Monday, June 5, 2006

In a Word: Midyear 2006 Cinema Rating

Been transcribing an interview, so haven't had much time to write anything up lately, but I thought I'd give my quick impression of the films I've seen so far, using the following rating sytem:

Great
Pretty Good
Good
Okay
Sucked

Clear Cut: The Story of Philomath Oregon Good
Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple Good
Another Gay Movie Sucked
Gravehopping Good
King Lepold's Ghost Okay
The Chances of The World Changing Pretty Good
Suicidals Sucked
Al Franken: God Spoke Okay
Ski Jumping Pairs Sucked
Puffy Chair Sucked
The Death of Mr. Lazarescu Great
Container Okay
Case of The Grinning Cat Okay
The Proposition Great
The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes Sucked
Lunacy Good
Dear Pyongyang Okay
What Are You Going to Do When You Get Out of Here? Okay
Jack Smith and The Destruction of Atlantis Great
A Darkness Swallowed Okay
C.R.A.Z.Y. Pretty Good
Princess Raccoon Pretty Good
Frostbite Good
Wristcutters: A Love Story Okay
The Days Good
Destricted The Larry Clark piece was great, the Marina Abramovic piece was pretty good, the Marco Brambilla piece was pretty good, the Matthew Barney Piece was okay, The Richard Prince piece was okay, the Sam Taylor-Wood piece was okay, the Gaspar Noe piece sucked.
20 Centimeters Okay
In addition I saw the following short films, all of which were great:
Diesel Engine
A Half Man
Chronicles of A Professional Eulogist

If I have time I'll do a write-up of Destricted.

Image of The Death of Mister Lazarescu from Google Play.

Eight is Enough in Brazil's Me You Them

ME YOU THEM / Eu Tu Eles
(Andrucha Waddington, 2000, Brazil, 104 mins)

This is a lightly revised version of a review originally written when the film was first released on home video. 

Me You Them (Eu Tu Eles in Portuguese) may sound hokey, but it feels authentic thanks to a non-judgmental screenplay, naturalistic acting, and Emerging Master Andrucha Waddington's patient direction. Little surprise then that this tale of a woman who ends up with three husbands and four sons--each by a different father--is based on a true story. 

Darlene (Regina Casé, Moon Over Parador) has already had a child out of wedlock when she meets middle-aged homeowner Osias (Lima Duarte), who offers to marry her. Her mother has just passed away, and she has nowhere to go, so she agrees. Unfortunately, he turns out to be Brazil's laziest human being. Darlene does all the work, and has none of the fun...until she meets his sweet cousin, Zezinho (Stênio Garcia), who moves in with them. Then she meets the handsome Ciro (Luiz Carlos Vasconcelos).

Waddington doesn't play any of this for laughs. There are moments of gentle humor, but Me You Them, which won the Un Certain Regard Award at Cannes and several Brazilian Academy Awards, including Best Picture, is a serious-minded film that always treats its characters with respect. 

If it had been made in the States, it's hard to imagine the concept would work as well--if at all--but here the polyandrous arrangement is neither idealized nor demonized. 

Waddington simply shows how this unconventional family came into being. Brazilian legend Gilberto Gil, of Getz/Gilberto fame, the recording that introduced the bossa nova to the world, provides the lovely score.

Pacific Place: 6/17 at 11am.

Mais Brasilia:
Black Orpheus (Marcel Camus, 1959) plays the Neptune on June 6 at 7:15pm, Lower City (Sergio Machado) plays the Harvard Exit on June 8 at 9pm and June 13 at 4pm, and House of Sand (Waddington's latest) plays Pacific Place on June 16 at 7pm and June 17 at 1:15pm. Also, Seu Jorge (City of God, The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, House of Sand) plays Neumo's on June 22. That's the favela king above, with cat. See you there!

Images from the IMDb (Regina Casé, Lima Duarte, Stênio Garcia, and Luiz Carlos Vasconcelos) and Apple Music (Seu Jorge's 2002 debut Carolina).

