Sunday, May 21, 2006

Control Freaks: Jonestown: The Life and Death of The Peoples Temple and Clear Cut

Jonestown: The Life and Death of The Peoples Temple
[Stanley Nelson, USA, 86 min.]

Clear Cut: The Story of Philomath, Oregon [Peter Richardson, USA, 73 min.]

One of the creepiest moments in Downfall was when Magda Goebbels poisons her six children. It wasn't the ignominy of postwar defeat that prompted her, but the fervent belief that a world without Nazism was unfit to live in. Better to hasten oneself to an afterlife than spend a minute in a fallen Eden. A similar compulsion propelled Jim Jones to create, then destroy Jonestown.

Though mostly remembered for having inspired the phrase 'drink the Kool-Aid' [albeit Flavor-Aid was consumed], Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple were, at one time, seen as a religiously tolerant, socially progressive organization. Jones was a charismatic revivalist who preached the social gospel, a sort of leftist Jim Bakker with a rad set of shades. An early anti-segregationist, he created one of the first integrated churches in the country and further broke racial barriers by adopting one black and two asian children, raising them equally along with his own son. A bit of an old-school socialist, he developed The Peoples Temple into a self-sustaining commune, one that operated so successfully that, by the time they moved from Ukiah to San Francisco, they attracted the admiration of the Democratic political establishment. Both Jimmy and Roslyn Carter paid him visits and Willie Moscone depended upon his support for his mayoral campaign.



Despite his acceptance and success, Jones harbored a dark, paranoid vision and sought to control every aspect of his church members' lives. As told by the surviving members in Jonestown: The Life and Death of The Peoples Temple, Jones worked them like zombies, abused them physically, preyed upon them sexually, forced them to cut off contact with outside family and friends and caused them to bequeath their material wealth to him. In return they were given a totalizing experience, one in which he would act as their father, lover, savior or god, whichever they needed from him. Seeking to further remove his members from corrupting influence he moved the temple to Guyana where he built his utopia on 3000 acres of land leased from the Guyanese government. Although achieving a remarkable level of sustainability in the middle of the jungle, Jones couldn't relax from the grip of his compulsions and continued to rule like a Maoist. When congressman Leo Ryan visited to investigate reports of captivity and abuse, Jones initially put on a good show. However, when several temple members began making their desire to leave known, Jones went haywire. A party was sent to ambush the departing delegation and Congressman Ryan, along with three journalists and three defectors, was shot and killed. Sensing that the murders wouldn't go unnoticed, Jones ordered the liquidation of the temple, coercing everyone to take a draught of the valium and cyanide laced Flavor-Aid. Although not everyone complied, a total of 913 people gave up their lives, including 276 children.

Although it might be impossible for any film to thoroughly explain such insanity, Jonestown presents the history in an engrossing and chilling manner and one cannot but feel sorry for the surviving participants and witnesses who testify of their shame and sorrow.

Though nowhere near as maniacal as Jim Jones, Steve Lowther has his own desire to shape a community. The nephew of timber baron Rex Clemens, Lowther (along with his brothers) administers a scholarship fund begun by their late uncle in 1959. The Clemens Scholarship was intended to insure that every graduate from the local high school could afford to go to college. There were no qualifications, only a one-page application that took five minutes to fill out. 

In the 1980's federal endangered species regulations devastated the lumber industry in Philomath. Since then, residents from the nearby town of Corvallis, employees of Hewlett Packard and Oregon State University, have begun to filter in as urban transplants, bringing an information-economy tilt to the old industry town. As typically happens, the brewing culture clash centered around the high school, the lighting rod being Terry Kneisler, a new superintendant from Chicago. As Kneisler sought to freshen up the curriculum, dark rumors began to circulate of highfalutin' notions such as 'environmentalism' and 'diversity' being taught. When wind of this got to Lowther he blew a gasket. In the film he voices his distress that the students are being indoctrinated by the cult of liberalism, just as surely as Germany's children were once indoctrinated by evils of Nazism [yes, he makes that analogy, twice]. Worse yet, the students are beginning to manifest this insidious brainwashing by sporting noserings and unnaturaly colored hair. Some have even taken to riding skateboards. The end is nigh. 

