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Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 17, Week 4

A cinephilic confession: I have never been able to warm to Eric Rohmer. My friends have always been dumbfounded by that fact, but it's something I just can't shake. I picked up a second-hand copy of Conte d'été (A Summer's Tale) for the quiz, a film I hadn't seen since its theatrical release in the late 90s. As I watched it again, I found myself experiencing the same sense of frustration with his characters that I get every time I watch one of his films. He's a wonderful director of actors, but I find his dialog so clinical and cold. The bulk of the first forty-five minutes of A Summer's Tale consists of a dialectic on friendship, relationships, and love between Melvil Poupard and Amanda Langlet (pictured in last week's quiz) that, while intellectually satisfying, is so far removed from how I imagine two flirty twenty-somethings would talk while taking walks in the French countryside. (Dare I utter the word pretentious?) It's not that I crave realism -- it's a film after all -- but perhaps this is taking it too far in the opposite direction? 

The argument I hear most often is, "But how can you love the films of Hong Sang-soo and not like Rohmer?" The quick and dirty answer (which I should probably expound on in a separate post) is this: Hong's characters are continually exposing their all-too-human traits -- weakness, denial, jealousy, insecurity, etc. They get drunk and make asses of themselves. They lie to themselves and each other to get what they want. Rohmer's characters, while beautiful to look at, seem more like vessels for Rohmer's personal philosophy than an actual attempt at sculpting characters.

Before the hate mails commence, let me say that I'm not proud of this position. I want to love Rohmer, and perhaps one day I'll see the light. Or maybe I just need to meet a 25 year-old ethnologist who also happens to work as a waitress in a crêperie. Until then, I remain a shamed philistine.   

Now that the IFP is over, I can focus most of my energy on the New York Film Festival press screenings. I've been impressed with all but one film (the painfully unsubtle mess that is Afterschool) and hope to post several more reviews in the coming days.

This week: not what usually comes to mind when you think of a French postcard. (Ooh la la!) This one's too easy, I'm afraid. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Lost in the Sixties and Seventies: A Dozen I'd Kill to See

[Note: This is my entry in MovieMan's 12 Hard-to-See-Movies meme. A special thanks to Lazy Eye Theatre and Out1 for getting things moving.]

I've been tagged by Glenn Kenny for the "Twelve Films You Haven't Seen" meme, and I have to admit I wasn't sure how to approach the subject. Some people are choosing hard-to-find titles, while others are confessing easily-filled gaps in their viewing history. As I'm not too keen on embarrassing myself with the latter (cough...cough...The Red Shoes), I thought I'd choose from my list of dying-to-see-but-haven't titles. However, the sheer size of that list is such that choosing a mere dozen would be too arduous a task, so I decided to narrow it down to a sub-category -- unseen films from the 60s and 70s that I'd gladly trade Nastassja Kinski's hairbrush for an opportunity to see.

In no particular order, here are my twelve-most sought after films in that category:

1) Move (Stuart Rosenberg, 1970)
After Cool Hand Luke (1967), Rosenberg made a handful of interesting but flawed films in the 70s, including the Terrence Malick scripted Pocket Money and the almost-perfect WUSA. I've seen all but this one, a very New York comedy about (among other things) a couple trying to move out of one apartment and into another. The film stars two of my favorite 70s staples, Elliott Gould (who plays a porn-writing playwright) and Paula Prentiss. The few reviews I've read have been pretty dire, but the combination of Gould, Prentiss and Manhattan real-estate is too good to pass up. 

2) Sweet Smell of Sex (Robert Downey, Sr., 1965)
As a huge fan of Iron Man's dad (a prince), how could I not want to see this ultra-rare entry in his oeuvre, especially with a title that riffs on one of my favorite films of all time? The current Anthology Film Archives retrospective of several of his films reminded me of this odd one; it's the only film of his I know very little about other than that it stars Downey regulars Lawrence Wolf and Tom O'Horgan. I'm guessing it's a sex film. I have a meeting with him tomorrow, so I'll be sure to ask him.

