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Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 16, Week 4

Back in the 80s, I went through a full-on teenage obsession with Nastassja Kinski that began when I saw Tess and lasted until the god-awful Revolution in 1985. In fact, in 1982 I wound up stealing her hairbrush, and if you buy me a drink someday I'll tell you how that happened. Klaus' daughter appeared in a handful of impressive films in the first half of the decade, but my personal favorite has always been Paul Schrader's Cat People, the source of last week's quiz. Though certainly not as effective as Jacques Tourneur's original, Schrader's take, with its taboo-tinged eroticism, made quite an impression on this sixteen year-old. Nuff said. I've just another day or two of Tribeca screenings, and though a full report is in the works, I will say that this year has turned out to be quite surprising in the number of winners they've programmed. The bad films are as bad as ever, but I think a current tally of films seen so far yields more hits than misses. Maybe. This week: this pair has appeared together in multiple films, and those of you who grew up on televised reruns should have no trouble recognizing both of them. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

The Guatemalan Handshake - Out today!

Today marks the release of Benten Films' third title, Todd Rohal's The Guatemalan Handshake. The long road to this release began in January 2007 in the lobby of the American Museum of the Moving Image, where I first met Todd and told him how enamored I was with his film. At that time he was actively being courted by another distributor, but our perseverance finally paid off after many months of negotiations. No mumblecore title this, Todd's film is a lush 35mm Cinemascope affair that looks gorgeous on DVD, thanks to the new anamorphic color-corrected transfer we prepared exclusively for this release. With package art by illustrator James Braithwaite (animator of the Oscar nominated short, I Met the Walrus), an essay by director David Gordon Green (George Washington, Pineapple Express) written for this release, and over two hours of bonus material, The Guatemalan Handshake is our most ambitious release to date, and the many nights, weekends and holidays that Aaron, Todd and I (and others!) sacrificed have certainly paid off. I'm always at a loss when asked to describe the film -- it's better experienced than summarized. I can say that it is a warm-hearted indie-comedy in the true sense of the word, unlike recent attempts by Hollywood to mask multi-million dollar projects by slapping an indie tag on it and rolling it out at Sundance. This is a peek into the imaginative, inventive mind of writer/director Todd Rohal, and it truly is a labor of love. (And a costly one at that!) The film, which stars indie-rock hero Will Oldham (Old Joy) and features music from David Wingo and The Moldy Peaches (Kimya Dawson, Juno), has been receiving some wonderful reviews, including a glowing writeup from Michael Atkinson over at IFC, a review from Peter Nellhaus (who finds hints of Vonnegut in the story), and a short piece from (oddly enough) style.com, who refer to Todd as a quirkaholic. Buy it, rent it, steal it from a friend, but do try and see it. Click HERE to see a clip from the film that features Will Oldham and Sheila Scullin performing a Moldy Peaches song.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 16, Week 3

Some people had trouble with the abstract math. True, Abba+The Beatles+2 Marx Brothers = 10, but what I was going for was two quartets and half of another = 8 1/2, the name of a trifling little film by a once in vogue Italian director of little importance....Freddie something. That is of course England's own Barbara Steele, whose haunting beauty became a staple of Italian horror films throughout the 60s, including Castle of Blood, An Angel for Satan, and of course Cemetery of the Living Dead. Though not a master of the thespian arts, she has a presence that once experienced is not soon forgotten. One of my all-time favorites photos of her is this one, which comes from a  1963 Vespa calendar. Simply lovely. The Tribeca Film Festival is about to begin, and I've already managed to see a small handful of the 1,859 titles programmed this year. Two wonderful films, two barely-watchable disasters, and a few that are just....meh. Expect some coverage here in the coming days. This week: I'll continue with the Filmbrain cinematic obsessions for yet another week. This one's too easy, I'm afraid. At the very least, that haircut screams a certain decade from the not-too-distant past. Name the actress and the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

On the other hand...