Sunday, June 4, 2006

The Not-So-Crazy Teens of Jean-Marc Vallée's C.R.A.Z.Y. and Wash Westmoreland and Richard Glatzer's Quinceañera

C.R.A.Z.Y.
(Jean-Marc Vallée, Canada, 2005, 129 minutes)


I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions have an echo
And so much space.

--Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy"

Funny, moving, and highly tuneful, C.R.A.Z.Y. trumps most gay coming-of-age films. 

Montreal writer/director Jean-Marc Vallée pulls off the feat simply by painting an indelible portrait of an entire family, particularly the relationship between a stern father and his free-spirited son, and not just the efforts by the latter to define his sexuality. He also sidesteps--or at least subverts--many of the clichés that have hampered the genre. 

It's worth watching for the sequence in the Catholic Church alone, in which Zachary (Marc-Andre Grondin)--the "Z" in C.R.A.Z.Y.--imagines the entire congregation singing along to "Sympathy for the Devil." Totally transcendent. In the end, it's their shared love for music that helps the David Bowie-loving Zac and Patsy Cline-worshipping Gervais (the fantastic Michel Côté) weather the storm that is their turbulent family life from 1960 to 1980. It was one of my favorite films of the 2006 festival.

Here's a list of the songs featured in C.R.A.Z.Y.: Patsy Cline - "Back in Baby's Arms," "I Fall to Pieces," and "Crazy," Charles Aznavour (and Michel Côté) - "Emmenez-moi" and "Hier Encore," Stories - "Brother Louie," Perez Prez Prado, King of Mambo - "Mambo Jambo," Pink Floyd - "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" and "The Great Gig In The Sky," David Bowie (and Marc-Andre Grondin) - "Space Oddity," the Rolling Stones - "Sympathy for the Devil," Roy Buchanan - "The Messiah Will Come Again," Jefferson Airplane - "White Rabbit," Timmy Thomas - "Why Can't We Live Together," Robert Charlebois - "Tout Ecartille," Elvis Presley - "Santa Claus Is Back in Town," Petits Chanteurs du Mont-Royal - "Minuit Chretien," "Carol of the Bells, and "Del Elisir Mirabile / Elisir D'Amore," and Chorovaya Akademia / Alexander Sedov - "Nine Sili Nebesniye / Ancient Echoes."

Egyptian: 6/16 at 9pm and 6/18 at 1:15pm.

QUINCEAÑERA
(Wash Westmoreland and Richard Glatzer, USA, 2006, 90 minutes)

The Year of Peckinpah--Tommy Lee Jones's The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada, John Hillcoat's The Proposition, etc.--continues with this Sundance Grand Jury Prize winner. Granted, Quinceañera may not look like one of Sam's films, but it features one of his favorite actor/crew members, Chalo González (The Wild Bunch, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia), as beneficent octogenerian Tio Tomas. The longtime Echo Park dweller takes in 14-year-old Magdalena (Emily Rios) when she becomes pregnant and her part-time preacher father refuses to have anything to do with her. 

Together, Tio, Magdalena, and gay cholo cousin Carlos (Jesse Garcia) start to form a family when tragedy strikes again...and yet again. Still, the codirectors manage to pull a happy--or at least hopeful--ending out of their collective hat. They also gave me the opportunity to have a good cry. Though produced by Safe's Todd Haynes, Quinceañera plays more like a film by Our Song's Jim McKay set to a reggaeton beat. Recommended.

Egyptian: 6/16 at 6:30pm and 6/18 at 4:30pm. Directors in attendance.

Friday, June 2, 2006

Conversations With Myself: We Go Way Back

We Go Way Back
(Lynn Shelton, 2006, USA, 80 minutes)


It must be something in the air. 

First, there was 2004 romantic comedy 13 Going on 30 with Jennifer Garner and Christa B. Allen. Then a few weeks ago, pop star Pink released I'm Not Dead, featuring "Conversations With My 13 Year Old Self." A case could also be made for the 2003 Freaky Friday remake with Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan. When the two switch places, the middle-aged mom remembers what it's like to be a teenager, while the daughter finds out what it's like to be an adult. Empathy ensues.