3) Futz! (Tom O'Horgan, 1969)
Speaking of Tom O'Horgan (best known for directing Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar on Broadway), there's this -- a counterculture musical about the special relationship between a man and his pig. This sexual satire was written by Joseph Stefano (screenwriter, Psycho) and lensed by none other than Vilmos Zsigmond. The cast includes Frederic Forrest and Sally Kirkland, and the fact that it's a musical only strengthens my resolve to see it.

4) You've Got to Walk It Like You Talk It or You'll Lose That Beat (Peter Locke, 1971)
Easily the holiest of grails on the list, this is a film I originally heard about back in the early 80s, but only recently confirmed that it does indeed truly exist. Dig this: an anarchic anti-establishment comedy that skewers then-contemporary mores that stars Zalman King (yes, that one) as a young man trying to find his way in New York City. Add to that a cast that includes Allen Garfield, Richard Pryor, and Roz Kelly (Happy Days' Pinky Tuscadero), and features music by Steely Dan's Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. Oh yes, Wes Craven worked on the film as well. I have never met a single soul who can honestly claim to have seen this film, so if you have, please do speak up!

5) Uncle Tom's Fairy Tales (Penelope Spheeris, 1968)
This satire on race relations, in which a white man is on trial for raping a black woman was, until recently, considered lost, and the story behind it is quite convoluted. The film, which stars Richard Pryor, was made while Spheeris was still in film school, and never had an official release. Over the years there have been multiple stories about its disappearance. One has it that Pryor halted production and destroyed the negative. Another version claims it was Pryor's wife who destroyed it, angry that he was paying more attention to it than to her. Regardless, Pryor sued Spheeris (and his daughter Rain) in 2005, claiming that the two of them stole his master copy back in the 80s and never returned it. Pryor initiated the lawsuit after scenes from the film were shown during his Directors Guild of America tribute. Spheeris later admitted she gave the footage to Academy Film Archive, though I'm unaware of the film's current status, or if the lawsuit was ever settled. 

6) Alex in Wonderland (Paul Mazursky, 1970)
Years ago, while sitting in a bar in Tokyo discussing Blake Edwards' S.O.B. with some friends, I was lectured by an inexplicably angry drunken cinephile who claimed that Edwards' film couldn't have existed if Mazursky hadn't "already blazed the path with this underappreciated masterpiece." Since that time I've foolishly missed several opportunities to see the film, but refuse to give up the quest. After the success of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice, Mazursky found himself at a loss for a follow-up, so he basically pulled an 8 1/2 and created this Hollywood spoof about a director unsure of his next project, with Donald Sutherland playing the auteur struggling to cope with his newfound success. Apparently, Fellini appears as himself in a cameo -- all the more reason I want to see it. 

7) Get to Know Your Rabbit (Brian De Palma, 1972)
I'm one feature shy of being able to call myself a De Palma completist, and this comedy about a businessman who gives it all up to become a tap-dancing magician is the one. Tom Smothers, Katherine Ross, Orson fricken' Welles, and Allan Garfield in the same movie? It's like a dream come true. I've always loved Dave Kehr's Chicago Reader review, where he refers to it as "A mess, but not intolerable." I'm still kicking myself for missing this at BAM earlier this year. 

NYFF Review: Wendy and Lucy

Much like her last film, Old Joy, Kelly Reichardt's Wendy and Lucy is another slice of minimalist indie-Americana that has been receiving rave reviews since its debut at Cannes, particularly for Michelle Williams' stirring lead performance. That I wasn't completely bowled over by the film has left me with an intangible sense of disquiet.

Admired critics and friends alike have been praising it to death, some going so far as to consider it the best American film of the year. While there's certainly much to admire about the film, I can't help but cling to the notion that there's something missing, and that it (at times) employs conventional tactics that weaken the work. 

Though Reichardt has stated that the film addresses the current economic crisis -- wherein millions of Americans are on the brink of unemployment and/or homelessness -- there's a certain timelessness to the story, and it could have easily been set in just about any point over the last hundred or so years. Wendy (Michelle Williams) and her faithful dog Lucy are traveling from Indiana to Alaska, where there's promise of work in a fish cannery. With just over $500 to her name, an unexpected breakdown of her Honda not only threatens her chances of making it to Palin country, but sets in motion a series of events that result in Lucy's disappearance.

