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Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 15, Week 8

I saw The King of Comedy the other night, and it really struck home. I walked out of the theatre, and there was a crowd of people waiting to come in. They all started to shout, 'Hey, it's Sting!' I'd just seen Jerry Lewis brutalised by a fan, and I felt vulnerable. I walk on the street a lot more than many performers I know because I feel it's my right. I don't have bodyguards and limos, because you have to maintain some kind of grown-up autonomy or you end up a baby... Still, The King of Comedy frightened me, and the end of the movie, where Pupkin becomes famous, really pissed me off. I wanted Jerry Lewis to just wipe the floor with him. I wanted Pupkin to fail as a comedian because he'd taken such a liberty with a man's life. But I realised that I saw the film from an isolated point of view. The rest of the audience seemed to find the idea funny of tying up a famous person and torturing him. – Sting, 1983 I vividly remember reading this interview on a beach in Santa Barbara back in '83, and the fact that it frightened Mr. Sumner so has (for some odd reason) never left me. Special thanks to quiz regular Mr. Mangold for locating it on the interweb! I've always considered The King of Comedy as an alternate version of Taxi Driver, with Rupert Pupkin being Travis Bickle's separated-at-birth brother. A box-office failure for Scorsese, I find it to be one of those films that only gets better with age. It's got Jerry Lewis basically playing himself, Sandra Bernhard in her underwear, and Kim Chan uttering the unforgettable line, "I'm having a heart attack already." Plus, it features members of The Clash in a cameo. What's not to love? Congrats to those who recognized Rupert's photo of his pride and joy. This week – you've seen this film dozens of times. I know this to be twue. Name it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 4: Transsiberian (Or: "Do you know who I am?!?")

This year's European Film Market featured over 700 titles, with an average of 150 films screened each day of the festival. As a result, it wasn't uncommon to find audience sizes in the single digits, often dwindling down to one or two by the film's end. However, each year there are a few titles that draw buyers in like moths to a flame. Back in 2005 a riot almost broke out at the lone market screening of Thomas Vinterberg's Dear Wendy, which at that time was a hot commodity. Kind of hard to imagine, but true. Though it was part of this year's Panorama section, Brad (The Machinist) Anderson's Transsiberian had an early market screening a few days before its premiere. Having just walked out of a terrible Korean film, I decided to wait the twenty minutes, having read a few good things about it from Sundance. It wasn't long before the (maybe) 150-seat theater was filled to capacity, with at least a hundred additional angry buyers vying to get in. As the din from those denied entrance began to rise, I heard a deep, booming, gravelly voice utter a line I never imagined I'd actually hear used unironically – "Do you know who I am?!?" I half-expected the self-proclaimed VIP to be ushered in to the theater, but apart from a brief moment of silence, nothing happened. I'd give my eye teeth to learn who it was that had the moxie to issue forth those words. I sincerely hope the mysterious buyer managed to catch Transsiberian, for though it's not the type of film one expects to find at the Berlinale, it is a brilliant genre exercise in white-knuckle tension and suspense that avoids the grand third-act set piece that has become practically obligatory these days. Anderson's film is one of those pan-European productions shot in exotic locales that is a throwback to such 70s suspense films as The Cassandra Crossing or Avalanche Express, while at the same time functioning as a gripping relationship drama cum morality tale. Woody Harrelson and Emily Mortimer play Roy and Jessie, a midwestern American couple who are performing volunteer work in Beijing with their fellow Christian missionaries. Rather than fly home with the rest of the group, they decide to ride the rails on a seven day journey to Moscow. Roy, a train enthusiast (and genuine milquetoast) is too caught up in is hobby to notice the strange behavior of cabin mates Carlos and Abby (Eduardo Noriega and Kate Mara). Toss in a corrupt police inspector (Ben Kingsly) and add sexual tension, drugs, smuggling and a bit of torture, and you've got yourself a thriller of nearly Hitchcockian proportions. Anderson and Will Conroy's screenplay takes its time to slowly unravel the multiple layers of deception and intrigue, which is just as much about Roy and Jessie's marriage (and their past) as it is about the dangers they face while traveling across Russia. It isn't often that we find such richly developed characters in a thriller, and Anderson really shows his strength as a creator of tension, be it sexual or otherwise. There's a wonderful sense of place in the film, which subtly draws attention to details of the various villages they stop in while at the same time capturing the frustrations and limitations of being an outsider, yet Anderson does so without the self-congratulatory air of, say, The Darjeeling Limited. Though not a masterpiece by any means, Transsiberian is still a rare thing – a sharply written, emotional, intelligent thriller that is closer to Hitchcock than anything I've come across in ages. For the life of me I can't understand why this doesn't have US distribution. Maybe they should have let that guy in.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 15, Week 7

