Cucalorus Dispatch #5: Rissi Palmer: Still Here, Riddle of Fire, and She Is Conann

RISSI PALMER: STILL HERE
(Dilsey Davis, USA, 44 minutes) 

At the second and final festival screening of Still Here, Durham, NC director Dilsey Davis explained that PBS's American Masters, which produced her directorial debut, stipulated a cut of less than one hour, and so she complied, though it wasn't easy. To Dilsey's credit, her profile of the Nashville country singer, the first Black woman to land a song on the country charts since 1987, feels pretty comprehensive, though I still wish it was more fleshed-out (and she didn't say anything about the availability of a longer cut). 

Aside from Dilsey's look at her subject's rise from a frustrated pop singer to a fully-actualized country artist, mother, and television host, the profile shows how emerging artists from marginalized communities can benefit when someone of Rissi's stature uses her platform for their benefit. 

Charly Lowry, a Pembroke, NC-based artist from the Lumbee/Tuscarora tribes, was at the screening, and performed a couple of songs from her upcoming full-length debut (she's also a University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill graduate). Charly has a strong, resonant voice, and one of the songs was so catchy, I found myself humming it while walking out of the theater. Definitely an artist to keep an eye on as she makes more waves in 2024. Dilsey is now working on a documentary about Charly. I hope, for the sake of both women, that she'll be granted a longer run time. 

RIDDLE OF FIRE
(Weston Razooli, USA, 113 minutes) 

I've never seen a film exactly like Weston Razooli's Riddle of Fire, a hit at Cannes and Fantastic Fest, which takes place in Wyoming, but looks more like Romania. That's because Razooli appears to be well versed in the fantasy films or fantastique of the 1960s and '70s, like Barbarella or John Boorman's Zardoz, even if his film is devoid of crazy, sexy costumes. 

Unlike Riddle of Fire, those very adult films never revolved around kids. Other than some choice profanity, it would make for a great family film. I would've loved it if I had been able to see such a thing when I was a little one, though it's more likely to target and attract the art house crowd. 

There's plenty of action, most involving paint guns and off-the-wall humor. There's even a little magic. I couldn't always understand what Jodie (the unbelievably cute Skyler Peters), the youngest of the four adventurerers, was saying, but his rubbery gestures and appealingly squeaky voice made me laugh more often than not. Charlie Stover, Phoebe Ferro, and Lorelei Olivia Mote as his brave companions were equally effective. 

Their quest: to find a speckled egg for the purposes of Jodie and Hazel's mom, who will only share the TV password they need to use the video game console they boosted if they bring her a blueberry pie made according to a very specific recipe while she's in bed with a cold. 

That's the gist of the plot, but Razooli (who also plays a part) squeezes maximum inventiveness out of it. There are also witches, freak folk twins, a hazy color palette that lends everything a lysergic glow--he shot on 16mm as in the fantastical days of yore--and the kind of Celtic-style lettering for the credits and inter-titles that adds vintage flare to a film otherwise set in the present. I heard a rumor, from a knowledgeable source, that Razooli's debut may be coming to Seattle at some point, and I hope it's true.  

SHE IS CONANN
(Bertrand Mandico, Belgium/France/Luxembourg, 104 minutes) 

I reviewed French fantastique filmmaker Bertrand Mandico's After Blue (Dirty Paradise) for Video Librarian last year (I haven't seen his directorial debut, The Wild Boys). Mandico has his own, idosyncratic thing going on, and it's easy to admire, but not as easy to like--at least not for me. 

In their outlines, his narratives make a kind of sense, but dialogue is frequently inscrutable. 

Unlike After Blue, She Is Conann--his queer, gender-bending take on Robert E. Howard's Conan--features an entire B&W sequence in English, and it's one of my favorites. Conann, a female-presenting character, is played by older actors in each sequence as she ages. 

In the English-language section, the 35-year-old Conann is played by a bald, striking Black woman (Lupin's Sandra Parfait) with silvery, new wave-style face makeup and records strewn across her floor from the likes of Can (Tago Mago) and Klaus Nomi (his self-titled debut). 

Not a lot happens in this sequence, but Mandico amps up the somnolent pace to welcome effect. Another, livelier highlight: the sequence in which Conann asks a gathering of cash-strapped artists to literally eat her body in its entirety. If they do so, she'll ensure they have the funding they need. They're thoroughly disgusted, but except for one woman, they all dig in.  