Lowther takes action, demanding that the school fire Kneisler or the scholarships will be terminated. When the school fails to comply, Lowther makes good on his threat, just as the class of 2003 is preparing to graduate.

Although it is quite easy to be angered by the actions of Lowther, Clear Cut: The Story of Philomath, Oregon manages to present him, as well as the other participants, in an evenhanded manner. Lowther comes across as an avuncular presence. The kind of relative you wouldn't mind having a beer with once a year, as long as the conversation was kept to sports. His opinions don't come across as Archie Bunkerish prejudices, but the anxieties of a man who knows full well the culture is passing him by. Lowther admits he's on the losing side of history, but he'll be dammed if he doesn't go down swinging. 

For his part, Kneisler isn't necessarily more sympathetic. He speaks in the measured tones of a pc-academic. The kind of tone-deaf, process oriented bureaucrat who would drive Hank Hill wild. When he banishes the school mascot, a wooden Indian, for being inappropriate, he doesn't realize that ripping out a long-cherished symbol by the roots evokes a psychic toll. 

Lowther might be a dunderhead for worrying that every fuschia-hued head of hair, sprouting among the student body, is evidence of the imminent collapse of civilization, but Kneisler doesn't help matters by spraying his administrative ammo at every available target. Although being the ones who bear the consequence, the students themselves aren't immune from their own notions of entitlement. Considering the grant a birthright instead of gift, some complain bitterly that Lowther has derailed their future.

In the end, neither side comes off particularly well. After the fund is pulled, Kneisler and a number of his associates scamper to less contentious pastures and the scholarship is reinstated, albeit with new restrictions. Only members of families who work in mining, lumber and agriculture can qualify and the applicants themselves must demonstrate they are of wholesome mind and body by participating in such organizations as 4-H, the Boy Scouts or the Forestry Club. In other words liberals, skatepunks, weirdos, computer geeks and fags need not apply. Needless to say, the number of students applying for the scholarship has dropped. Even those who meet Lowther's standards have been refusing to take his cash on the grounds that they don't care to have their values dictated by some geezer. It's nice to know that in Philometh, Oregon if not in Guyana, there are some folks who won't drink the Flavor-Aid.

Jonestown: The Life and Death of The Peoples Temple
5/29 NWFF 9:00pm
6/1 NWFF 7:00pm

Clear Cut: The Story of Philomath, Oregon
5/30 Egyptian 7:00pm
6/1 BPH 4:30pm


Images from Indy Star (Rev. Jim Jones in 1954/Maurice G. Burnett/Indianapolis Star) and The Oregonian. 

Friday, May 19, 2006

Tsui Hark's Less Than Magnificent Seven Swords

SEVEN SWORDS / Chat gim

(Tsui Hark, Hong Kong, 144 mins)



Please forgive me for temporarily abandoning the standard review format, but this mind-numbing battle extravaganza drove me too crazy to spend any more time thinking or writing about it than absolutely necessary-I've never yawned or checked my watch more frequently over the course of 144 endless minutes--so I offer instead a list of grades and one statistic.

Grades

Cinematography: A-
Costume Design: B+
Set Design: B
Acting: B-
Score: C+
Direction: C-
Screenplay: D
Character Development: F

It took me way too long to figure out who was who and why I should care. By the time I had everyone sorted out, it was too late. Feisty females Wu Yuan Yin (Charlie Yeung) and Green Pearl (the beautiful Kim So-yeon, above) had the makings of interesting characters, but the director failed them both. Seven Swords looks great and Tsui Hark (Once Upon a Time in China) is an action movie legend, so I feel like a heel for complaining, but two dozen fight scenes strung together, no matter how carefully executed or artfully composed, does not a movie make.

Statistic

Nine walkouts, if you count the guy who left just before the end. Most appeared to be 50 or older (five women to four men). That's the most of any press screening I've attended, but I'll be sure to check back the minute the record is broken.

Bonus statistic

On the off-chance you're looking for a non-narcotic alternative to Lunesta, Hark has reportedly cut a three-hour version.

