. bad monster fights I’ve seen since, well, War of the Gargantuas (1966; available through Netflix). I liked Spiderman and Superman but I’m talking about monster on monster or super-hero vs. super-hero smack-down where you’re not rolling your eyes at some point. Personally, I was rolling my eyes a lot during Spiderman and Superman.

Aside from that fight scene, and an intriguing start, Letterier relies much too heavily on loud audio effects to get his points across, his points being mainly about noise, violence and gnashing of teeth. And the casting of Ed Norton, at first a fascinating choice, proves deadly; Norton doesn’t have an ounce of humor or levity, and without that, it makes for a dour hero indeed; it’s hard to be sympathetic to a character you don’t like. So that the Hulk and Norton’s Bruce Banner seem to be completely different beings, not the dark side of the human that made the TV show such a huge success and must-see, at least in its time. This is why it’s so hard for comic books to translate to the screen; the imagination of the reader, the mind’s eye, is lost, and we are given, generally, a well-known actor we have to suspend disbelief for.

But, oh, that fight scene in Harlem, with the Hulk finally summoning up deep, deep strength and blood-curdling anger from within and letting rip a truly monstrous and chilling roar sending chills up the spine. Makes you want to believe. Too bad the bulk of the Hulk wasn’t that incredible.

Bullitt

2008-06-08T09:17:00.000-07:00

1968. Plays out like a classic one-hour cop show (say Mannix or Starsky and Hutch but more violent and sexy) but there’s a terrific little scene with Steve McQueen and Jacqueline Bisset in bed, in the morning, woken by a phone call. “Who was it?” she asks. “Del” he replies, referring to buddy/fellow cop Delgado. But he won’t tell her what it was about, the ugliness that is his line of work and that she will complain about later. But here, she accepts his not telling, and they kiss, and start making out, really making out – it feels real. That “just woke up together and start making love again” thang. Yes, I remember once, with a sweet girl I knew from college, in an old empty house on a weekday, calling in sick to work…

And then there’s the car chase, McQueen clearly doing much of the driving. And it’s a good car chase, starting with the buckling of a seat belt in close-up that is a great touch, funny and grim at the same time. And the cars go flying through the air, hubcaps springing off in all directions, the audience watching at the MOMA oohing and aahing and actually applauding when the bad guys lose – but it’s a gruesome loss, the car engulfed in flames, one body flailing horribly. But that’s this director’s (Peter Yates; Krull, The Deep, Breaking Away) style: heavy-handed. Not unpleasant, but heavy, grim, pointed.

Here the result is a muscular film that does not become overly-macho. But some odd choices here and there, such as a short, dialogue-free scene where we find McQueen and Bissett on a date at a nightclub, she looking over at the (jazz) band, he appearing to frown at her, then lighten up. What the hell was that about? Did he think she was flirting? Weird.

In any event, an exciting film that becomes communal on a big screen with an audience.

Charlie Wilson’s War

2008-06-08T08:41:00.000-07:00

Directed by the prolific Mike Nichols (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, The Graduate, Catch-22, Silkwood, Working Girl, Postcards From The Edge, What Planet Are You From?), screenplay by Aaron Sorkin (The West Wing, A Few Good Men). Much more enjoyable than I thought it would be. Low expectations and pleasantly surprised.

Tom Hanks, immensely likable and using his eyes well to convey character and emotion, but interestingly over-shadowed by Julia Roberts, her best work since Erin Brockovich (2000), except for the unfortunate hair; I understand the need for period detail and Texas socialite, but did it have to look so much like a wig? But you could feel the audience leaning in towards her whenever she came on-screen; during one scene where she groomed her false eyelids with a safety pin, a gasp went through the audience: Oh my God, a safety pin near Julia Roberts’ eye! Her charisma was palpable and she and Hanks worked well off each other.

Amy Adams a nice surprise. She’s in danger of over-exposure but you can’t fault her perky likability. Just a pleasant actress to watch. Occasionally you can see the work going on behind the bright eyes, but that smile! Those teeth! That wonderful red hair! It seems like she entered into film at just the right time. We need a perky new star.

Typically well-directed by Mike Nichols; the camera smooth, the editing unobtrusive. Leaves you with something to think about, like a well-done play.

Definitely, Maybe

2008-06-08T08:36:00.000-07:00

A fun romantic-comedy. Not among the best but we all know how hard it is to make a fresh romantic comedy. This had a few twists, though, such as having much of the action take place during Bill Clinton’s first Presidential campaign, providing at least an interesting background story. The conceit of the mystery of the identity of Ryan Reynold’s character’s true love was OK, though a bit clunky as a plot device. Still, Adam Brooks, the writer and director, (previous credits as writer include Practical Magic and Wimbledon), did a nice job of keeping the mystery going and keeping the true lovers apart until the end. Occasionally a little over-directed, particularly in the flashy beginning, and the music was heavy-handed at times (but very nice use of Otis Redding at one point).

Ryan Reynolds very effective here; like Paul Rudd, when he sticks to what he’s best at (comedy) he is excellent. Few can do sarcasm as well (again, Paul Rudd comes to mind, as well as Matthew Perry), but in this film, his sarcasm is held in check for the most part, unfortunately, making his character more likable but less funny.

It looked like we weren’t going to get the requisite KISS but at the last moment we got it – sexy, too, with Isla Fisher straddling him with her legs. They have nice chemistry, these two. I’d like to see them in another comedy.

Brooks recycles (or “borrows”) the idea of a book having sentimental value from Serendipity and that lack of originality kept the book and what it represents from having the emotional punch it could have.

Smiley Face

2008-02-16T09:11:00.001-08:00

Greg Araki’s films (Mysterious Skin, The Doom Generation, The Living End) are usually muscular and intense affairs, so when I heard Anna Faris was starring in his latest, I knew I had to go if only out of curiosity. Greg Araki making a comedy with the perky chick from the Scary Movies? Of course, Anna Faris is much more than that, as her small roles and bit parts in films such as Lost in Translation and Brokeback Mountain proved. And this turned out to be not just your average comedy, but one of the ultimate stoner comedies yet made. (Since the genre is “stoner comedy,” there can be more than one, in case you were about to ask.) Essentially one long flashback (funny, wasn’t the last comedy I saw structured like that?), it’s a relentless trip down a disastrous day in the life of this not-so-cute loser. Take Larry David and Alan Partridge, feed them a tray of hash brownies, mix in a serving of Sarah Silverman, and you have her character. Self-centered to nth degree, but she means well; she’s just really dumb and really, really stoned. The script, by Dylan Haggerty, who tellingly has credits ranging from the TV show 24 to The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie, is a funny and interesting ride, and even though we see each series of calamities and mishaps coming from a mile away, there are many laugh out loud moments. Of course, it’s all laughing at the main character, not with, and the most interesting choice this film makes, aside from the casting, is that there is no narrative arc; she makes absolutely no progress during the journey. It makes for an unsettling movie experience, and gives a hollow ring to the laughs that just came before it, but with a so-called comedy from Greg Araki, could anyone expect anything different?