Mandico's performers, like the ever-fearless Elina Löwensohn (Nadya, Amateur) are always game, but the acting is variable at best, which can make it hard to care about any of the characters. The lovely Ms. Löwensohn spends the entire film behind a thick, prosthetic dog mask as a sort of ageless trickster figure named Rainer who wears a black leather jacket with their name emblazoned in rhinestones on the back, much as in Kenneth Anger's Scorpio Rising. The name also surely serves as a reference to Mandico inspiration Rainer Werner Fassbinder, who created fully-formed, insular worlds out of whatever the fuck he could get his hands on.

At times, I drifted off, ever so briefly, during the film. It didn't really matter, and I felt zero guilt. As programmer Aaron Hillis advised in his introduction, if you aren't sure what's going on, just relax and let it wash over you. 

Though I wish Mandico was a more scrutable storyteller, I can't imagine taking a pass at the chance to see one of this films on the big screen, because there's nothing quite like them in terms of practical effects, and we need more of that in our CGI-dominated cinematic landscape.  

There are no more screenings of any of these films,but Altered Innocence will be releasing Conann theatrically in 2024. Images from Rissi Palmer's official website, Screen Anarchy (Riddle of Fire's pint-sized cast), Movie Insider (Andrea and Rachel Browne), Brooklyn Horror Fest (Nathalie Richard as Conann at 55), and The Movie Isle (Elina Löwensohn and pals).

Cucalorus Dispatch #4 Revolves Around Movies About Movies: SCALA!!! and Kim's Video

SCALA!!!
(Ali Catterall and Jane Giles, UK, 2023, 96 minutes)

It's unlikely I'll see a better documentary this year than Ali Catterall and Jane Giles's SCALA!!! (love those three exclamation points), an artful, no-holds-barred look at the celebrated London movie palace that existed under various names and permutations for hundreds of years. Against all odds: it's still standing.

Giles, a former programmer was at the screening with former theater worker Vic Roberts--who now lives in Wilmington--had previously compiled a large-format Scala Cinema Book for FAB Press, so she was well positioned to segue to a documentary about a subject she loves dearly.  

Through present-day interviews, archival footage, and an abundance of fair-use film clips, Catterall and Giles recount the history of the place, including the first UK appearances from proto-punk legends Lou Reed and Iggy and the Stooges, while concentrating specifically on the years 1978-1993 (a plaque now commemorates the historic 1972 concerts). 

During that time, Scala was as much of a haunt for aspiring filmmakers, like Isaac Julien and Mary Harron, as musicians, like Douglas Hart (Jesus and Mary Chain) and Barry Adamson (Magazine, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds), who composed the finger-snapping, Elmer Bernstein-inspired score (at the screening, Jane noted that it will be coming out in some form, possibly on Mute Records). Editor and producer Andrew Starke also deserves credit for marshaling the material in such a clever, fast-moving manner.

SCALA!! is currently making the festival rounds while Catterall and Giles work out the distribution situation. To judge by the reaction of the capacity crowd at Jengo's Playhouse, the documentary will be making a lot more enthusiastic fans in the future, and maybe it will even inspire more theater owners, like the fine folks at Seattle's Beacon Cinema, to throw caution to the wind when it comes to film (and other kinds of) programming.

KIM'S VIDEO
(David Redmond and Ashley Sabin, USA, 2023, 85 minutes)

Unlike some of the other documentaries I've seen at Cucalorus, especially Georden West's beautifully burnished Playland, Kim's Video is not a pretty film, but as much as I love a handsomely-shot or creatively-constructed work of non-fiction, a case can be made for those films in which the storytelling--and the sheer fearlessness it takes to tell the story--reigns above all. That film is David Redmond and Ashley Sabin's Kim's Video.

I would imagine that these experienced documentarians (Intimidad, Girl Model) didn't have the budget for a cinematographer, because aside from co-directing, David--who has a very pleasant voice--narrated and shot the film. 

I couldn't say what kind of camera he used, but the images have  a consumer-grade look, like the camera work in The Blair Witch Project or Ti West's Trigger Man, after which Ti turned to professional DPs. For what its worth, the imagery isn't as wobbly as either of those films. 

It's also possible that the filmmakers simply wanted to be as nimble as possible, since David had to travel from New York, where Youngman Kim once owned several popular video stores, to New Jersey and South Korea, where he maintains homes, and remote Salemi, Sicily, where the entire collection ended up after Kim's went out of business (Karina Longworth previously recounted the labyrinthian journey for LA Weekly in 2012).

So, the storytelling is the thing, and David is relentless in trying to establish the links between "Centro Kim," as the collection was known in Salemi, and the various mobsters and politicians who took it up as a cause, while also ensuring that nothing was ever digitized and that the thousands of films, in whatever form, were never properly shielded from the elements or made available to the public as promised.