From what little we learn about Wendy, Lucy appears to be her lone emotional companion, and the strength of her love is evinced early on in a scene where Lucy wanders off to a group of goth-hobos in the woods. Wendy appears to care less for her own safety than she does about whether or not they're planning on returning her dog. Wendy's willingness to place Lucy's needs over her own sets up their relationship as more mother and child than merely pet/owner, which is why I find the series of events that follows to be somewhat problematic. (Possible spoilers ahead.)

Caught shoplifting by a (natch) cross-wearing overly-sanctimonious teen employee results in Wendy being carted off by police, with Lucy left behind at the supermarket. Normally I roll my eyes at critics who get hung up on minor plot details, yet given that the arrest is what leads to Lucy's disappearance (and sets the rest of the film in motion), there's an implausibility to the scene that smacks of lazy screenwriting, especially considering the great efforts Reichardt made to establish the dynamic of their relationship. I agree that it sounds petty, yet it's inconsistent with her character, and even a bit nonsensical given the overall goodheartedness of the locals. (I won't get into details for those who haven't seen it.)

Wendy's quest to locate Lucy reveals just how deep the loss is, and Williams handles the growing desperation with remarkable subtlety. There are no "big moments" in her performance, and the accolades being heaped upon her are deserved. The problem once again is the screenplay, which increasingly begins to resemble something right out of McKee. The film's final third becomes overly formulaic; Wendy's actions feel less organic, as if dictated not by character, but by a need for script tidiness (replete with heart-tugging moments.) Yes, it's moving, but at the same time a tad forced and oddly unsatisfactory.

Like Ballast, Wendy and Lucy has a distinct Dardenne-esque vibe, and it contains both the bleak aesthetics and ardent humanism the Belgian brothers are famous for. (More than once I was reminded of Rosetta.) Unfortunately the similarities end there, and Wendy and Lucy, like Lance Hammer's overly-praised debut, is lacking in substantive content. At the same time, its all-too-conventional structure relies more on pathos than poignance -- it's more Old Yeller than Umberto D. Still, Reichardt's strong direction combined with Williams' pitch-perfect performance nearly overshadows its faults, which makes it that much more frustrating. Don't miss it.

Wendy and Lucy screens on Saturday 27 September at 9:30, and again on Sunday 28 September at 3:15. Tickets can be purchased here.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 17, Week 3

Thanks to UK extradition laws, Roman Polanski had to substitute France for England in his adaptation of high-school lit standard, Thomas Hardy's Tess. I loved all three-hours of the film when I saw it back in 1980, but then again that was the year my undying worship of Klaus' daughter began.

I watched the film before preparing the quiz, and I can't help but think that Nastassja simply isn't right for the part -- that she's too beautiful (and too Teutonic) to play Hardy's tragic heroine, described as a "fine and picturesque country girl, and no more." Let's not even get started on the accent. That said, Polanski's stripped-down approach, which pares the novel down to basically a character study by removing most of the melodramatic and moral elements of the source material, is what separates it from countless other adaptations of Victorian classics.

This week: things begin to get difficult. You'll have to brush up on your French actors and actresses to identify this one (from about fifty others). Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Benten Films at Independent Film Week

The 30th anniversary of IFP's Independent Film Week begins today, and for the first time Benten Films will be both attending and participating in this year's event.  Aaron and I have been invited as guests on two different panel discussions; on Tuesday, 16 September at 1:00PM, Aaron will be discussing Niche Marketing Tools, part of the Global Marketplace conference. On the following day, 17 September at 1:00PM, I'll be taking part in a discussion on Consumer Viewing Habits, moderated by Brent Hoff of Wholphin DVD magazine. Both of us are thrilled to be taking part, and we're looking forward to meeting with filmmakers, producers, and other members of the Indie film world, while trying to catch as many screenings as we can fit into our schedule. (New York Film Festival press screenings also begin this week!) If you're planning on attending, be sure to look us up, or shoot us an email at this address.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 17, Week 2

After a first half comprised of a sumptuous black and white love letter to Paris, Godard's In Praise of Love (Éloge de l'amour) switches to a saturated color flashback set on the Atlantic coast of Brittany, where representatives from Spielberg productions attempt to purchase the life story of two former resistance fighters. His best film in recent years, it's the one where he gets his digs in at Spielberg (and Hollywood in general) for making Schindler's List, and for the habit of treating history as a commodity.   