You know....when you receive constructive criticism from friends on multiple continents, it's probably a not a bad idea to take a step back and conduct an assessment of what you've written. Friday's post on the critic/blogger wars of the early 21st century was fueled by handful of factors, some relevant, others less so, and was written in haste at the end of long week full of setbacks, disappointments, and frustrations. Reading Tom O'Neil's Sunrise review was the proverbial straw that broke....you know. Over the past few months my interest in film criticism has surpassed that of watching films. Perhaps it's due to how mediocre I find many films these days, or simply a result of seeing too many. Regardless, I've been trawling second-hand book sites for out-of-print volumes on film criticism that I've wanted to read for years but never did, including works from Dwight MacDonald, Raymond Durgnat, Charles Barr, and Otis Ferguson. The mini-epiphanies I've been experiencing from their writing has intensified my sensitivity to shoddy criticism (my own included), which is why I've become frustrated with the counter-productive ad nauseum arguments raised at these symposiums on film criticism. For while those with talent and skill are busy pointing fingers and fighting turf wars, people like Tom O'Neil and Luke Y. Thompson continue to flourish. It's disheartening to say the least. Yet as a friend from England pointed out, for all my repeated calls for responsibility and professionalism, I was somewhat guilty of being neither in Friday's post. I wasn't present at the Moving Image Institute, and for me to formulate conclusions based on second-hand information that is itself laced with subjective interpretation wasn't befitting of a blogger trying to disprove blogger stereotypes. Don't get me wrong – I'm in no way knocking anything Karina wrote, but for me to use her interaction with A.O. Scott as a jumping off point isn't the strongest foundation to build an argument upon. An acknowledgment that hierarchies exist doesn't necessarily equate to an embracing of the status quo. I still hope the day arrives where we all can truly get along, and band together against a common enemy, but for the time being I need to chill out. I think a walk in the park followed by a heavy session of some comfort films (The Blues Brothers, Bande à Part, Goodfellas) will make me right as rain.

Critics v Bloggers Redux (Or: I've heard that song before...)

It's with a sense of bemused fascination that I've been reading Kevin Lee and Karina Longworth's dispatches from the Moving Image Institute in Film Criticism, which ended on Tuesday. Unlike my recent comments about the NYU workshop, it seems that there was plenty of healthy discourse on the current state (and future) of film criticism, and the timing couldn't be better with critic firings becoming a regular occurrence. At the same time, I can't help but feel that much of what was said was simply a retread of arguments we've heard for several years now. New York Times critic A.O. Scott's presentation (thoroughly covered by Karina) was refreshingly candid, if not a bit dated. Like corporate structures of yore, Scott believes in a traditional top-down model that places old-media critics at the top of the pyramid, and bloggers somewhere in the tombs below. It's an understandable position, perhaps, though his stance on commenters – who he likens to rabble-rousing riff-raff scaling the walls of Versailles – is not only passé, but it's the kind of spurious generalization brought out time and again that somehow magically brings the discussion to a close. While it's true that there are those whose contributions are little more than efforts at baiting the writer, it's nowhere near the level Scott believes it to be. Check out the comment threads on any of the heavily trafficked serious film blogs – The House Next Door, Glenn Kenny's blog, Girish, etc. – you'll find plenty of disagreement and argument, but for the most part it's quite civilized. Fortunately, there are enlightened visionaries like Matt Zoller Seitz who truly get the new paradigm, and who are not afraid to bite the hand that feeds. Matt, who has one foot planted in old media (he too writes for the Times, and elsewhere) and the other in one of the best online communities for film criticism (the aforementioned House Next Door), views blogging as a means of returning "human communication to its natural state," effectively wresting power away from ad-driven media conglomerates who, based on comments he's heard from colleagues, are stifling their writers. Unfortunately, however, Matt's views in the critic vs. blogger debate are the minority opinion, and many still see bloggers as a nuisance. In fairness, there are plenty out there who are contributing daily to the negative impression, and this brings me back once again to the issue of responsibility that I raised in the NYU post. I left a lengthy comment that I'm quite proud of over at Kevin's site which delves further into the matter. Please have a look – I'd love for more to join the discussion. I'm longing for the day when bloggers and critics can get together in a room without pulling the hierarchical bullshit (and that includes paid bloggers looking down at those who do it for free) and flippant generalizations, and actually discuss how we're going to move forward and keep the art of genuine film criticism alive, because the threat is coming just as much from the corporate overlords as it is from those sullying the blogosphere. Plus, when you get right down to it, we're the only ones reading each other's work. Not to beat a dead horse, but I leave you with a little quiz. What follows are two excerpts from reviews on Murnau's Sunrise; one written by an unpaid blogger, the other by a salaried professional whose work has appeared (amongst other places) in the very paper Mr. Scott calls home. Can you tell which is which? Sunrise weaves fluidly through the canvas of human emotion with the poetic grace of a silent, visual masterpiece. Directed by German expressionist icon, F.W. Murnau, the film is an ageless tale of dichotomy: betrayal and redemption, duty and hedonism, innocence and guilt, tradition and modernization. ... The camera tracking during the city scenes is seamless and adept, echoing the frenetic pace and limitless possibilities of urban life. Emotional turmoil is reflected in contrasts of light and darkness, shadows, exaggerated physical stature, and translucent, superimposed images. Sunrise is paper-thin, hilariously schmaltzy. All three primary characters are cartoonish clichés and their performances 3-inch slices of honeyed ham. Mind you, I'm the kinda guy who'd normally side with the weepie. On my top 10 list of fave pix of all time are Peggy Sue Got Married and Titanic. But I just can't shed a real tear when the farmer in Sunrise decides that he just — by golly! — can't off his sweet, dimpled wifey-pooh, after all. ... What corn pone! Smothered in Cheez Whiz! Wings ain't Shakespeare or Scorsese, mind you, but it's better than that!

