Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Quiet City, USA

As I type these words, the finishing touches are being applied to Benten Films' second release, Quiet City & Dance Party, USA: Two Films by Aaron Katz. As with LOL, we're extremely happy with the cover (pictured left) which we feel beautifully captures both the tone and lyricism of Katz's films. This two-disc set contains both of Katz's features, as well as some great bonus materials, including cast and crew commentaries for both films, The Lunch Hour (an early Katz 8mm short), alternative and extended scenes, the short-film prank Joe Swanberg's Quiet City, and more. The DVD hits the shelves on 29 January 2008, and can already be pre-ordered from Amazon, DeepDiscount, and various other online outlets. In related news, Quiet City received an Independent Spirit Award nomination in the John Cassavetes Award category, which is given the best feature made for under $500,000. Congratulations to Aaron and producers Ben Stambler and Brendan McFadden! Also, in the most recent issue of ArtForum magazine, critic Amy Taubin lists Dance Party, USA as one of her top-ten films of 2007. Hoorah! Lastly, the Benten Films website has been given a snazzy upgrade, which includes a link to the Benten Blog, still in its infancy. Now it's off to begin work on our third release, Todd Rohal's The Guatemalan Handshake.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 14, Week 8

I've been on something of a Fassbinder kick lately, so don't be surprised if another film by the prolific German shows up before the round is through. That's the dead auteur himself grabbing the shapely thigh of Hanna Schygulla from his debut feature, Liebe ist kälter als der Tod (Love is Colder Than Death). There's an unquestionable air of Nouvelle Vague that permeates the film, which tells of the odd romantic triangle between the gangster, the pimp, and his girlfriend. (Wasn't that the name of a sitcom a few years back?) A rather sparse film, but even at this early stage in his career Fassbinder proves himself to be a master of framing. This week: as I write this, I can't help but think I've used this film before. However, it's too late and I'm too tired to do anything about it. There are a handful of great hallway shots in this film, and this is my favorite. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

(Rightly) Forgotten Disappointments of the 70s: Believe in Me

1971's Believe in Me, a film I had been trying to track down for years, was one I had sincerely hoped to include in my "Forgotten Gems of the 70s" series. On paper it had quite a bit going for it -- it was created by the same writing/directing team of the extremely impressive The Strawberry Statement, Israel Horovitz (father of Beastie Boy Adam) and Stuart Hagmann; it featured 70s almost-icon Michael Sarrazin and Jacqueline Bisset as a couple hopped up on speed, and was shot on location on mean streets of NYC. So what went wrong? Though popular throughout most of the decade, Michael Sarrazin never quite reached superstar status in the 70s. Sharing the lead role with Jane Fonda in Pollack's They Shoot Horses, Don't They? should have propelled his career to bigger and better things, but it never happened. Not good looking enough to topple Reynolds or Redford, and without sufficient presence as a leading man to unseat Hoffman or Newman, he spent the 60s and 70s turning in fine performances in films that, while mostly forgotten today, are echt-70s -- Sometimes a Great Notion, Harry in Your Pocket, The Reincarnation of Peter Proud, etc. His performance in Believe in Me is as dedicated as all his others, but there's nothing of substance to grab on to. The wafer-thin plot tells of Remy (Sarrazin), a NYC emergency-room doctor hooked on amphetamines as a means of coping with the horrors he experiences daily, which includes spending time with terminally-ill children. Enter Pamela (Bisset) a children's book editor who becomes the unlikely love interest, and even more unlikely participant in Dr. Feelgood's speed-induced exploits. Throw in a somewhat-evil drug dealer named Uncle Stutter (70s staple Allen Garfield) and an under-aged addict, and you're left with a cautionary drug tale created by people who seem to know nothing at all about drugs. Genuine physio- and psychological ramifications are barely touched on, save for a scene of them staying up all night painting their apartment, and Sarrazin forcing Bisset to drink a bottle of Bosco chocolate syrup in an amphetamine-fueled rage. Unraveling with all the warmth of a government-sponsored anti-drug screed, the film lacks a human element that makes us care about these two as they enter their downward spiral. Remy and Pamela's entire romance is handled via an extended montage of the two of them walking on the beach to the strains of the overly syrupy Lou Rawls theme song as if it was a "Sessions Presents..." commercial. Pamela's slide into addiction is equally unconvincing, led by Remy's repeated mantra of, "trust me, I'm a doctor." Feh. There's not an ounce of chemistry between Sarrazin and Bisset, which is curious as they had already appeared together in the sleazy The Sweet Ride back in 1969, and were romantically involved at the time. Released in the same year as the far superior (and progressive) Panic in Needle Park, Believe in Me is an embarrassing mess of a film, made tolerable only by handful of street scenes that capture the true grit of Manhattan circa 1971. That, and hearing Bisset utter the line "I steal, I shoot dope, I fuck".