There's a happy ending, and David helped to make it happen. When a filmmaker inserts themselves into a story, bad things can happen, but just as Jane Giles's passion fueled the Scala book and documentary, David Redmond's passion for Kim's Video inspired him to go above and beyond mere image-making. Maybe someday he and Ashley will again make a film that looks better than this one, but their storytelling is hard to beat.  

There are no more screenings of SCALA!!! or Kim's Video. Images: Alan Delaney / Screen Daily (Scala), Mick Rock / Happy Mag (David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Iggy Pop), James and Karla Murray Photography (Kim's Video), and The New York Post (Youngman Kim in one of his stores).  

Cucalorus Dispatch #3: With Love and a Major Organ, Playland, Summer Solstice, and RATS!

WITH LOVE AND A MAJOR ORGAN
(Kim Albright, 2023, Canada, 92 minutes)  

British-Canadian filmmaker Kim Albright's feature-length debut, With Love and a Major Organ, takes a metaphorical expression, and makes it literal. According to Psychology Today, giving your heart to another person "manifests profound love."

What if instead of doing so in the conventional way, you could rip it out of your chest and hand it over to them, still beating? Chances are, you'd be dead before you completed your grim task, but what sounds like a horror-movie premise powers a non-gory film that plays more like an office comedy or a rom-com where everything is slightly skewed. It's funny, but in a deadpan, absurdist way. It doesn't hurt that Anna Maguire as Anabel and Hamza Haq as George are charming as the potential couple.

PLAYLAND
(Georden West, 2023, USA, 72 minutes)  

Of all the hybrid documentaries I've ever seen, Georden West's Playland, which screened at Seattle's TRANSlations Film Festival earlier this year, is possibly the most beautiful. West looks back, in a theatrical manner, at a refuge for Boston's queer community that existed between 1937-1998, and cinematographer Jo Jo Yam bathes every sequence in a golden glow. 

The actors, who represent workers, performers, and customers from different eras enact out scenarios that provide a glimpse into the lively atmosphere that once swirled around this space, bolstered by intricately-detailed production design, beaded and feathered costumes, an eerie electronic score, and a combination of pop songs and classical pieces (the primary actor/performers, who are all quite effective, include Pose's Danielle Cooper, Aidan Dick, and drag star The Lady Bunny). Look closely, and you'll spot a swan, or a reference to a swan, in most every sequence. 

Audience members looking for facts and figures will leave disappointed, as several Letterboxd reviews attest, but there's no rule that a documentary has to have an overtly literal-minded narrative--though this one incorporates audio interviews and newsreel footage at crucial moments--when a filmmaker would prefer to conjure up something impressionistic. 

Anyone interested in queer history, in addition to the work of David Lynch and the ghostly filmography of Roy Andersson will find much to enjoy.  

SUMMER SOLSTICE
(Noah Schamus, 2023, USA, 81 minutes)  

A sweet, overly passive trans actor spends a weekend in the country with a cisgender college friend that tests their relationship in Noah Schamus's touching feature. After the screening Schamus, accompanied by editor Christopher McKee, acknowledged that some details were inspired by personal experience, and I would believe it, because they ring true. Whether trans or not, we've all befriended or at least met that person--usually a woman--who is always impatient, emotional, and dramatic. 

Leo (Adam's Bobbi Salvör Menuez) has to figure out whether it's worthwhile to have Eleanor (Marianne Rendón, Mary Harron's Charlie Says) in his life, not least when he felt like he was just her hanger-on in college. The two actors are exceptional in their very different roles. 

RATS!
(Maxwell Nalevansky and Carl Fry, 2023, USA, 83 minutes)

I may have seen Carl Fry and Maxwell Nalevansky's RATS! at 10pm, but this wild, over-the-top stoner comedy is the quintessential midnight movie (near as I can tell, Fry is based in Austin and Nalevansky is based in Brooklyn). The co-directors along with a number of their high-spirited cast and crew were in attendance, so it was a boisterous screening. Plus, "Convulsions" programmer/emcee Aaron Hillis was dressed as a giant rat.

The story revolves around graffiti artist Raphael (newcomer Luke Wilcox) who gets in over his head with a crazy cop (an unhinged Danielle Evon Ploeger) and other Pfresno, TX eccentrics. The action moves fast and furious, and gets very, very bloody towards the end. It absolutely won't be to all tastes, but the actors are so good, I'm certain we'll see several of them again, and I hope we do. 