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 16, Week 2

Was it the not-too-familiar visage of Mimsy Farmer, or rather the porn star cum one-hit-wonder Andrea True-themed clue that led to the overwhelming number of correct responses received for last week's quiz? I tend to think the latter, for Barbet Schroeder's More is more of a forgotten relic than anything else. Back in the "experimental" days of my youth, I thought the film was the bees knees, but a recent viewing leads me to believe that one of us hasn't aged well. (Okay, it may be me.) Still, as far as hippie junkies with a proclivity for frequent nudity go, one can do a lot worse than the tanned Ms. Farmer, who reminds me of a cross between Jean Seberg and Mia Farrow. Congratulations to all that guessed it, especially the many first-timers. Glad to have you on board. This week: another actress I was obsessed with some years ago. (Hmm...maybe I've found my theme for the round.) Name the actress and the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

bentenfilms.com v2.0

Just in time for our upcoming release of The Guatemalan Handshake on 29 April, Aaron and I are proud to announce the launch of the newly designed and overhauled Benten Films website. Along with detailed information on our current releases, there are pages for both The Guatemalan Handshake and The Free Will (Der Freie Wille). There you'll find information about the releases, stills to download (suitable for framing), and a trailer or clip from the film. We've also created a features section, and to kick it off there's a wonderful interview with Ola Podrida frontman David Wingo, composer of not only The Guatemalan Handshake soundtrack, but also David Gordon Green's George Washington, All the Real Girls, and the recently released Snow Angels. The site still has a few kinks, and we're in the process of redesigning (and adding content to) the Benten Blog, but otherwise it should all be fully functional. Feel free to stop by and say hello. Benten Films website

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 16, Week 1

Spring has finally sprung in New York, and as it is every year, there's an almost overwhelming number of great retrospectives cropping up at the same time as the Tribeca Film Festival, that unruly beast that always manages to include a few gems. (I first saw The Free Will at the festival two years ago, and, well, now I'm distributing it.) Between the Tomu Uchida retrospective at BAM, the 1968 films at the Walter Reade (including Robert Kramer's Milestones, which I've never seen) and the complete Godard 60s cycle at Film Forum, there's more than enough to aid cinephiles with their bouts of spring fever. Spring is also the perfect time to begin yet another round, the sixteenth in fact, of Filmbrain's weekly screen capture quiz! Though most of you know the drill by now, a quick overview for the uninitiated: each Wednesday morning a new screen capture quiz will be posted. All films come from my personal collection, and are limited to Region 1 releases. Answers may be submitted, via email, up until the morning of the following quiz. (Please don't post answers in the comments section.) Some quizzes may contain an additional bonus point question, which is a good opportunity to flex your cinephilic muscles and show 'em what you got. At the end of twelve weeks, the top three scorers will be allowed to choose any DVD used in the round as a prize. For the inaugural week, a film that's been on my mind of late. Not a great film by any means, and nowhere near as interesting now that I've watched it for the first time without the aid of certain....substances, but that's not to say it doesn't have its merits. Name it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Night and Day, You Are the One...