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

2008-02-16T08:54:00.001-08:00

And now for something completely different…Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, written by Judd Apatow and Jake Kasdan, directed by Jake Kasdan, and starring John C. Reilly. A diversion. As with Three Girls About Town (a 1941 screwball comedy starring Joan Blondell, seen at the MOMA just previous to this but not much to write about unfortunately), much of the comedy was predictable, but funny, though often coarse. In fact, here, it was often simply the comedy of repetition. Look, see Dewey Cox try a new drug; look, see Dewey Cox fall off the wagon again; look, see Dewey Cox cut his brother in half again; but Riley is so likeably loopy and the writers keep raising the ante so expertly, that it was, in the end, funny. Full of funny moments. A send-up of The Beatles, not really seen before (“I’m Paul McCartney. I’m the leader of the Beatles.”) and some humorous Dylan jokes, not to mention a Pink Floyd reference. And Jenna Fischer (The Office) as his second wife/true love is fresh and camera -friendly. Full frontal, er, sideways male nudity is used three times in one scene for humor, but it’s done in such a matter of fact way, it’s shock humor rather than exhibitionist humor and funnier for that.

Great ending, too, with a final joke that gets to the heart of parody: Dewey performing for the first time in 20 years, finally weaving a masterpiece out of the fabric of his life, then dying 3 minutes later, in front of his adoring audience (keeping in mind the movie was one long flashback that ended as the performance is about to begin, and then he dies). Then, after the credits, a brief snippet of the “real” Dewey Cox looking, huh, just like John C. Riley. Clever stuff. On a scale of 1 –5? A 3. As with any decent comedy, interesting to observe how something might be funny to most of the audience and other bits funny to just a few. Generally speaking, physical humor versus verbal humor. You can guess which gets the bigger laughs. To the filmmakers’ credit, the afore-mentioned closing scene is in effect a combination of the two : Dewey finishing his song to a standing ovation, freeze frame on him smiling and basking in the audience’s glow, subtitle on screen comes up stating Dewey died 3 minutes later, cut to freeze frame shot of Cox (3 minutes later) clutching his chest and falling to ground. A very effective combination of verbal/written humor, physical/visual humor, and the ultimate irony to befall the character to define the parody/satire. Clever, clever stuff. But still a 3.

The Savages

2008-01-20T10:18:00.000-08:00

I left The Savages, written and directed by Tamara Jenkins (who also wrote and directed the wonderful The Slums of Beverly Hills), irritated and in a foul mood, but not because it’s a bad film. It is, in fact, a pretty good film, but depressing and focused on characters who come across as more pathetic than sympathetic. Philip Bosco is excellent as the aging Lenny Savage, nearing death and growing increasingly feeble. Laura Linney, always terrific, is strong as the daughter who tries her best to help, but the fact that she is having an affair with a married man (Peter Freidman, playing a manipulative loser) makes her less likable as a character. Although she dumps him in the end, she asks to keep his crippled dog, and the closing scene with her jogging with the dog in a harness due to his arthritic legs comes across as a trite attempt to end on a hopeful note for her. Since she is a writer who begins to achieve some success as a playwright, it seemed to me it would have been more effective to simply end with the portrayal of that success signaling her life turn-around. And while I can understand her feelings of tenderness towards the dog, is it realistic that someone would take the dog into her life, a daily reminder of the bad relationship? I suppose that’s a question better addressed by a true dog lover. Not being a dog owner myself (although I don’t dislike dogs), maybe I just can’t relate to it.

Philip Seymour Hoffman as usual is utterly believable in his role as Lenny’s other child, and the interplay between him and Linney is a good portrayal of the relationship between two extremely self-centered siblings. Unfortunately, as with Jack Black in Margo At the Wedding, when Hoffman’s character cries, it comes across as pathetic rather than funny or moving, and I found myself rolling my eyes. There are moments of heart-felt humor, and moments that felt true to life, but the characters are simply not very likable. These are characters who, rather than want to see rise to the occasion and get their life together, you just want to kick in the ass. The film started to feel stifling and at a certain point, I simply was looking forward to it ending. The fact that it kept me engaged, however, is a testament to the fact that it is a well-made film focused squarely on some of the most important issues a film, or any art form, can address: death and dying, responsibility to our parents, how we live our lives, the search for love and intimacy. An interesting discussion followed this film when a fellow viewer pointed out the parallels to Peter Pan; Laura Linney’s character named Wendy, Hoffman’s named Jon, both fighting growing up and facing life head-on, and Wendy’s play, based on her brother as a boy, featuring a scene where a little boy ascends to the heavens. So, bravo to Jenkins for making a film focused on such serious issues and in some ways, an important film. Just not an enjoyable experience.

But then, perhaps there are two kinds of positive movie-going experiences; the experience of being moved (if irritated as well…) but recognizing the film as not one necessarily to be returned to, and the experience of enjoying a film so much that one immediately looks forward to seeing it again. And when the latter happens, it’s often worth going a second time; I enjoyed going back to see Ratatouille, just to see for a second time the scene where the film critic tastes the ratatouille and is transported back, for a fleeting, beautiful moment, to childhood. If A Tree Grows in Brooklyn had been playing a second time at the MOMA, I would have absolutely been there. And then there are those negative movie-going experiences, when one just wants the film to die already, and when one is better off getting up, leaving the theater, and looking for something to eat. Perhaps Thai food, or a nice thin crust pizza…

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

2008-01-08T17:30:00.000-08:00

What a great start to a year of watching movies. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (1945) at the MOMA (in the good theater, downstairs), 2:30 on New Year’s Day and the place was packed. Not completely full, but mostly. An older crowd, but a few parents and kids. Got there just in time to land a seat in the middle, no water bottle or snack, nothing to disturb me from just fully concentrating on the film. And what a beautiful ride. This first film directed by Elia Kazan, based on the beloved book by Betty Smith, won Oscars for Peggy Ann Garner as 12-year-old Francie Nolan and James Dunn as her likable but unsuccessful father Johnny. A beautiful movie, nearly perfect. If you don’t have a tear in your eye art least once, your heart has turned into a little black ball. Slightly stagey as far as the “tree” is concerned; we only see characters looking out the window at the tree, not the tree itself, making it feel, for a few moments, like a play. But other than that minor quibble, the film works beautifully, riding a line between period realism and sentimentality, barely tipping its toe into sentimentality, but you know, a little sentimentality is OK. Good for the skin, they say. Comedy moves in, but heartfelt. Sweet and to the point.