Now in this local feature, writer/director Lynn Shelton posits a situation in which the "13-year-old self" (Maggie Brown) of 23-year-old Kate (the appealing Amber Hubert) goes from being a distant memory to a living, breathing presence. Whether fans of mainstream entertainments, like any of the above, will take to it with the same degree of enthusiasm, I couldn't say--though it would be cool if they did. What interests me more is that these female artists are all tackling the same basic idea, but in different ways.

As We Go Way Back begins, Kate has broken up with her boyfriend and is wandering from tryst to tryst, but not connecting with anyone. Most of her attentions are concentrated on the play she's working on, Ibsen's Hedda Gabler (just as Shelton did in actual fact). The production gets increasingly convoluted as rehearsals continue, resulting in funny scenes sure to feel familiar to anyone who's ever worked in the theater--even dilettantes like myself, who were only involved with the occasional high school production.

This confluence of events--the breakup, the play, her 23rd birthday--is pulling Kate back to the past and she keeps reading through the letters she wrote to her older self at 13. Her current life isn't a bad one (dig that cozy Ballard bachelorette pad), but the confidence she once felt has dimmed over the
years. As these encouraging words from her younger, more assured self continue to invade her consciousness, she starts to dream about the person she used to be until one day, that person materializes in the flesh.

Kate is freaked out, to say the least. At first, she tries to distance herself from this small, persistent person, but something keeps drawing her back. "Little Kate," after all, means her no harm; she just wants the best for her older self. At this point, a couple of other movies came to mind: Nicolas Roeg's 1973 Don't Look Now and Jonathan Glazer's 2004 Birth.

There is, of course, a difference between seeing someone who isn't there, as in Ron Howard's 2001 A Beautiful Mind, and seeing someone who is--but isn't what they appear to be. In the Roeg film, Donald Sutherland keeps seeing his dead daughter wandering around the canals of Venice. At the end, he catches up with her. Bad move! In the Glazer film, 10-year-old Sean (Cameron Bright) convinces Nicole Kidman he's her late husband, Joseph. Sean's a real boy, but is he really her husband? And if so, how can that be?

In the production notes, Shelton explains the thinking behind her central conceit:

Feeling a little lost, she [the woman in her 20s] seeks direction from those around her and expends enormous amounts of energy fulfilling the needs of everyone but herself--particularly men... What breaks my heart about it is that it was not a lack self-direction and self-respect but rather a loss. At 13, I possessed a clarity of vision and a degree of self-confidence that I marvel at today. Somehow, the experience of adolescence stole it all away and it took me years--decades, really--to get it back again.

Like Roeg and Glazer, who are exploring the delusional ways some adults deal with loss, Shelton finds a unique way to bring this idea to life and her touch is never heavy-handed. That said, if you let yourself get hung up on the idea that this kid actually exists, her film isn't for you--in which case, you might also want to avoid the cinema of Federico Fellini, Luis Buñuel, and Claire Denis. I should add that Variety's Dennis Harvey described it as "vague" and "weightless," leading me to believe that women will find the film more substantial than men, but I would love to be proven wrong.

While We Go Way Back is lighter than Don't Look Now or Birth, it too discourages passive viewing, and as much as I enjoyed Freaky Friday, the movie did all the heavy-lifting for me. In that sense, I was reminded of Kelly Reichardt's recent Old Joy, which also takes place in the Pacific Northwest and revolves around a couple of thirtysomethings revisiting a friendship that will never be what it once was. The two would make for a nifty double bill.

Although I wouldn't say I saw myself in Kate, she felt as real to me as the scruffy characters in Reichardt's sophomore feature, and I was moved by her dilemma. I mean, what would you do if confronted by your younger self? (Or the older, creepier version of someone who used to a big part of your life?) Heck, I would want to run away, too. Shelton's point is that some degree of confrontation or reconciliation is necessary to move forward. We Go Way Back features a score from Laura Viers and songs by the Decemberists, the Lights, and other local favorites. I love this film.