This week: maidens! In retrospect, I should have used this one for the inaugural week, for reasons that will be obvious as you look below (far too easy!) Here's a film that has no business being anywhere near Brittany, but the law's the law. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Critics vs. Bloggers, Chapter 387: The Cineaste Critical Symposium

Some months back, I was asked to participate in a symposium for Cineaste entitled, Film Criticism in the Age of the Internet. I was both honored and thrilled to have been asked, for I'm certainly no stranger to the subject. As those who know me well can attest, pour a few drinks in me and I'll blather on and on about it all night. The issue (Fall 2008) has finally gone to print and should be hitting newsstands any day now. (Perhaps subscription copies have been sent, for I've already received an extremely angry email about my Diablo Cody comment.)

Reading through all twenty-three pieces, it seems that the gap between the old guard and the new media is closing, but still has a way to go until completion. Even among the online-only critics there is that tendency to play the "I'm-getting-paid-for-it" hierarchy game. Oh well. The introduction to the piece mentions Armond White's tantrum from a few months back, and goes on to say that one goal of the symposium is to "chip away at some of the hyperbolic rhetoric exemplified by White's jeremiad." There's more than ample evidence contained within to disprove Armond's blanket charge of anti-intellectual pinheadedness.

Most of the old-school critics claim that they rely on the Internet more for research than for actually reading about film, yet there's still room for a bit of name calling (narcissists, bottom feeders) and to bring up the old chestnut about our not having editors. Still, all manage to find some good things to say about the blogosphere, and the only truly contentious comment comes from Amy Taubin, who claims that the Internet has marginalized traditional film culture. (There's a fascinating subject for debate!)

Time magazine's Richard Schickel's piece is probably the closest to being controversial in that he claims that, with the exception of James Agee, pre-1960 film criticism was "largely the work of dullards and time-servers." (Take that, Otis Ferguson!) Surprisingly, there are a few points where he and I are in complete agreement; namely that critical opinion no longer has the capacity to affect box-office receipts as it once did (a point I also raise in my piece), and, more importantly, that The Visitor is indicative of American independent's cinema's demise into "faux serious sentimentality." (Granted, that has little to do with the subject at hand, but I'm still getting beat up for my singling out the film in my screed on the dumbing-down of non-Hollywood films.) Schickel ends his piece with a provocative statement -- great criticism requires great art, and we're hardly in a golden age of cinema right now. I'll have to chew on that one for a while, but I do believe he might be on to something.

Of the critics whose rise predates the Net, Kent Jones, Jonathan Rosenbaum and Glenn Kenny are three who best understand (and have accepted) the changing dynamics as a result of this new democratization, and all three have much to say about the participatory nature of the medium.   

My humble contribution reiterates a point I've made elsewhere -- that all camps need to stop the finger pointing and band together to ensure that the art of genuine film criticism remains alive, particularly now that the syndicated capsule review and/or clever marketing piece has become the primary go-to resource for most people. Collectives such as The House Next Door are, in my opinion, the first step towards building a community with a commitment to the cause, as it were.

Yet for all the differing opinions on the subject, there is one thing nearly every participant agrees with -- without the tireless efforts of David Hudson at GreenCine, we'd all be running around the Net like a bunch of headless chickens.

Complete list of participants: Zach Campbell, Robert Cashill, Mike D'Angelo, Steve Erickson, Andrew Grant, J. Hoberman, Kent Jones, Glenn Kenny, Robert Koehler, Kevin B. Lee, Karina Longworth, Adrian Martin, Adam Nayman, Theodoros Panayides, Jonathan Rosenbaum, Dan Sallitt, Richard Schickel, Campaspe, Girish Shambu, Michael Sicinski, Amy Taubin, Andrew Tracy, Stephanie Zacharek.