The detail is exquisite. There’s no question of authenticity. When someone says there’s five pennies on the table, there’s five pennies on the table. The coffee is black and steaming and real. It’s composed of moments that feel real. Small moments with big flourishes. Big moments with small flourishes. An immigrant grandmother, knitting, explaining to her growing grandchildren why learning to read is so important. Francie lost in the world of books on the fire escape. In some ways, you might say, not a big film. But deep. True. And honest as (narrative) film can be, keeping in mind this was made over 60 years ago. Even a film as “basic,” visually speaking, as this benefits greatly from being seen in the theater with an audience. Even if the screen at the MOMA isn’t that big, a close-up of a face is still 20 feet high as compared to 20 inches at home. And in the theater, obviously, there’s no rewind. You have to take it as it comes and move along with it. And then of course, the interesting dynamic, the triangle between the viewer, the screen and the audience. The audience effect. When the viewer laughs, and others laugh along, they connect, on some level, to the same stimuli. A shared experience laughing at shared experience. And when they cry? Strangers, staring up at the same screen, with tears in their eyes inspired by their own lives, their own relationships, strong or broken. The moment of knowing you are sharing in these feelings, the moment of choking up, and knowing others around you are as well. What art can do.

Vaguely ritualistic. Except that we are all strangers. You might be one of two, or one of three, or one of one; in any case, the rest of the audience are, essentially, local strangers. Is there meaning to this? The shared experience? At the least we can suppose that it impresses the movie more directly on the viewer. A more intense experience, probably, than one would have at home, even assuming DVD (the stop, pause, and rewind buttons only as far as the bowl of potato chips and ice cold root beer.) But what if it were on TV proper, with no commercials (say, TCM), and with the phone off the hook and promises oneself no e-mail for the next two hours; without the distraction of an audience, and with the comfort of one’s favorite chair, could it have even more (solitary experience) power? Assuming also, first time viewing: that’s crucial. It is after all the first viewing that is the emotional one. From then on, you know what’s coming. I do know that the first time I saw The Seventh Seal, it was at home on TV, and I was totally blown away. Subsequently I have seen it three times in various theaters and always enjoy seeing it with a crowd and LARGER. Deep down, I wish that first viewing had been at a theater; it was and remains memorable, but the smallness of the TV is there, in my mind’s picture, kind of like a mole that annoys whenever seen.

In any event, seen in a theater or at home, this film is definitely art, in its ability to evoke those shared situations of laughter and tears. Tender and funny moments sprinkled throughout. The most real film I have seen in a long time, thanks to Kazan’s clean direction and the uniformly great acting (not to mention the coffee and pennies on the table.) Interestingly, one “big” scene turned out not to be big: when we learn Johnny Nolan has died, it is done in such a matter-of-fact way, the tears are not jerked, making a later scene, when Francie receives a “gift” from him that much more powerful. The reality of him being gone hits you with a finality that is, I believe, more true to real life than the drawn out drama we often get in films when a major character dies. I mean, really, when have you ever seen a believable death scene? And indeed, the gift is what allows the girl to finally let go and cry over her beloved father. Anyone who has dealt with the death of someone close knows the truth of this, that the reality of it actually hits you later, the reality that you will never see, or hear them laugh, again. You may have been shocked by their death, and may have grieved at their gravesite, but when that reality hits you, and it could be years later, that’s when you really grieve.

Lars and the Real Girl

2008-01-05T09:27:00.000-08:00

Lars and the Real Girl, written by Nancy Oliver, directed by Craig Gillespie.

It’s a miracle this film ever got made. And it’s a miracle it works, given its’ absurd plot of Lars Lindstrom (Ryan Gosling), an extremely shy young man living in a small northern town being so emotionally damaged that he succumbs to the delusion that a life-size plastic doll he sends away for is real. This may be the only weak point in an otherwise excellent film: the motivation for his actions in the first place. He just doesn’t seem that damaged that he would turn that delusional. It sounds like a major problem, but amazingly, it isn’t. Pulled off it is, Gosling giving his character uncontrolled blinking and facial ticks that help make him believable. It helps that Gosling is surrounded by equally talented actors, including the always reliable and never more beautiful Patricia Clarkson as the small town doctor who gently helps lead him back to reality. Paul Schneider as his trying-to-be-understanding brother is solid, though he seems to always be on the verge of smiling even when being completely serious and sober, giving him the air of a pompous wise-ass.

This is a film that depends very much on the details to make it work and the filmmakers have done a wonderful job in that regard, from the bulky computer monitors that sit on Lars’ desk to his half-zippered pants that he is oblivious to. Kelli Garner is wonderful as the girl we know will eventually become Lars’ real girl, but what’s keeping him from her at the beginning is missing; she’s clearly available and interested in him, so what is it that makes him so afraid to date real girls? We simply don’t get enough dramatic details of his past, and when we do, it’s simply not enough to explain his actions. But, taken as a comedy-drama that is not meant to be overly-realistic, it’s a terrific little film, and the fact that one can suspend disbelief enough to care about Lars, and to get emotionally involved with the characters and situation, well, that’s the little miracle this film creates.

Not a perfect film and one that could easily unravel once one starts to pick at it. Yet, the very fact that this is a film that shouldn’t work, but does, makes it one of the most interesting of the year. Nice clean direction, too, although I do wish the shot of Lars, in the doctor’s waiting room when a mother allows her young daughter to sit on the doll’s knee, was held a bit longer; it’s one of the funniest shots in the film but we are barely able to register it when the scene cuts.

Nice interview with writer Nancy Oliver from cinematical.com, a great resource:

Cinematical: Take us through how you got your start as a writer.

Nancy Oliver: I have always written, since I was a little girl. I would rather have been a rock star, but that didn't work out. I got serious about it when I was about 21, which was a while ago. I had seen Saturday Night Live, and at the time I was acting in college, but nobody was casting me because I was totally wrong for everything. So seeing SNL, I started thinking I could do that. Alan Ball and I were friends in college so we put on our first show together and it took off from there. We had a theater company for a long time, and wrote and produced all our material.