We Go Way Back plays the Egyptian on June 13 at 9:30pm and June 17 at 1:30pm. Director scheduled to attend both screenings. Images from The New York Times (Maggie Brown and Amber Hubert), Rotten Tomatoes (Brown), and Mastering Modernity (Hedda Gabler).

Monday, May 29, 2006

On Giovanni Pastrone’s Extraordinary Cabiria

MetaFilter user matteo chooses to highlight Cabiria, a silent film historical epic from Italy.



Image from the IMDb (Lidia Quaranta in Cabiria / 1914).



All Kinds of Folks in Murray Lerner's Festival

FESTIVAL
(Murray Lerner, USA, 1967, BetaSP, 95 mins.)


Well, all you ladies gather around.
The good sweet candy man's in town.
It's the candy man, candy man.

-- Mississippi John Hurt (1963)


***** ***** *****

Festival is a welcome reminder about the breadth and depth of folk. Since the genre has been around for so long--seemingly forever--and shows no signs of stopping--from the polished folk-pop of Jewel to the freak-folk of Devendra Banhart and friends--it's easy to take for granted. It's just as easy to forget that folk isn't a singular look or sound, and that there was a time when it captured the popular imagination the way rock would in the 1970s.

There are glimpses of the decade to come in this B&W film, which captures the Newport Folk Festival, circa 1963-66: in Paul Butterfield's rocked-up blues, in the newly-electrified Dylan, and mostly in Howlin' Wolf, kicking up a sweaty ruckus in a way that would have a profound effect on an upcoming generation of British rockers--especially Led Zeppelin. Then there's his hyped-up growl of a voice. Slight exaggeration, perhaps, but I can't imagine Captain Beefheart or Tom Waits without it (though Wolf reigns supreme). 

[image]


But Festival isn't just about the big names. It's also a glimpse at the smaller, more eccentric ones, like Cousin Emmy and Almeda Riddle, as well as the thousands of fans who made the Rhode Island gathering a major cultural event in the 1960s, leading up to Monterey Pop and Woodstock later in the decade, and numerous festivals in the present, like Lollapalooza and Coachella, the latter of which will have its own film screened as part of the "Music Festivals on Film" series (see below).

Both stylistically and chronologically, Lerner's Oscar-nominated documentary lies somewhere between Jazz on a Summer's Day (1960) and Wattstax (1973). That means musical performances combined with artist interviews (Mel Lyman, Joan Baez, etc.) and commentary from the crowd. There's even an act who appears in two of the films: The Staple Singers. There may be others, but it was the Staples who caught my attention as they were more of a gospel act in Festival. By the time of the Mel Stuart film, they had completely--and gloriously--funkified their sound.

[image]

I've mentioned few of the folk acts most closely associated with the era. Rest assured they're there. In terms of screen time, Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary, and Dylan (both before and after he plugged in), get plenty of it. It's just that I was most looking forward to the bluesmen, like Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee and Mississippis Fred McDowell and John Hurt--and yes, that marks the third time I've typed the words "John Hurt" in the past two weeks. What the hell, he deserves it (both Johns, that is). All deliver, especially the latter with an entrancing "Candyman."

On the down side, Johnny Cash's iconic "I Walk the Line" isn't shown in its entirety and that was a disappointment (it isn't the only such instance). Cash has never looked happier, and I totally dug it. I was also amused to note that he was chewing gum. It reminded me of the Jam's appearance on the recently released DVD The Tomorrow Show With Tom Snyder: Punk & New Wave. Between verses of "Pretty Green," Paul Weller smacks away on his gum. It's still a great performance.

Also, the way Lerner (Jimi Hendrix at the Isle of Wight) cuts between the casually dressed Mike Bloomfield and sartorial splendid Son House is irritating at first, i.e. young, old, white, black, plain, fancy, etc. At the same time, it's kind of cool, because Bloomfield ends up giving one of the funniest interviews in the film. Frankly, I was a little shocked when he let it slip that his dad's a multi-millionaire (and that he had a rockin' bar mitzvah). It wasn't hip to cop to that kind of thing back then--better to pretend to be working class. Still, Bloomfield admits that House is blues in a way he'll never be, but that smokin' harmonic player Paul Butterfield comes close.