*****

Neptune: 6/9 at 9:30pm and 6/11 at 3:45pm. Image from Mubi.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Upcoming: Fatih Akin's Crossing the Bridge and Matthew Barney's Drawing Restraint 9

CROSSING THE BRIDGE - THE SOUND OF ISTANBUL

(Fatih Akin, Turkey/Germany, 2005, 90 minutes)


After the triumph of Head-On, my expectations were probably unrealistically high for Fatih Akin's non-fiction follow-up. Crossing the Bridge isn't bad, and most of the music is quite appealing. I guess I was just expecting something a little more transcendant. Part of the problem is that I never took to narrator/host Alexander Hacke (Einstürzende Neubauten).

The bearded bassist in ever-present black worked on the soundtrack for Head-On, which combines Anglo-Australian post-punk from Depeche Mode and the Birthday Party with traditional Turkish tunes from legendary chanteuse Sezen Aksu, so his involvement makes sense (Akin was born and raised in Germany; the film is in German and Turkish with English subtitles).

From the featurette on the Head-On DVD, it's pretty clear that Akin is more charismatic than Hacke, but since Akin wrote, directed, and shot the documentary, I can only imagine that his plate was already overflowing.

The title refers to the fact that many of the featured artists, from Replikas to Ronny James Dio-lookalike Erkin Koray, view Istanbul as a bridge between the East and the West. Recommended to open-minded music lovers with a high tolerance for unctuous Germans. Werner Herzog fans, that means you!

Harvard Exit: May 27 at 5pm and May 30 at 6pm.


DRAWING RESTRAINT 9
(Matthew Barney, USA/Japan, 2005, unrated, 135 minutes)


For Matthew Barney aficionados, Drawing Restraint 9 will be required viewing. As its my sixth cinematic encounter with the man, however, I can't predict what new viewers will think, or how it will do commercially. Since this is the first film to receive a proper release, I'll be interested to see what happens.

Personally, I have mixed feelings about this one. While I can't imagine missing a Barney film--there's nothing quite like them--I'm not sure I'd call myself a fan. His stuff can be pretty squirm-inducing and sometimes just plain silly, like the fur eyebrows and shell shoes he sports in this film.

Further, though his partner Björk's involvement has been attracting a great deal of attention, be forewarned that, although she composed the soundtrack and appears on screen, her vocals are kept to a minimum and there's none of the acting so brilliantly on display in Dancer in the Dark.

Like previous Barney projects, Drawing Restraint 9 is performance art as film: music--some quite irritating--is abundant, while dialogue is virtually non-existent. It's mostly a series of set pieces revolving around two "Occidental Guests" (Barney and Björk), who engage in a series of Shinto-related marriage rites on-board an actual Japanese whaling vessel.

Drawing Restraint 9 is definitely--and defiantly--original, but I could have done without the extended sequence in which our Guests flense, i.e. slice the skin or fat off, their legs at the hip. Yuck.

Varsity Theater: Not associated with SIFF,
Drawing Restraint 9
opens on Fri., May 19.




While I'm at it, one of my favorite films from last year's SIFF, Clean , directed by Olivier Assayas and starring Maggie Cheung, opens in Seattle on June 30. Image from Poster Freaks (Crossing the Bridge poster).

Friday, May 12, 2006

The Long & Winding...

THE ROAD TO GUANTANAMO
(Michael Winterbottom, Mat Whitecross, UK, 95 mins)


[image]

While watching The Road to Guantánamo, it occurred to me that important films are rarely fun, while fun films are rarely important. United 93 is an important film. Though exciting--in the action-adventure sense of the word--it isn't much fun. Had Paul Greengrass imbued it with even a shred of fun, he'd have faced major derision, so it's understandable that he would resist the impulse. The result is a film that feels a bit like eating your "veg," to quote Wallace & Gromit. Salon's Andrew O'Hehir prefers the phrase "spinach cinema."

All of this is to say that The Road to Guantánamo is even more relentless than Midnight Express (1978), but without those patented Parker-esque flights of fancy to lighten the load. No, it's just torture, torture, torture. Granted, that's probably exactly what it was like for these young British Muslims, shipped to Cuba's Guantánamo Bay, while en route to a wedding in Pakistan.