Cinematical: Was the desire ever to get into another medium or would you have been happy doing that the rest of your life?

NO: I was interested in every kind of writing. I was possessed by theater because I had the means to do it, whereas to get to a camera is a different sort of path. I didn't head specifically for television or film until I had sort of already turned myself into a writer. I wanted to have a certain command of what I did and a certain knowledge of styles, and I just wanted to be able to handle myself technically and in terms of craft before I came to L.A.

Cinematical: And Six Feet Under was your first television gig? How did you get on there?

NO: Yeah, it was my first legit job. I had been writing content for the website for a year, and I had a job reading scripts for Alan. After the first two seasons, they changed up the writing staff, and I came on in the third season. We had worked together for over 20 years, but the job came as a big surprise to me. I didn't expect it and didn't go looking for it. And I was actually going back to Florida at the time, giving up on show business when the Six Feet Under job came through.

Cinematical: Good thing you didn't go back! What was the writing process on that show, was it a traditional writers' room or was it written more like a film?

NO: It was a full-out writers' room, everybody was in on everything. We would break the story, break the season, break down individual episodes. And then you were assigned an episode and you'd go off to write it, and then you'd come back to the room and everyone would go through it line by line. There were three or four passes, and then you were on set with it.

Cinematical: Did you write Lars and the Real Girl after Six Feet Under ended?

NO: I wrote it before I was hired for Six Feet Under, in 2001/2002. I had just written it for myself, for kicks. And then when I actually got an agent a couple of months later, I told them I have this screenplay lying around. And they said "OK, we'll take a look at it." And then it kind of sat around on peoples' desks for a while. Or under peoples' desks for a while. And then I started meeting a couple of producers. I wanted to write a contemporary fairy tale.

Cinematical: At the screening I was in, there was a lot of laughter. And I questioned whether it was a response to the comedy or an uncertainty about how to react to what was going on in the film. Did you intend it as a comedy or were you not even thinking of it in that way?

NO: I was telling a story. And in a good story, you get everything. I never tried to control peoples' responses to the material at all. I think some of the laughter is nervous, and then I think there are some parts of it that are just really funny. We did this with Six Feet Under too. You know how when you go to a funeral, and something happens that's funny? It doesn't bother me when people laugh.

Cinematical: The only real issue I had with the movie -- and I eventually came around to it 100% -- but there was a point about halfway through when I was getting frustrated with the other characters enabling Lars. Was that a concern of yours, that the audience would get angry at the other characters for continuing to fuel his delusion?

NO: When someone has a delusion, it doesn't matter what you say to him. It's not about enabling, because you can scream at somebody and throw things when they have a delusion, and it's not going to change their mind. This is everybody's problem with the movie. There were originally scenes in the movie where you saw people being mean to him (Lars), but there wound up being no time or money to shoot those scenes. But in the end, it's not about the people who are cruel to him. It's not about confronting the audience with that reality. It's about exploring the geography of kindness and compassion. So in a way, that stuff was irrelevant to me. It was a given that people would treat him badly, but that wasn't the point of the story. Can I ask you a question? I'm interested in your response to the whole enabling thing. Did you ever see that movie Russian Ark? The one where it's one shot through the whole entire movie?

Cinematical: I'm familiar with it, but haven't watched it.

NO: The first 20 minutes of that movie, I was so tense because there weren't any cuts. And I was either going to walk out of the movie or I was going to stay. And I kind of feel that's the same kind of tension that develops in Lars, when you see people not being mean to him. Is that how you experienced it?

Cinematical: I was never eying the door or checking my watch. To me, it just seems that somebody would have sat Lars down and told him his relationship with the doll was ridiculous. When I started to change was when Lars was having breakfast, and his brother made a cutting remark, and Lars totally disregarded it. That was when I started saying "OK, no matter what anybody says, it's not going to be an issue for him." Was the issue of Lars becoming a man the theme you were going for? That definitely seems to be Lars' arc.

NO: That's written in right from the top, as far as I'm concerned. It becomes articulated in the middle of the movie. My whole thing was that what makes Lars break and go delusional is this convergence of pressures. He's 26, he hasn't been able to make contact, he hasn't been able to break through, his sister-in-law is pregnant, he has a desire to be normal to be grow up and be a man. All of those elements come together to break him, and how to be a man is part of that -- how does he move on from where he is? He's stunted, and he knows it. And to me, it seemed like the question that he had to ask his older brother. It's a big question. There's no guidance. Who do you ask? Who prepares you? If you don't have a good father, how do you know?

Cinematical: At any point in the writing process did you consider exploring the sexual relationship between Lars and the doll?

NO: In the original script, and it's not that I have any differences with the movie that was made, my intention was to make that another of the pressures that was on Lars -- his sexuality. With Ryan's interpretation and the director's interpretation, that whole line was kind of cut out of the movie, which is fine. It made it a different movie.There was one scene in my original script where you saw Lars beginning to touch her and sort of get a sense of her femaleness while he was giving her a bath, but that didn't sit with Ryan's interpretation, and so that left the movie.

Cinematical: Yeah, Lars seemed almost asexual to me in the film.

NO: Yeah, that was a choice that Ryan made with the director. It wasn't how I envisioned the character. That's what happens, they take it in their own direction. Ryan had very specific things that he wanted to play. You see little hints of sexuality in the bowling scene, but in Ryan's interpretation, Lars wasn't at that point yet. In my mind, in the script he kind of was, but anyway...

Cinematical: You have to be happy with the final product, though.

NO: I'm very happy with the way it came out.This happens all the time when a script gets produced. That's just part of the process, things fall away. I'm not trying to indicate displeasure with the final product at all, it was just different in the script. I was on set for the whole thing, so I kind of knew what they were getting. It wasn't a surprise to me. There's a lot of twitching and cringing when you finally see it, but a lot of that is just my own writing.

Cinematical: What inspired this script?

NO: A script is born from so many different things. The specific real doll thing -- I had a weird job that brought me in contact with a lot of young guys and a lot of weird websites. And I saw that website, and the dolls' faces are kind of haunting and creepy. At the same time, I can completely understand how it could happen and why people have them. So that stayed with me for a while. I wanted to make a fairy tale and give it that twist. It's an old story, and you just try to package in as many universal themes as will fit.

