(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).
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