I just flew in from Berlin and boy are my...... I had completely forgotten that Wim Wenders co-opted Hopper's Nighthawks at the Diner in A History The End of Violence, which explains why it was the most popular guess last week. However, the shot comes from Herbert Ross' version of Dennis Potter's Pennies From Heaven, a film that people either love or hate -- there seems to be no middle ground. I'm functioning on a total of six hours of sleep over the last forty-eight. To say I'm delirious is an understatement. After catching up on the Zzzs I'll be back with more Berlinale reviews. This week: the image says it all. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 3: Harvey's Right-Wing Victory

I was at a film last night (the excellent documentary Gegenschuss) with Jurgen Fauth and D-Kaz when the Bears were handed out. Racing to a net cafe afterwards to learn who won, a stunned silence filled the room as the three of us could only stare blankly at each other when we learned that José Padilha's Tropa de Elite (Elite Squad) had walked away with the Golden Bear. Easily the worst film in competition, this ultra right-wing (bordering on fascist) Police actioner set in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro had nothing going for it, except for its pushy American distributor, Harvey Weinstein.  It wasn't long after the awards last night that SMS messages were flying fast and furious about how Weinstein had somehow bought the award. Perhaps that's something we all needed to believe, for how else were we to process that a critically panned film could walk away with top honors, especially when it was up against such lauded works as There Will Be Blood or Happy-Go-Lucky? Having had a night to sleep on it, I find myself just as puzzled as to how it could have happened, especially under the watch of jury president Costa Gavras, a director famous for several left-leaning political dramas. Elite Squad, which advocates torture and killing by BOPE (Brazil's Special Police Operations Batallion) makes a hero of and seeks sympathy for its protagonist, Captain Nascimento, a tough-as-nails but incorruptible cop who is looking to retire, but not until he can find a replacement who has no qualms about torturing and killing just about anybody. This is a repugnant, ugly film that blames pot smoking university students for all of Brazil's woes. Yet even if we put its politics aside, the film isn't even interesting as a simple action thriller. Sloppy camera work, chaotic editing, and a simplistic screenplay that relies heavily on expository voice-over. How and why it wound up in competition in Berlin is a mystery. The jury was shy two members this year as Sandrine Bonnaire and director Susanne Bier dropped out at the last minute, and one can't help but wonder if the film still would have won had they been on the jury. Did Harvey in any way influence this win? We'll never know for sure, but I'm finding it increasingly difficult to believe this was the result of an honest vote.

Berlinale Diary 2: Love's a bitch

[I began this days ago, but haven't found the time to give it a proper edit. NB: Prose might be even clunkier than usual.] Day four of the festival, and though I've yet to see anything truly outstanding, fortunately nothing has been outright awful. Well, maybe the Doillon film. At the moment I'm sitting in the Cinemaxx cafe, the sole location for free WiFi, though it's flaky at best. To my immediate left sits David Hudson, diligently working on a GreenCine post, as we await a screening of Wonderful Town, the Thai post-tsunami drama that was this year's winner at Rotterdam. Longer reviews will have to wait until the fest is over, but here are some brief comments on several films, all of which are centered around problematic relationships. Most of the European critics came down pretty hard on Petri Kotwica's Black Ice, a film in competition from Finland, but I found this deliciously dark drama about dangerous deceptions to be a good bit of trashy fun. Saara, a gynecologist, learns on her birthday that her husband Leo, a university professor, is having an affair with one of his students, the beautiful (and far younger) Tuuli. Pretending to be somebody else, Saara and Tuuli form a friendship. Though it begins to approach the ridiculous in the third act, the film maintains an unpredictability throughout, while growing continually darker as it progresses. Though there have been many films with a similar dynamic, Black Ice offer a truly unique and uniquely Scandinavian twist on the husband-wife-mistress drama. Outi Maenpaa's performance as Saara is one of the strongest I've seen so far in competition, and I wouldn't be surprised if she walks away with the Bear. I doubt this will ever find its way to the States, though I wouldn't be surprised if we soon hear about an American remake.