In his fourth film, 2002’s Turning Gate, writer/director Hong Sang-soo used Arvo Pärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel as the sole musical cue for the film. (Gus van Sant used the same piece for Gerry.) A minimalist piece for piano and cello that contains simple progressions based on three notes, it was an ideal choice for this bifurcated story of a washed-up actor and his mirrored relationships with two women. In the three films that followed (Woman is the Future of Man, A Tale of Cinema, Woman on the Beach) Hong worked with composer Jeong Yong-jin, whose playful scores were used liberally throughout, at times to great effect (particularly in Woman on the Beach.) For his eighth (and quite possibly greatest) film, Night and Day, Hong once again incorporates a classical work as a central theme, though this time he’s upgraded to the orchestral swells of the Allegretto from Beethoven’s 7th Symphony. It’s an apt choice, for just as the Pärt piece lent itself to the simplicity of Turning Gate’s structure, Night and Day is Hong composing, for the first time, in an orchestral vein. More mature in many respects, it’s a complex work that moves beyond his regular pieces for duos and trios, including a handful of characters on the periphery critical to the film's composition. That’s not to say that Hong’s moved in an entirely different direction. Night and Day, the next chapter in Hong’s deconstruction of Korean masculinity, revolves around another restless, self-delusional, insecure yet somewhat narcissistic artist whose words and actions are often contradictory – traits found in nearly all of his lead characters. Yet what’s different this time around is that there’s more at stake than simply a bruised ego, as well as genuine repercussions for each character's actions, both immediate and long term. At the same time, the film exhibits attitudes towards love, marriage and children not found in prior works. The film opens with forty-something Seung-nam (Kim Young-ho) arriving in Paris, having fled Korea after being arrested for smoking marijuana with an American (natch) exchange student. Stranded in a country where he doesn’t speak the language, Sung-nam settles in a cramped pension filled with other Korean expats. He spends his lonely days wandering the streets, and his nights in tears on the phone with his wife, desperate about his situation. The film is quite episodic, broken up into individual days, with the passage of time revealed by title cards indicating the date. Though his longest film yet (145 minutes), the pacing here is brisker than usual, with some of the days concentrating on a single incident in just a few brief moments. (Noticeably different, too, is the use of dream sequences – a first for Hong, if I’m not mistaken.) In a bit of Hongian Kismet, Seung-nam runs into Min-sun on the street, a former lover, yet doesn’t remember who she is (cf. Turning Gate). Unhappily married to a Frenchman, she hopes to rekindle the flame with Sung-nam, who agrees to meet her in a hotel. However, a last minute change of heart finds Sung-nam, in one of Hong’s most audacious scenes, reading aloud choice Biblical passages about sin to a near nude Min-sun. Has a male Hong character heretofore ever refused sex when offered? Soon Hyun-joo, an art student living in Paris, and her younger roommate, Yu-jeong enter the picture, and, not surprisingly, a distinctly Hongian triangle ensues, though it doesn't play out quite as expected. Emotional immaturity, drunken arguments, and failed attempts at seduction – staples of Hong's films – are all present, but at the same time the great distance from the comforts and familiarity of home finds his characters acting far less impulsive than usual. They're all searching for an identity, and sense of meaning, and in this regard the film approaches a realism not found in his earlier works – characters live for something other than the moment, and there are genuine consequences to their actions. At the same time this is also Hong's most symbolic film, particularly around issues of identity, family, and religion. Whether arm-wrestling a North Korean (as if defending his entire nation), rescuing a baby bird that's fallen out of its nest (just days after fawning over a newborn baby), or dreaming of kissing a woman's feet, Seung-nam's self-imposed exile results in a series of reflections on his life, his marriage, and his limitations as an artist. He's as flawed as all of Hong's male characters, but for the first time there are efforts at soul-searching. Like the opposites of its title, Night and Day is both solemn and playful, passionate and stoical. It's at once Hong's richest, most intricate film, yet in many ways his most minimal. I need to see it a second time to determine if it truly is his best film, but his evolution as a director is more fascinating than ever. A misleading, rather cheesy trailer can be found here. Night and Day currently has no North American distributor.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 15 - The Winners!

The Think Pink sequence is but one of the many wonderful moments in Stanley Donen's Funny Face, the stylish 1957 musical set in the world of fashion that was shamefully co-opted by The Gap, who set one of Audrey Hepburn's dance numbers to AC-DC's Back in Black in order to hawk skinny jeans. Oh the wondrous evils of postmodernism.... We've reached the end of yet another round, and for the first time in a long time (ever?) there are no perfect scores. I guess fingers should be pointed at cranky uncle Jean Luc-Godard, for Hail Mary slipped up all but a scant few of you. That said, there were three near-perfect elevens who can proudly share the title of victor for the round. They are: Max G, Mike F, and from across the pond in dear old Blighty, Antony S. Congratulations to the three of you -- any DVD used in the round is yours for the asking. Be sure to check back next week for the start of Round 16! At the same time, I'll be making a concerted effort to post more frequently. It's not for lack of content, but lack of hours in the day. Who'd have thought that running a DVD distribution business would be so gosh darn demanding. . .? Update: Owing to a rather interesting bug discovered in Microsoft Outlook, it appears that Filmbrain regular JK M (aka J.K. M) is also an eleven out of twelve-er, making it a four-way tie this round. Well done, Mr. M.