Well, as a filmgoer, I found it a slog. Where's John Hurt when you need him? Or Steve Coogan, star of Winterbottom's gleefully irreverent 24 Hour Party People and Tristram Shandy? Seriously, Winterbottom, who trod similar ground with the superior In This World (2002), and Whitecross, his former AD, have done an admirable job at blending real-life interviews with re-creations in tracing the Kafka-esque journey travelled by this intrepid trio, but not until the cathartic final frame could I honestly say I enjoyed the film or found it the least bit "fun." I realize that's a lot to ask and it's not that I don't like spinach--it's just that I prefer it with a little sauce.

Egyptian: 6/8 at 7:15pm and Pacific Place: 6/11 at 1:15pm.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

SIFF 2006: Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands

Pusher II: With Blood on My Hands
(Nicolas Winding Refn, Denmark, 2004, 98 minutes)

I wasn't a big fan of Pusher, which I caught at SIFF '98, but nor was I a detractor. I dig Refn's highly-saturated style (those glowing reds!), which is bolstered by jolts of loud techno-metal. It reminds me of Gaspar Noe or David Lynch, circa Lost Highway, but the Denmark he depicts is so reprehensible, I can't fully embrace this trilogy--especially that stomach-churning final film.

I don't care that the main characters are thugs and addicts. They're also racist, misogynist, and every other "ist" you could care to name. In Pusher II, Tonny (Mads Mikkelsen, Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself) and Kurt the Cunt (Kurt Nielsen)--who lives up to his name--refer to those of Middle Eastern descent as "sand niggers." Worse yet, the women in their world are nagging harridans. They whine, they hoover up the cocaine, they whine some more. Then again, that also describes the men!

So, I didn't go in with the highest of expectations, but I'll be damned if Refn didn't win me over. Yet again. Granted, Pusher II takes awhile to get cooking, but everything comes together at the end, and Mikkelsen manages to make his loser just likable enough that I was willing to go wherever he took me. I knew it was going to be a pretty dark place, and that it was.

Like Gavin Hood's Oscar-winning Tsotsi, which also involves a hood and a baby, the character--let alone the movie--wouldn't work as well with another actor. Incidentally, the film is dedicated to Last Exit to Brooklyn author Hubert Selby, Jr., but there's Dickens in here, too--although it took me awhile to see what with the dizzying degree of coke-snorting on display.

Pacific Place: 5/26 at 9:15pm and 5/29 at 1:30pm.

Endnote: Mikkelsen stars in the upcoming Casino Royale. In Pusher II, he's a tattooed cue ball, but in real-life, well, there's a reason he's considered one of Denmark's best looking men--those cheekbones could cut glass!

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

An American Haunting with Sissy Spacek and Donald Sutherland: A Mixed Success

AN AMERICAN HAUNTING
(Courtney Solomon, USA, 2005, 83 minutes)

Based on true events that happened between 1818 and 1820, An American Haunting is the story of the Bell Family in Red River, Tennesee, and about the spiritual presence that tormented their youngest daughter and eventually caused a family member's death.

The film starts out with a promising chase sequence. A teenage girl fleeing from something unseen through a forest, into her room, and then confronted with someone trying to get in her bedroom door. Enter the girl's mom, waking her up from a nightmare. She finds a package in her daughter's room that was taken from the attic, and takes it downstairs to look at -- in which she finds a diary written by Lucy Bell, describing the terrors they experienced. Her narration pushes us into the "real" story, and thankfully, back in time to start a grim period piece.

John (Donald Sutherland) and Lucy (Sissy Spacek) Bell are living a happy life on their property until John decides to screw over neighboring landowner Kate Batts (Gaye Brown, who knows how to play a bitch very effectively) by making her pay him back a loan at too high an interest. The result: a curse from Batts, directed at John and his daughter, Betsy.