Also in competition is the tremendously disappointing In Love We Trust, from director Wang Xiaoshuai (Beijing Bicycle). Beginning with a schmaltzy plot line right out of a Lifetime movie-of-the-week, Wang attempts to strip away most of the melodrama and leave us only with a detailed character study. It's a brilliant idea that unfortunately fails on execution. Hehe, the five year-old daughter of Mei Zhu and Xiao Lu is dying of leukemia. Their only chance at saving her is for the couple to have another child, who can act as a donor for a bone marrow transplant. The only problem is that they are divorced, and have both remarried. Naturally, there's anger, bitterness and jealousy from the new spouses, even though the cause is just. Though Wang focuses more on the moral dilemma that faces the four adults (as opposed to the child's illness), the film continually fluctuates between soap-opera and art film, and it succeeds as neither. With heavy-handed symbolism and a embarrassingly obvious plot device, In Love We Trust ends up being an uninspired drama that even its strong lead performances can't save.

Daniel Kasman and I violently disagree about Jacques Doillon's latest, the pretentious Le Premier Venu (Just Anybody). Twas a time I would have loved this film, but I guess I'm losing patience for French films where characters speak and act in ways that have no connection whatsoever to the real world. Dig the plot: Camille (the pouty Clementine Beaugrand, in her debut performance) is a bored twenty-something who, seeking a bit of zest in her life, decides to fall in love with just anybody. Enter Costa (Gerald Thomassin) a Neanderthalic homeless criminal who has (perhaps) date-raped her on their first meeting. This of course means true love, and she follows the guy back to his hometown, where he has an ex-girlfriend and a child he hasn't seen in three years. (I should have walked out then and there.) Enter village cop Cyril (Guillaume Saurrel) who seemingly has nothing but free time on his hands, as the third leg in this ridiculous triangle, and you've got two hours of characters who lack any genuine connection exhibiting a wide range of emotions like clockwork every few minutes. In fact, they're less characters than they are vessels for Doillon's dialogue, which goes on endlessly but says very little. Filled with dozens of false starts that go nowhere and pointless spur-of-the-moment actions, Le Premier Venu is little more than an endurance test.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 15, Week 6

Grüße aus Berlin! A thousand apologies for not posting any additional updates from the festival, but the days are long, the nights longer, and I've had little time to sleep, let alone blog. Lots is on the way, just have to get through a few more days of screenings, meetings, and, yes, parties. Quick updates - the new Hong Sang-soo (Night and Day) and the Mike Leigh (Happy-Go-Lucky) films are wonderful. The Errol Morris (Standard Operating Procedure) and Isabel Coixet (Elegy) are disappointments. Best thing I've seen at the fest is Johnnie To's Sparrow, but more on that to come. Up until yesterday my bet was that There Will Be Blood would walk away with the Golden Bear, but now my money is on Happy-Go-Lucky. We'll know in a few days... The ingénue from last week's quiz was none other than Ms. Heather Graham, from Alan Parker's Rudolph's vastly underrated Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle. Speaking of Ms. Graham, her face is plastered all over the EFM on a poster for the awful-looking Buy Borrow Steal, a comedy about a woman who has only thirty days to conceive a child. Oh the hilarity! This week: a well known painting co-opted. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 1: Granddads Rock

Martin Scorsese’s Rolling Stones concert pic Shine a Light, which opens the Berlinale tonight, failed to start me up. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get no satisfaction, but what’s puzzling me is the nature of its game. Well, I guess you can’t always get what you want. Ok, enough groaners. After a highly promising first ten minutes – a rapid-fire montage of the tremendous effort required to get the film off the ground, shot on enough different film stocks to make Oliver Stone green with envy – the film quickly becomes a straight-up concert film. A masterfully shot and edited concert film, but one that has little appeal to those of us not interested in hearing Brown Sugar for the eight millionth time. The interplay and clashes between Scorsese and Jagger – over the staging, the lighting, the camera placement and even the set list – would make for a fascinating doc on its own. Marty's attention to even the tiniest of details is remarkable, and the snippets of what we see in those opening moments are glimpses into his working method as a director. The candid moments with the band during rehearsal, plus the slightly awkward meet-and-greets with Bill Clinton and his guests has a genuine immediacy to it that I hoped would continue throughout the film. However, the concert soon begins and that's all we get for the remainder of the film, save for some ironic archival interview footage of the band members answering questions along the lines of "how long do you think you'll be doing this?" As for the band itself, sure, they still have remarkable energy on stage, and Jagger at 64 has a stamina that would put many 32 year-olds to shame, but the problem is just how polished and over-produced it all sounds. With a slew of supporting musicians literally on the sidelines (including two additional guitar players – are Ron and Keith not able to bring it anymore on their own?), the arrangements are more Vegas than rock-and-roll. They do a bunch of expected hits, some rarer tracks from their catalog, as well as a few covers, including Just My Imagination, which goes on for far too long. It's a homogenized version of the Stones, right down to Mick cleaning up the offensive lyrics in Some Girls. What is impressive about the film is how up close and personal Marty and his cinematographers (which include John Toll and Emmanuel Lubezki) manage to get to their subjects. Much of the film is shot in extreme close-up, and it's not always flattering. There's coverage of just about everything going on, and the editing (by David Tedeschi) is award-worthy. Sure, it's better than your average concert film, and die-hard fans won't be disappointed, but it's no Last Waltz II. And they didn't even play Gimme Shelter! What's up with that?