Wilcox and Khali Sykes as Bernadette, a goth-punk woman he meets while doing community service, are great together, have obvious star quality, and are very easy on the eyes, if you're into that kind of thing (Darius Autry is also hilarious as Mateo, their partner-in-petty crime). In person, the actors are just as attractive and charismatic as they are on screen. Nalevansky and Fry wisely have them keep things grounded in reality, which only make the craziness that surrounds them seem all the crazier.  

Playland screens again on Sat, Nov 18, 4:30pm at Thalian Black and Summer Solstice screens again on Sun, Nov 19, 1:15pm at Thalian Main. Click here or more details. There are no more screenings of With Love and a Major Organ and RATS! Images from Film Inquiry (Anna Maguire), IFFR / Variety (Playland), MUBI (Bobbi Salvör Menuez and Marianne Rendón), and Cucalorus Film Festival (Luke Wilcox and Khali Sykes). 

Cucalorus Dispatch #2: A Son Investigates His Father's Complicated Past in For Nick, From Dad

FOR NICK, FROM DAD
(Nick Damore, 2023, USA, 42 minutes)

Nick Damore's first-person documentary takes on a lot in 42 minutes, but not more than it can bear. 

In his directorial debut, Nick recounts a childhood spent with the father he never really knew, investigative journalist and longtime Cape Cod resident Leo J. Damore (Senatorial Privilege). Leo, 66 at the time, took his life when Nick was 10 years old. 

The film begins with audio from a cassette recording in which Leo explains how much Nick means to him, so the love wasn't in doubt, except his father was obsessed with writing. Beyond the books of fiction and non-fiction, he was a compulsive diarist who left scores of journals behind. 

Plenty of writers take an obsessive approach to their craft, but Leo did so at the expense of his second family--and possibly his first (Nick has a stepbrother and sister). He was also looking into to the kinds of cover-ups, like Chappaquiddick, that unsettle powerful people and organizations, like the Kennedy clan and the CIA, so some associates suspect foul play in the way he went off the deep end toward the end of life. He was also keeping a major secret that Nick didn't discover until well after Leo's death.  

Nick is now working on a book about his father. The director attended the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, and the creative non-fiction professor who sent him down this path--possibly Clyde Edgerton, but I'm not 100% certain--was at the screening. I spoke to both, briefly, afterward. It's so great to see professor-student relationships lead to such substantial and presumably cathartic work in the years after college. I can only imagine how much a creative kid, who lost his father at such an early age, could have really used a mentor to help him channel his frustration in a focused manner. 

When Nick was younger, he really didn't want to deal with his father's suicide or the unfortunate events that led up to it, but as he told People magazine in 2022, "When someone takes their life, they may think they are releasing their family from a burden but they fail to see they are also shackling them. It leaves things so unresolved that it leaves a chasm. So these projects are my attempt at feeling whole and hoping to understand things better. It's when we don't address what happened that it lingers."

I know what he means. I never experienced the suicide of a parent, but my mom did. Though she was an adult when it happened, her father's disappearance after her parents' divorce, combined with his self-inflicted death in the 1970s, left her family with a mystery that will never be solved; unlike Leo Damore, my grandfather, who also started a second family, didn't leave any clues, like journals or research materials.    

Since the elder Damore's passing in 1995, his best known book, 1989 bestseller Senatorial Privilege, has been re-titled Chappaquiddick Power, Privilege, and the Ted Kennedy Cover-Up. Nick claims that John Curran's 2017 docudrama Chappaquiddick, in which Jason Clarke plays Ted Kennedy and Kate Mara plays Mary Jo Kopechne, was inspired by Leo's book--and the cover copy backs him up--but he received no mention in the credits. Considering that it's the definitive statement on the subject, that does seem unfortunate.

Due to the unusual length of For Nick, I'm not sure where it will turn up next--possibly PBS or The Criterion Channel--but  it screened with a short, Thomas Corriveau's painterly Marie. Eduardo. Sophie., and followed a performance by Portland-by-way-of-Wilmington musician and filmmaker Leigh Jones, aka Eugenia Riot, who sang John Lennon's "Beautiful Boy" that brought a tear to my eye. She said that Cucalorus founder Dan Brawley had told her to sing whatever she wanted; considering Lennon's lyrics about the future he envisioned for his son, Sean--but never got to experience--she couldn't have chosen a more touchingly apt song.

For Nick, From Dad plays again on Sun, Nov 19, 1:30pm at Thalian Black. Click here for more information. Eugenia Riot's short, "Wild Dream," plays Fri, Nov 17, 10:30am at Thalian Black and Sun, Nov 19, at 4:15pm at Thalian Main. Images: Nick Damone / People (father and son), the cassette (the film's Instagram), the book cover (Amazon), and Nick and his son (Nick Damone / GoFundMe).