After alluding to a possible romantic entanglement between 16-year-old Betsy (Rachel Hurd-Wood) and her schoolteacher Richard Powell (James D'Arcy), strange things start happening in the Bell house. Starting with creaky noises in the attic and menacing wolves in the forest, the story moves pretty quickly to full-blown poltergeist disturbances that eventually involve dangling Betsy from the ceiling, where she is smacked around violently while the rest of the family watches in horror. The schoolteacher's logic fails, prayers have no effect, and John Bell's pleas to Kate Batts to lift the curse are to no avail. She tells him simply that he has made his own hell, and must live with it.

Now, ghost films don't usually get to me. I'm much too busy anticipating what's going to happen for anything to be surprised. But I'll admit, I jumped a LOT during this one. Director Courtney Solomon (we're just going to ignore the fact that his only other film was Dungeons & Dragons) really uses the "jump and startle" technique to its full ability. He also packs in a lot of cringe-inducing sequences with Betsy -- head banged, smacked around, pulled by hair, dragged around, and ravaged -- until she is so exhausted she can't move. John Bell's physical afflictions are a little less interesting, but do win some points for the gross-out factor.

In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed the ghost-y atmosphere of this film. I thought Spacek and Sutherland did amazing jobs (even with the predictably thin material), and was also impressed with how Hurd-Wood turned her wide-eyed, pouty-mouthed beauty into absolute agony. The only thing I would say is: that girl just does not have a terrifying scream; in fact, it sounded more like she had a froggy-sore throat - I seriously had to stifle my laughter. As for James D'Arcy, I could simply watch that man for hours without him having to say a single word of dialogue.

And now for what I did NOT enjoy: The terrible present day conclusion. It damn near ruined the entire film for me. I can see what they were going for -- a tie-in to bring it all together, explaining the opening sequence and relating what was happening now with then. However, the whole thing was completely unnecessary, as the few portions they showed of the present day story in the middle of the film were awful (just the mom reading the diary, and making shocked faces at it while she drank Absolut, in the middle of the afternoon, apparently -- no ghost related activity save the beginning nightmare), and I really think that the story could have been told completely without the use of a diary, and probably even without narration.

If you can ignore that, then I recommend going. And if you can, take someone with you who always jumps at startling moments. It will be much more fun that way!

Image from Entertainment Weekly (Sissy Spacek as Lucy Bell).  

Monday, May 8, 2006

Terry Zwigoff's Art School Confidential

ART SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL
(Terry Zwigoff, USA, 2006, 102 mins)

A painter I knew in Austin, who had attended art school at UT, once told me that he asked one of his instructors if he knew how to draw Bullwinkle. When the instructor confessed that he couldn't render a depiction of the cartoon moose, my friend concluded that his instructor was unqualified to teach him and dropped out of the program.

For those who attended art school or knew anyone who did or have any familiarity with the art world, Art School Confidential will be an enjoyable film. Although the portrayal is no where near as nuanced as that of Claire Fisher's art school career in Six Feet Under, Zwigoff and Clowes fairly well lampoon the pretensions and politics of art school. 

The movie abounds with in-jokes, from the name of the school to the often dead-on parodies of art student projects [Zwigoff and Clowes ring much truer on this than the too-professional-by-half LAC-Arts pieces depicted in Six Feet Under]. The film also skewers the types one tends to find in such programs [although that might be like shooting fish in a barrel] and is adept at parodying the art-star and theory-heavy tendencies of the contemporary art world [one is tempted to point to Matthew Barney as Exhibit A of this phenomenon if it weren't for the fact that the beauty, humor and audacity of his work allows one to forgive the deficiencies of much of its content].

What the film doesn't do is deliver particularly strong characters. Since the story hangs on an innocent, young artist who becomes corrupted by his aspirations [shades of Pierre and Lost Illusions] Max Minghella's Jerome makes for a particularly soft center. John Malkovich and Jim Broadbent offset this somewhat as his erstwhile mentors, but the strength of Art School Confidential lies mainly with the ideas presented by Clowes and Zwigoff, not with the characters embodying them. Still it's a funny movie and, although nowhere near as good as Crumb or Bad Santa, bears watching [albeit as a rental].

Image of Max Minghella and Joel Moore from Tubi.