Festival ends with a group sing-a-long led by Pete Seeger, providing another link with the present as Bruce Springsteen just released We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions. The fact that Seeger is still kicking in his 80s makes the timing all the sweeter. (Too bad Woody Guthrie didn't live to see Wilco and Billy Bragg introduce him to a new audience via Mermaid Avenue.) Not only is it the best thing the Boss has done in years, but Seeger's songs are more relevant now than ever--yet more proof that folk lives on in all kinds of ways and in all kinds of people.



Festival plays the Northwest Film Forum 6/5-8, Mon-Thurs at 7 and 9pm. They'll also be screening The T.A.M.I. Show (the Rolling Stones, James Brown, etc.) 6/2-4, Fri-Sun, at 7 and 9pm and Coachella (Radiohead, Arcade Fire, etc.) 6/9-15, Fri-Thurs, at 7 and 9:30-pm. The NWFF is located at 1515 12th Ave. between Pike and Pine. For more information, please click here or call 206-267-5380 for show times. Image from Vague Visages.  

Friday, May 26, 2006

SIFF 2006: Oh, Opening Night Party, How You Love AND Hate Me...

Shh, Seattle Film Blog. Be quieter, please.

I'm still nursing a headache from the Opening Night Party last night. The culprit? Champagne. I know that when I drink it, it will give me a headache, yet I did it anyway because, well, in all honesty, the line for the champagne bar was much, much shorter than the line for the Bombay Sapphire bar. Eventually we got there ,of course. I thought it was cute that they tried to have themed drinks -- I say try, because I think most people would have been happier if they'd just handed out bottles of gin to sip out of.

My friend and I arrived just shortly after the movie got out, so we (barely) avoided the cattle call up the steps and inside. Assuring her we just needed to act like we knew what we were doing, we headed straight to VIP. Thisclose to being let in -- I mean it, the dude was getting wristbands ready to put on us -- our attempt was foiled by a woman who told us "UH, NO PRESS in the VIP area!". Of course, this was a lie. Clearly, she just didn't like us. But oh well! Who needs to be in the cramped little VIP room anyway, when we can wander around upstairs with everyone else?

And whoa. EVERYONE else is right. It was packed! We avoided the stairs by taking the elevator (it is amazing that no one else seems to know that is there!). Of course, by the time we got up there, the lines were ridiculous. The only food I actually got to sample was some Ezell's chicken, which I already know is tasty. But really, eating a fried chicken leg, potato salad, and biscuit while fancily dressed with a side of mimosa is the height of hip. Dead sexy, for sure.

I didn't see any celebs, but I wasn't really looking -- however, I couldn't find anyone else I knew either. My friend Eric happened to run smack into me, but that was about it. Oh! I did see Miss Tara Morgan, and she looked fabulous! She scurried off before I had a chance to tell her that, though.

And -- I bow down to the power of alcohol. When we first arrived, everyone was looking stiff and bored, and the only people on the dance floor were some kids who looked to be around 12. An hour and many gin & tonics later, the floor was filled with adults shakin' it, dirty dancing, and in some cases, even stripping. No, that wasn't me. I was too busy drunk-texting a cute boy and sending him photos of my cleavage.

Say what you will about the DJ--but I loved her. She played all the stuff I like to dance to, and so, I did. I am shameless after I hit an open bar five times.

So all in all, a success (for me, at least). I came, I saw, I drank, I danced, I took seriously pixilated camera photos, and I arrived home via cab at 12:30am to promptly pass out, awakening at 7:30am to crawl to work with the worst headache I've had in years and some mystery bruises (was I doing the bump too hard out there on the dance floor? I honestly don't remember).

Viva la Opening Night! Viva la Bombay! Viva la Champagne, no, I can't even joke about that yet.

Image from Good Housekeeping (Tom Kelley Archive / Getty Images).