Cinematical: I understood the sex doll thing too. I think a lot of people would say "Oh these people are sick perverts." I would never purchase one, but knowing how hard it is to approach the opposite sex, especially if you are shy and introverted -- I understand. It didn't freak me out is what I'm saying.

NO: Exactly. Is it so different from a pet? Some people get really creeped out, but people have all different ways to act out, and it's not always sexual. At least he connects with something.

Cinematical: Did you purchase a real doll? Get any hands-on experience for the script?

NO: Oh no, they're like $6500 bucks. They used four different ones in the movie. There are different heads and bodies that you fit together. I wasn't involved in the actual choosing of the doll.

Cinematical: The casting, if you will?

NO: The casting, yeah!

Cinematical: And what's next?

NO: I'm back in television again, a vampire series for HBO (True Blood). The Alan Ball show. That's fun. It comes from a series of books, that whole genre of vampire fiction. It's about Louisiana vampires, and the vampires are mainstreaming at this point. And it's sex, blood, fangs, violence, fun. The production design is awesome. We just started shooting the episodes. Depending on the writers' strike, they're aiming to air that in the summer. I am working on a new feature script for Warner Brothers. I can tell you it's going to be a "southeastern western," and completely different from Lars.

Here’s an interview director Craig Gillespie gave to Filmmaker magazine in October 2007:

Filmmaker: How long have you been here in America?

Gillespie: 20 years. I came over when Crocodile Dundee came out and it was fun to be Australian for about three weeks, and then I had to lose the accent because I couldn’t get through a conversation without people going, “Oh, my God, you’re Australian!”

Filmmaker: When you were in advertising, was it always your aim to get into directing?

Gillespie: Yeah, I mean features was [always the aim]. I enjoy doing commercials, it’s a great way to try things and take risks and work with really good people. The cinematographers you get to work with, everybody works in commercials: Adam [Kimmel, the DP on Lars and the Real Girl] I did hundreds of commercials with, and Rodrigo Prieto I worked with, who did Babel and Brokeback [Mountain]. There’s all these guys you get to pick their brains and learn from, so it’s great from that aspect.

Filmmaker: So was there a conscious game plan to get into features?

Gillespie: Well, for the last seven years I’ve been trying to do a movie! [laughs] Woodcock happened to be the one that I got to do first, and it was a great learning experience and I’m actually really happy it worked out this way. In some ways it was humbling, and then to be able to take those things that I learned and worked through and then apply them to Lars was great.

Filmmaker: Mr. Woodcock wasn’t the smoothest of productions.

Gillespie: Depends what you mean by smooth. [laughs] I was trying to make it an Alexander Payne film, which didn’t suit the concept. I was making a much more dark, complex film than I think the concept could sustain. It’s a great concept, but it’s a broad concept. What I realized when we went to a test screening [is that] it’s a gym teacher from hell that torments this guy, and they wanted those big gags in there and I miscalculated the audience.

Filmmaker: There were reshoots, weren’t there?

Gillespie: Yeah, and David Dobkin came in to do those. It’s a sensibility that I think he was better suited for.

Filmmaker: Mr. Woodcock certainly seems like much more of a David Dobkin kind of movie, and is comedically extremely different from Lars and the Real Girl.

Gillespie: They're dealing in very different ways. In Mr. Woodcock it’s a conventional comedy in the sense that it’s all about the writing and the punchlines, and that’s what a large studio comedy is. It’s about the witty one-liners, and each scene builds to that moment, whereas in Lars it’s much more of a character story. The humor comes from the relationships and it’s not about the writing, it’s about the situations. It’s a different kind of humor.

Filmmaker: You said Mr. Woodcock was a learning experience, so what lessons did you take away from it?

Gillespie: Honestly, the really basic one [is this]: I came into Woodcock a first-time director and I thought that I had to show that I know exactly what I’m doing and the reins were really tight and I had to have all the answers, and so I would say, “You’re doing this and this and this, and this is how it’s going to work,” and it wasn’t as collaborative as it really should have been. After that experience, I came into Lars and I realized it’s really a group effort and you’ve got to let everybody contribute.

Filmmaker: So you’re saying you were being too controlling?

Gillespie: Yeah. It was really liberating [on Lars and the Real Girl]. I could come in and say to the actors, “So, what do you want to do?” and turn to the DP say, “What do you think?” It was a creative process with all of us and you have all these great ideas coming up.

Filmmaker: Was there about a year between the two films?

Gillespie: There was a year, but literally Lars got set up three weeks after I finished principal photography on Woodcock. Actually, we had the great luxury of prepping Lars for a year, so I went to Canada three times and scoured it, and worked with Ryan [Gosling] for months in advance, and we really got to thoroughly prepare for this movie. All those visits to Bianca down at the factory… [laughs]

Filmmaker: The film is set over the course of a long winter, so how long did you shoot for?

Gillespie: 31 days.

Filmmaker: That’s quick for a whole winter.

Gillespie: Yeah, and particularly because there’s 196 scenes in the film. There were days when Ryan would go through nine different scenes and wardrobe changes, basically go through the [timeframe of] the whole movie in a day, and all the different grieving processes and alienations. But it was a movie that we thoroughly blocked out beforehand, my DP and I, and we were very economical on the coverage which I think served the movie and the tone of it.

Filmmaker: There seems to be an interesting conflict between the low-key tone of the film and what was presumably a very frantic feeling on set, due to your restricted shooting time.

Gillespie: The shooting style came from the creative process rather than from the schedule but we approached the way that we were telling story in a very 70s style. I looked at a lot of 70s movies trying to figure out how they captured these tones in this moment, and one of the basic things is there’s not a lot of coverage. You let scenes play out, and you let them play out in wide shot.

Filmmaker: Which 70s movies did you watch as reference points for this?

Gillespie: The closest were the Hal Ashby films, like Being There. The best thing that I wanted to capture from Being There was the sense that [Chance, the protagonist] is in this protective bubble, and you hope all the way though the film that it’s not going to burst and that his story’s not going to be ruined. I wanted to try and capture that in Lars and try and figure out what that tension is that you have to keep sustaining so the audience is invested and on the edge of their seat a little bit but ultimately totally relieved that it works out. That was a good reference in terms of the pace and the patience of that film. We [also] looked at Harold and Maude, Local Hero, but the funny thing with those films is that they didn’t go to quite as deep an emotional place as I knew Ryan would want to go. That was the part that I really felt like we were going out on a limb, the part that was really interesting.

Filmmaker: How clear a vision of the film did you have when you first read Nancy Oliver’s script?