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 15, Week 5

I've honestly never been able to decide exactly how I feel about Stanley Kramer as a director. Though I've only seen about half of his films (and only one of his post-1970 titles), it's been many years since I've revisited most of them. While I'm sure Inherit the Wind still stands up, I wonder if I'd have the patience for The Defiant Ones or The Pride and the Passion. One can hardly blame Kramer for trying something as ambitious as It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World during the era when epic comedies were en vogue, but his nearly three-hour star- and cameo-studded slapstick affair suffers from excessive bloat. Sure, it has its moments (such as Dick Shawn as the beach bum momma's boy, as seen in last week's quiz), but whereas I enjoyed watching this on the 4:30 movie (over five days) getting through it last week was quite an ordeal. However, judging by the emails received, it seems that quite a few of you have a soft spot for the larger-than-life comedy. I prepared this post (as well as the quizzes for the next two weeks) before leaving for Berlin, so if you're reading this, then Typepad has done its magic. Huzzah! This week: the ingénue as ingénue. The face may look familiar, but is the film? Name it? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Benten Business Berlin Bound

In just a bit over forty-eight hours from now I'll be boarding a plane bound for the 58th Internationale Filmfestspiele Berlin, or as it's commonly known, the Berlinale. Though I'm officially going as a buyer and will be attending the European Film Market with an eye on a few 2007 titles that didn't find distribution, my cinephilic side is as excited as a child on Christmas morning. Festival Director Dieter Kosslick received some heavy criticism last year for some of his choices (the J. Lo fiasco Bordertown, for one) and the strength of this year's competition lineup seems to indicate he's focusing more on quality rather than star chasing. Besides the aforementioned Hong-sang Soo film Night and Day, the competition list includes new films from Isabel Coixet (Elegy, based on Philip Roth's The Dying Animal), Mike Leigh (Happy-Go-Lucky), Erick Zonca (Julia), Johnnie To (Sparrow), and Errol Morris (Standard Operating Procedure), to name but a few. Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood is also in competition, but will European critics be as bowled over as their American counterparts? I can't wait to find out. The EFM is even larger this year than last, and navigating my way through the 700+ titles being screened is an arduous process. Like finding a needle in a haystack, one has to work their way through the various straight-to-video nightmares replete with B- and C-list actors in order to spot the potential gems. I'll have much more to say on the EFM at a later date.

There's been tremendous buzz about the nearly twenty music-themed films at the fest this year, especially the opening film, Scorsese's Rolling Stones doc Shine a Light. I'll admit to a certain skepticism, mostly because I find the Stones more than a bit inconsequential these days. Still, it is Marty. Yet more than any of the various docs, the one film I'm most curious about is Madonna's directorial debut, Filth and Wisdom, starring Gogol Bordello's own Eugene Hutz. The question remains –€“ will this be an utter train wreck, or will we soon be adding the name Ciccone to the auteur canon? (Can she be any worse than her husband?) The lineup in the festival's many other sections (Forum, Panorama, Perspektive Deutsches Kino, etc.) is equally as impressive, and though I've only scratched the surface, my list of must-sees is growing daily. I'm intrigued about a documentary called Jesus Christus Erlöser (Jesus Christ Savior), featuring Klaus Kinski. Though I can't seem to locate anything concrete about it online, I'm assuming it has to do with Kinski's infamous and controversial 1971 public reading of the titular work, which is his own reworking of the New Testament. Hoo-hah! Then there's Beautiful, a film written (but not directed) by Korean provocateur (and Mike D'Angelo fave) Kim Ki-duk. An echt Kim plot, this one concerns a breathtakingly beautiful woman who, after being raped (for being beautiful), begins to "kill her beauty." A meditation (or so it seems) on the blessing/curse of beauty, I'll withhold judgment until I see it, but the film already has my vote for worst/greatest tagline ever –€“ Your Beauty Makes Me Hard. If you're going to be at the fest, leave a comment below or email me if you'd like to meet up for an absinthe and a currywurst.