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 14, Week 7

Once again, this blog's patron saint makes an appearance in a screen capture quiz. That's the (mostly) headless Anna Karina carrying Jean-Paul Belmondo's volume of La bande des Pieds Nickelés in Jean-Luc Godard's brilliant Pierrot le Fou, his Bonnie & Clyde (of sorts.) I don't know much about Les Pieds Nickelés (nickel-plated feet) other than that it was a comic strip about three thieves that appeared in the Paris weekly L'Epatant from 1908-12. The film opens with Pierrot ("my name is Ferdinand") purchasing the book, and it makes several appearances throughout the film. What that means in the context of the film (or to Godard personally) is a mystery to me. The inspiration for this shot began with a query in a post on the wonderful new film blog The Wind in the Trees, started by a dear friend who wishes to remain anonymous for the time being. Though light on content at the moment, he's introduced a 'Movie poster of the week' feature that is great fun (especially considering that he's a movie poster designer himself.) Be sure to check it out. This week: I had hoped to find something Thanksgiving-related, but other than the blatantly obvious (Planes, Trains, and Automobiles) I couldn't think of anything clever. So instead, a filmmaker I'm certainly thankful for. Name the film, and have a happy holiday. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 14, Week 6

Well I certainly suffered the slings and arrows from many of you for last week's quiz! Yes, it was a film I used before and, yes, it was painfully simple. What can I say? Stressed, overworked, and sleep deprived...not to mention a post-Southland Tales bout of Richard Kelly on the brain. It was one of those weeks. The girls of Sparkle Motion can be found, of course, in Donnie Darko, dancing to Duran Duran's Notorious, though in fact the scene was shot to the vastly superior Pet Shop Boys track, West End Girls. I'd like to thank everyone who commented or emailed about my piece on Diva. It's great to know that the film holds a special place in the hearts of others as well, and reading your recollections of that year-long run just made me that much more nostalgic for the NYC of the past. Sigh.... To make up for last week's gimme, I've chosen a shot that is (I believe) slightly less obvious. It was inspired by a post on another blog, though I obviously won't link to it just yet. I'll give one hint – it comes from one of those crazy French films. Name it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Tapes 'n Tapes