Gillespie: Honestly, it’s the only script I’ve read that I knew exactly how I wanted to shoot. I don’t know particularly why that is, but there’s a style to her writing that I completely got the tone of what was going on, and that hasn’t happened before or since.

Filmmaker: You’ve said that Ryan Gosling was first choice for the role of Lars, and yet it's totally unlike anything he’s done before.

Gillespie: It’s completely unlike anything he’s done before, but I was first and foremost approaching this from a dramatic place and treating the material with the utmost respect, so I wanted an incredibly capable actor. When I met him, he has this accessibility and this openness about him, and as we discussed the scenes I could see this innocence in the way that he would think about things. Within 45 minutes, I thought, “This is the guy.” And it was really exciting to see that it was him and that he’d be able to take it to some really emotional places and not shy away from that. I wasn’t quite sure how far he would go, but that’s what was exciting.

Filmmaker: How involved was Ryan in the creation of the character?

Gillespie: Enormously. All the details and the clothing, the layers, the blanket, the watch, the moustache, the weight, it’s all stuff that he builds slowly and is part of the process of figuring out his characters. It’s all stuff that’s not on the page that we have to talk about and design and discuss. He gets consumed with it, and completely gives himself over to it.

Filmmaker: It’s heartening to see that, despite his success, he’s still doing character roles like this.

Gillespie: I felt we were being spoiled while we were making this film because we truly had the freedom to explore the character and try things in scenes and make mistakes, and we were allowed to go out on that limb. It’s such a rare thing these days. We stuck very closely to Nancy’s script but there are half a dozen scenes that were really Ryan’s creation that are some of the most memorable moments in the movie for me, like when he’s dancing at the party or the resuscitation with the teddy bear. There are some beautiful moments that aren’t on the page. We’d get a call from the studio: “I guess you didn’t shoot the script yesterday.” [laughs] But they were OK with that, it wasn’t a big deal. I think they instilled confidence in us with that.

Filmmaker: If you had an unlimited budget and could cast whoever you wanted (alive or dead), what film would you make?
Gillespie: To me, the unlimited budget part's not really relevant because I don't think you need a lot of money to make a beautiful piece. Honestly, I'd like to work with Ryan again. Just to find that collaboration, somebody that you're in sync with, is rare. There's actually a project that we want to do that we can't get, so I won't get into the details of that. It's frustrating. It's a book, and we're still working on [getting] it.

Filmmaker: What was the first film you ever saw?

Gillespie: I remember seeing The Poseidon Adventure when I was four at a drive-in. I don't think it was the best choice my parents made. [laughs]

Filmmaker: Did you have nightmares afterwards?

Gillespie: Yeah. I remember the kitchen scene, throwing the jacket over the burnt face. That was the first [movie] I can remember.

Filmmaker: What impact did it have on you?

Gillespie: It's funny, I didn't really create a passion for film until I was in my twenties, and even then it was a friend of mine who got me into directing, because he was doing it. So it wasn't really on my radar. I enjoyed films, but it's something that I became more educated in as I got older.

Filmmaker: Finally, what was your dream job as a kid?

Gillespie: I wanted to be a pilot, a jet pilot. I wasn't smart enough. But I feel like now I'm in my dream job. I've made a film that's a good reflection of me and my sensibilities and was a great experience.

2007-12-24T10:25:00.000-08:00

Two fine movies in as many days. First up, The Docks of New York (1928). I’d seen this once before on video, at home, and knew I had to catch it on film, on the big screen, even if the screen at the MOMA where I saw it is not actually all that big. Still, larger than home and great to see it with an audience. A truly great silent film from Josef von Sternberg, written by Jules Furthman, right on the edge of the end of the silent era. This is a film you just don’t want to end, characters you could stay with for more, and more. George Bancroft as the toughest of the tough, Betty Compson as the young woman who attempts suicide, then finds new hope for a new life with Bancroft’s Bill Roberts, a stoker on a ship with a real heart and natural charisma beneath layers of grease and sweat. Betty Compson was in more than 200 films, stretching back to the early silent comedies of 1915 and ending in the late 1940’s, covering comedy, drama and thriller. George Bancroft later appeared alongside James Cagney in the 1939 classic Each Dawn I Die.

I think anyone seriously interested in film should make an effort to see a silent film once a year. Not only for the history (history of film and history of era), but for the lessons in story-telling, for how they work purely visually, how the need for dialogue falls away when you get into the rhythm. A number of scenes in Docks are made subtle and wondrous by the direction and choices of what to show; in one, someone is shot but we never see the gun nor “hear” the gun go off, we simply deduce what has happened. The screening I attended had live piano accompaniment by Ben Model, nicely done, occasionally not quite matching the emotion on the screen but definitely more enjoyable than the Wurlitzer organ, which is typically used for silent films and becomes so quickly predictable and tiresome. Try watching one at home with your own choice of (instrumental) music; Bill Evans or Coltrane, quiet in the background.

Visit these great websites for more information on the history and DVD releases of silent films:
http://www.silentera.com/

http://www.csse.monash.edu.au/~pringle/silent/

http://www.cinemaweb.com/silentfilm/bookshelf/

The next night, I raced from work to see Broken Lullaby (The Man I Killed), directed by the great Ernst Lubitsch. I got there just as the film began to unspool, the theater at MOMA amazingly filled for a Monday night screening of a pretty obscure film. Perfect framing, pans, zooms, use of montage: the famous Lubitsch touch. An anti-war film set during and after WWI, notable for the fact that it was released in 1932 and references the “inevitable” next war. I’ll go see anything with Lionel Barrymore, a minor role for him here but always worth watching and studying how he moves, how he inhabits his character. Always believable, always likable. If you haven’t seen Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It With You (1938), it’s really worth a rent; Barrymore at his crustiest and most lovable.

This particular film was a bit slow at times but filled with interesting images. One scene, where shop owners and nosy neighbors peek out of their windows one by one to spy on a young couple walking through their quiet German town is so deftly handled it’s a small lesson in use of the camera for aspiring directors, an amazing tracking shot. Visually a good example of Lubitsch’s impeccable direction if not as enjoyable overall as, say, The Shop Around The Corner (194) or To Be Or Not To Be (1942).