Update: Girish alerted me that the entire symposium is now available online.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 17, Week 1

Welcome one and all to the seventeenth round of Filmbrain's weekly screen capture quiz, the all Brittany addition! No, not Snow or Murphy, but rather the place I've become so enamored with of late. So much so, that I've decided to build an entire round around the majestic landscapes and dramatic coasts of western France. I've managed to find nearly a dozen films in my collection (the remainder will have to be purchased), none too obscure, that were shot in the region. Naturally, many of the films will be French, but fear not Francophobes, for there are some non-Gallic surprises in there as well... 

A quick cut and paste of the rules for the newcomers: 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, I'll stick with tradition and throw out an easy one. If I'm not mistaken, this is the beach at Carantec at low tide. There haven't been too many films that that use color quite like this, so this shouldn't be too hard to suss out. Name this minor masterpiece. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck! 

Deux ou trois choses...

[NB: Internet access in my summer idyll was about as reliable as....well, something that's not terribly reliable. This was meant to have been posted days ago. My apologies.] 

Greetings from Finistère...or as it's known in its literal translation, the end of the world. Western France is nothing short of magical (did I really just type that?) and there's a part of me that possesses an overwhelming desire to stay. Peeking into a real estate office yesterday, I discovered that for about 300,000 Euro (less than the price of a shabby studio apartment in NYC) you can own a four-story, sixteen room chateau in the hills overlooking the bay of Morlaix. Benten France is beginning to sound like a wonderful idea....

But what about le cinema? While it's true that I can count the local movie houses on one hand, there's more to see than just Le Chevalier Noir. In fact, two upcoming New York Film Festival titles are currently playing -- Hong Sang-soo's Night and Day, and Ari Folman's Waltz With Bashir. Pas mal, non? I was too busy stuffing my face with various fruits de la mer to check out any of the cinematic offerings, but I did manage to catch a couple of films while in Paris. 

Though terribly jetlagged and outright exhausted, I dragged myself out on my first night to catch La Ronde de l'aube (aka The Tarnished Angels) which was playing as part of the Douglas Sirk: Prince of Melodrama retrospective at La Filmothèque du Quartier Latin. Having never seen it on the big screen, there was no way I could pass up an opportunity to catch this Faulkner adaptation in all its black-and-white cinemascope glory. I wasn't disappointed. The print was pristine, and much to my surprise (given that most of Paris had seemingly left for August holidays) the theater was booked solid with a mixture of hipster cinephiles and old-timers who remember it back from '58. The experience was almost ruined by my neighbor, a 50-ish professorial type who was continually pointing out Sirk's nuances to his companion, a young-enough-to-be-his-daughter "student" (who just happened to be nestling in his arms.) Fortunately he stopped after being shushed by about a dozen people, all of whom were no doubt jealous of their budding May-December romance. Aah, Paris. I mean...ick.

Sirk's darkly tragic existential tale of a heroic pilot (Robert Stack), his wife (Dorothy Malone), and a dedicated journalist (Rock Hudson) is far more psychologically complex than I remembered, and the swaggering machismo is priceless. (Stack offering up his wife for sixty minutes in exchange for a plane still manages to shock.)  On the way out of the theater, a slightly agitated woman asked me (in French) exactly what Sirk saw in Dorothy Malone, and why he would work with her after her terrible performance in Written on the Wind. A lack of confidence in my French combined with nothing to say on the matter resulted in a simple "Je ne sais pas" on my part. 

Two days afterwards I ventured into Gomorrah, the Cannes Grand Prize award winner. Admittedly, I had a tough time keeping up with the slang-heavy French subtitles, but I was notably impressed by what I managed to glean. Fortunately I'll have an opportunity to catch this in a few weeks at the NYFF.

Mike Leigh's latest film has also just opened, and I love the the title has been changed from the idiomatic Happy-Go-Lucky to the simple imperative Be Happy!

A brief note, unrelated to film. Americans in Paris. Crikey. I guess they're actively doing their part to keep the myth alive, if you know what I mean. Well done.

Finally, my trip to western France has inspired me to do an all-Brittany round for the forthcoming Screen Capture Quiz. I'm pretty confident I've got a dozen lined up. Check back Wednesday for week 1!

Happy Memorial Labor Day!