When the now-defunct United Artists Classics acquired the rights to Diva, Jean-Jacques Beineix's 1981debut feature, do you suppose they had any idea of the tremendous success it would become – that a New York audience would take to it the way their Parisian counterparts did – or was it just dumb luck? The film opened in New York in April 1982 (about a year after its French debut) at the Plaza Theater to mixed reviews. The Times' Canby was all but dismissive of it ("empty though frightfully chic-looking"), but Kael ate it up, calling Beineix "Carol Reed reborn with a Mohawk haircut." Regardless, the film was a smash hit, with almost every show selling out. I saw Diva for the first time in June of 82, waiting on line for over two hours with a bunch of other New Yorkers eager to see the film that was on everybody lips. Though I was only an impressionable high-school kid, I had seen a fair share of French films, but nothing at all like this. Sure, À bout de souffle was cool as fuck, but Diva was all about the here and now, and its mobylette-riding protagonist Jules became something of a role model for years to come. (I even bought a second-hand Malaguti. Yes, it's pathetic.) The film had a successful run in New York for over a year, and I must have seen it at least twenty times, dragging various friends (and girlfriends) whenever I could. Diva is once again back in New York for its twenty-fifth anniversary, in a new print (with vastly improved subtitles) courtesy of Rialto. I went to see it a few weeks ago – on the morning of my birthday in fact – and I'll admit that I approached it with trepidation. Would the film hold up after all these years, or would it feel horribly dated? Would Jules, Gorodish and Alba still seem as cool now that my own mobylette years have long passed? The answer is a resounding...yes. Based on one of Delacorta's Gorodish & Alba novels (which follow the adventures of a Zen-like French musician and his companion, a 14 year-old nymphet), Diva was the genesis of the Cinéma du look, that mini-movement in 80s French cinema that blended high-art with low, and favored the slick style of adverts and music videos, still in their infancy at the time. Though there's no denying that Diva is an incredibly stylized work, Beineix backs it up with enough substance to justify its gloss. A tale of two tapes, as it were, the film finds our postal worker hero Jules (Frédéric Andréi) caught up in the underworld of both international music piracy and human trafficking. Living in an old garage amidst trashed luxury automobiles and pop-art murals, Jules' one passion is opera, particularly the voice of Cynthia Hawkins (Wilhelmenia Fernandez), who has refused to commit her voice to record. Smuggling his Nagra reel-to-reel into the opera house, he makes a pristine recording that is of great interest to a couple of Taiwanese music pirates in black suits and mirror shades. A random encounter with a cassette-carrying escaped prostitute sets off a chain of events that includes several murders by awl, a suspenseful chase scene through Paris' streets and Metro, and a lesson in buttering bread. What's most remarkable about watching Diva today is how much it is a product of its time. Today, Jules' bootleg tape would be available as a torrent within hours after the performance, and the prostitutes damning evidence would be a digital audio file attached to an email. There's something comforting in the limitations of the pre-Interweb all-analog world, where something physical, not virtual, is both the cause and solution to a series of problems. What hasn't faded at all after all these years is that, beneath its multiple layers of intrigue and super-cool exterior, Diva is a film steeped in dreamy idealized cinematic romance. Jules' all-night dalliance with the diva still stands as one of the most romantic sequences ever, and their rainy dawn promenade through Paris to the Satie-esque theme by Vladimir Cosma will melt all but the hardest of hearts. (Jules' hesitant hand as he reaches to touch her shoulder is pure magic.) At 17 I believed that Beineix's Paris – where a simple postman can have a platonic romance with an opera star, befriend a roller-skating thieving Vietnamese beauty, be chased by trench coat wearing assassins, and be rescued by a Gitanes-smoking, multiple Citroën Traction Avant owning cool guy – truly existed. Today I consider Diva to be a perfect bit of romantic escapist fantasy. Unlike many films from the 80s, Diva has only improved with age, and it's easy to see why the film had such long legs during its initial run. If you've never seen it, or haven't revisited it in years, don't miss this opportunity. Diva is currently playing at Film Forum in New York. Afterwards, it is rolling out to Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland etc. See Rialto's site for complete details.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 14, Week 5

I guess Walter Huston and Ruth Chatterton aren't as recognizable as I thought. The number one guess last week was F.W. Murnau's Sunrise, which makes sense as it certainly is about a troubled marriage. However, this shot comes from William Wyler's outstanding Dodsworth, a film I had been meaning to revisit ever since reading the Self-Styled Siren's review back in 2006. Watching it again (after many, many years), I'm convinced it's one of Wyler's best, with a remarkably sophisticated, complex screenplay that beautifully avoids demonizing Chatterton as the cuckolding wife. With screenwriters on strike, perhaps they should use some of their down time and learn some lessons from the past. I saw Southland Tales today, the Richard Kelly film that's been stuck in limbo since its debut at the 2006 Cannes film festival. I honestly don't know what to think about it. It's been on my mind all day, which I guess is a good thing, but I'm going to need a bit longer to digest it all. One outcome of the screening is that I've had Blur's Tender on repeat for most of the night. (I had forgotten what a damn great song that is!) After last week's stumper, I decided to go easy this time around. Failure to get this one will have me questioning your commitment to the weekly screen capture quiz. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!