2007-12-15T10:21:00.000-08:00

Ok, just emerged from the dream-state that is Beowolf in IMAX 3D. First thing to keep in mind if you go: sit as far back and in the middle as possible, and bring earplugs. I’m not kidding, that shit gets loud. Unlike other IMAX 3D films I’ve seen, for Beowolf you keep the glasses on the entire time. As I recall with Superman Returns, you put them on and take them off about 5 times, for a grand total of perhaps 20 minutes of 3D. Here, the entire thing is in 3D and I must say, by far the best I’ve seen up this point in time. Almost completely filling your field of vision, it unfolds almost like a dream, and is the closest to the Heavy Metal comics of my youth coming to life that I’ve seen.

Rendered in motion capture previously used for The Polar Express, it unfolds almost like a dream and absolutely carries you along. More than just arrows shooting at the viewer, some of the 3D imagery is simply stunning. Occasionally it’s bit too gory and definitely too loud at times but overall, all things considered, not a bad interpretation. Does the dialogue soar poetically, given that it is derived from an Old English poem? Of course not. Dialogue is serviceable at best and in the context of a film intended to appeal to the widest possible audience, references to “My Lord’s famous meat” are bound to elicit a few giggles. But, Beowolf is shown as the flawed warrior he is and Angelina Jolie makes a fantastic entrance; in fact, I wish there had been more of her as she is stunning presence in this film. If you’re looking for a good fantasy film and to catch up with the latest in animation and 3D, this is very much worth catching in a theater.

Nice article on motion capture on wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Motion_capture

2007-12-15T09:58:00.000-08:00

To all visitors to this site:

I am actively seeking other film fans to contribute their reviews, thoughts and comments on movies of any type to this blog. The further away from New York, where I am located, the better, as my goal is to have contributors from all over the country and, eventually, the world. Please e-mail your entries to: ourspacemovieblog@gmail.com

You will be listed as the author of an entry you contribute. Unless otherwise specified, all entries are written by Michael Fishman. Thanks!

Starting Out In The Evening

2007-12-08T13:20:00.000-08:00

The Paris Theatre. 58th Street and Fifth Avenue. Beautiful place, opened in 1948, the longest continually operating art cinema in the United States. Single screen, balcony, red velvet sofas downstairs. And a true sign of a good theater: I sat in the last row of the balcony, because it was that crowded, and it was fine. Of course, it helped that it was a good movie; when the movie’s that good, you’re just happy to be there and take it in. But seriously, last row in the whole place and I could see and hear just fine.

The movie was Starting Out In The Evening, written by Fred Parnes and directed by Andrew Wagner, shot on High Definition Video and although it shows here and there, because it’s such a great movie (can’t call it film!) it didn’t distract me and was fine. But yes, here and there, the richness was missing. Still…

It takes a special actor to pull off what Frank Langella pulls off in Starting Out In The Evening: believable aging novelist struggling to complete his final work, entering into a brief dalliance with a woman a third his age (Lauren Ambrose) and, after suffering a stroke, starting his last great novel over, from page one. That this is pulled off makes this movie a success and certainly well-worth seeing. Just the fact that it’s a believable portrait of a writer makes it stand-out from most other portraits of writers, which generally fail to get under the surface and beyond the clichés.

I only wish the vastly under-utilized Jessica Hecht had been given a larger part; I have to wonder what she might have done with the role of the writer’s daughter, nearing 40 and aching to have a child, which went to Lili Taylor. Not that Lili Taylor is bad; it’s just that she keeps the performance so close to her that there’s no room to breathe, no room for expansion, no poetry. It’s all so rooted in the moment, her eyes always pleading or narrowing. You can’t say that she’s a bad actress, it just feels like she’s trying too hard at times. But overall, a movie with much to ruminate about afterwards, to mull over (touching on death, the greatest theme of all), and that’s a rare thing these days.

2007-12-01T16:39:00.000-08:00

Wow, what a screening. A public screening of Juno, long line around the block outside the 42nd Street AMC 25 (yes, 25 screens and all big, a huge megaplex). I got in by the skin of my teeth, and they were giving out t-shirts and posters. I was one of the last let in and amazingly, got a good seat. The main thing: finally, a movie to make me believe again. Funny and sweet, good sharp dialogue, and very well-directed. Nothing not to like here, and focused on two serious issues, teenage pregnancy and a woman unable to bear children, which were handled in a funny, enjoyable way, quite a bit better and with a lighter touch than director Jason Retiman did previously in Thank You For Smoking. Great ending, too, with a long, very effective pull-back from medium shot to extreme long shot. Just beautifully done. Great film to see in a theater with an audience, as with any good comedy. It takes on a communal experience. Occasionally threatened to veer into Napoleon Dynamite territory (which I liked but thought over-rated) but the silly humor was held in check. Great job by Ellen Page (Hard Candy, 2005) as the teenager with an unplanned pregnancy who clearly is not ready to be a mother. Jennifer Garner does nice things with her pleading eyes as the desperately wanna-be mother. A film to savor and return to.

Martian Child

2007-11-24T10:15:00.000-08:00

Went to see Martian Child. Why? Good question. Partly because I wanted to see something light, and partly because the film was somewhat misrepresented in its trailer and ads as a comedy-drama/romantic comedy. At best, one could say it’s a dramedy. The romantic aspect is weak and barely developed; an awkward kiss about half-way through, and way before that, the love interest being introduced much too early. So there was no tension and no development. As for the comedy, tiny bits here ands there. Mere crumbs, really. The bowling scene, played up so prominently in the trailers, comes much too late, by which point it was too little too late.

A poorly directed film, with many scenes ending unsatisfactorily and with clear possibilities undeveloped. One amusing scene has John Cusack shopping for the boy and filling a shopping cart with boxes of Lucky Charms, the only food the boy will eat. But when we come to the end of the scene, when one would hope to get a shot of the shopping cart full of boxes of cereal, potentially a memorable image, we get them at the register, Cusack making a weak joke to the cashier: predictable and boring. In another scene, the boy wanders off into the woods and seems to connect oddly with nature, but Cusack is not there to share in what could have been an interesting moment, providing more possible proof the kid really is an alien. In the very next scene, Cusack says to the boy, “Let’s get out of here,” meaning, let’s get outside, but instead of using that to segue into the nature scene that just passed, they go to a barbeque at Cusack’s sisters’ house. Granted, the barbecue scene is important, but I just wish the director, Menno Meyjes, had had it come after an extended nature scene. In other words, the nature scene was, potentially, another wasted opportunity in a film filled with wasted opportunities.

Disappointing. OK as a diversion and generally engaging but weakened by its direction and ultimately not moving. A good movie for a screenwriter to watch, to mull over the missed opportunities and weak scene development.

Lions For Lambs

2007-11-24T10:13:00.000-08:00

Caught Lions for Lambs at a special screening with a Q&A afterwards with David McKenna, Film Division, Columbia University (http://wwwapp.cc.columbia.edu/art/app/arts/film/faculty-bio.jsp?faculty=40) and Anne Nelson, SIPA faculty, Columbia University (http://www.sipa.columbia.edu/academics/directory/an115-fac.html).

I wish this film had been better. It raises some valid issues, particularly the nature of TV news these days, when we often have to ignore the main story/images of Paris Hilton or whoever and try and read the crawl on the bottom of the screen where the real news is often relegated. At 88 minutes, the film goes by quickly; too quickly. It’s just too simplistic in its approach. It touches on a few things, then races to the end. Even structurally it’s very simplistic, cutting between only three major settings and stories, with a fourth story line (potentially the most interesting, ie, the back story of the journalist, played by Meryl Streep, left in the wings and only hinted at). Streep, of course, is always worth watching; Cruise is Cruise but he’s not bad as a villain (see Collateral), although I think he looks too young for this role. Robert Redford was OK in his role, though his direction is not especially inspiring. Andrew Garfield was annoying as the promising student Redford prods to supposed greatness.

Destined for greatness this film obviously isn’t, and that’s too bad, for United Artists and for us, the audience. With this film missing its mark, so too possibly, will the impetus be missing for studios to make similar films.

2007-11-03T10:35:00.000-07:00

2007-11-03T10:29:00.000-07:00

2007-11-03T10:25:00.000-07:00

I guess I’ll just start with Ruggles of Red Gap (major disclosure: I live in New York City so I get to see a boatload of movies, about one a week in any of just a handful of theaters I regularly go to; since where and when you see a movie can be so important, I’ll comment on that, too, and hope you will as well).

Ruggles of Red Gap (1935) directed by the great Leo McCarey (Duck Soup, The Bells of St. Mary’s, An Affair to Remember, not to mention 1927’s The Way of All Pants) was a nice surprise. The only thing I knew about it was that it starred Charles Laughton in one of his earliest roles, at age 36, and that it was one a favorite of my Great Aunt Gertie, who had seen it as a young girl in one of those huge movie palaces of the golden movie era. The film also starred Charles Ruggles, who had a film career lasting more than 60 years, and some great support from Zasu Pitts, but it was Laughton who brought me to the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art, www.moma.org), just as I will drop whatever I’m doing and make a concerted effort to catch anything by Buster Keaton on the big screen. What I love about the MOMA is that they show a great mix of old and contemporary films, the downstairs theater where they generally show the older films is one of the best in the city, and it’s all free on Friday afternoons. If you’re into film and even just visiting New York sometime, it would be worth the effort to check out their web site and see what’s playing. Oh yeah, no food allowed, though. A cookie in a napkin is safe; nice and quiet. But nothing you have to unwrap, and don’t flaunt that bottle of water.

Aside from the great characterizations and sharp dialogue, what ‘s so enjoyable about this film is the direction and cinematography. Lots of wide shots where you see practically the entire actor’s body, and often more than one actor/character in a scene, forcing them all, everyone in the frame, to be in character, to act. Then, when there is the rare close-up, it’s so much more effective than when , as in so many contemporary movies, we’re constantly given only close-ups. You know the style I’m talking about, the constant cutting back and forth between two people having a conversation. Boring. Show me the two people in a medium shot, actually talking to each other, reacting off each other, studying the other while they speak. That’s interesting, that’s real. The close-up is just used way too much as a cop-out, if you ask me.

Which brings me to the next film I caught, Jean Renoir’s The Rules of the Game/La Règle du Jea (1939). This was playing at Film Forum (www.filmforum.org), a well-known venue in NYC for art-house fare and great retrospectives (not to mention great snacks; probably the best popcorn in the city and very passable lemon cake; too bad the theater inside is old, the seats narrow and the sightlines difficult). There’s a lot that can be said about this film, which has Renoir himself in a key role along with Nora Gregor, reportedly Renoir’s mistress. Which meant that the film suffered acting-wise. Renoir himself is likable in a bumbling way, and it’s great to see him on the screen, but he’s not exactly a model of subtlety; Gregor has minimal presence and comes across as cold and not particularly likable. The film, a critique of French society, was booed at its premiere and has a storied past of being banned and resurrected. There are some wonderful moments and it has come to be considered a major classic.

Personally, I prefer other Renoir films such as Boudu Saved From Drowning/Boudu Sauvé des Eaux (1932), A Day in the Country/Partie de Campagne (1936, The Grand Illusion/La Grande Illusion (1937), The Human Beast/La Bête Humaine (1938), and The Diary of a Chambermaid (1946), but what nearly all Renoir films have in common is his exquisite taste, his absolute certainty and mastery of where to place the camera and how to frame his shots, and his great use of master shots (see: http://www.answers.com/topic/master-shot?cat=technology).

For a short article about Rules of the Game, see: http://www.filmforum.org/films/rules.html.

A beginning

2007-10-22T17:17:00.000-07:00

Hey everyone,

Welcome.

Welcome to a new beginning in movie consideration.

Whether it's film, video, animation; the latest blockbuster or a Buster Keaton classic; documentary or experimental, this site is intended for you to add your insights, thoughts, considerations, links, essays, whatever to create the most comprehensive movie review site on the planet. My intention is to have people from all over the country, and eventually, the world, contributing to this blog. Anyone who is interested in contributing, please send your movie reviews to me at: Ourspacemovieblog@gmail.com. You will be credited as the author of your work.

Yeah, it's ambitious, maybe even foolhardy. But I've got some time on my hands. And personally, I often find the comments by people on sites like Fandango and moviefone to be more relevant to my movie-going experience than published, "official" reviews. Not that the published ones aren't often insightful. It's just that I, more often than not, go to movies to have fun. I want to know if I'm going to enjoy the film. And those reviews don't tend to tell me that. What I want is a place to discuss movies, with an emphasis on "is it worth seeking out?" Will I enjoy it? Because to me, a movie has to first be enjoyable, then meaningful. Hook me with some comedy, then hit me with the moment of drama that will set me back, pull me up, and send me out of the theater having just experienced something. That to me is what it's really all about. Not that I'll only go see movies that have laughs in them. But even Faulkner, to move to serious litera-chure for a sec, isn't a drag to read. He's rich, deep, winding, tangled, but playful and winking, too.

But I fear I've gone out on the limb too far. Let me pull it back, and let's get this thang started.