NYJFF ’15: The Go-Go Boys

Turning Superman into a bomb-banning peacenik was an idea destined to fail. Nobody should have understood that better than the men who brought the world the American Ninja franchise. Unfortunately, they got caught up in the deal and the predictable failure of Superman IV: the Quest for Peace spelled the beginning of the end for scrappy Cannon Films. The rise and fall of the self-made, 1980s defining moguls Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus are chronicled in Hilla Medalia’s The Go-Go Boys: the Inside Story of Cannon Films (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 New York Jewish Film Festival.

While working in his native Israel, Menahem Golan attained a level of international respect for films that combined popular appeal with critical respectability, such as his Oscar nominated Operation Thunderbolt. His first English language productions were not so successful, but he kept trying until he found the right formula. Indeed, formula would be the right word. With his cousin, Yoram Globus, Golan acquired Cannon Films, turning it into the little studio that could, by releasing a series of cheaply produced but highly satisfying action movies.

With a regular stable of stars that included Chuck Norris (including the Delta Force and Braddock: Missing in Action series), Charles Bronson (especially the Death Wish sequels), Michael Dudikoff (the American Ninja), and a Belgian waiter named Jean-Claude Van Damme Cannon became the action house of its era. Any guy who remembers the 1980s will have found memories of Cannon. When Golan and Globus respected their competitive advantages, they were wildly profitable. In fact, Cannon became notoriously successful pre-selling films they had not yet made (a standard practice these days), largely on the strength of the stars they had signed and a bankable concept.

Even dabbling in art cinema did not doom the Cannon empire. The same team behind Ninja III: the Domination (a longstanding fan favorite) also scored an Academy Award for foreign language film for the Dutch WWII drama The Assault. In some cases, they even leveraged distribution for prestige pictures with their signature action movies. Unfortunately, when the more artistically ambitious Golan convinced the fundraiser-extraordinaire Globus to start bankrolling traditional studio level budgets, the box office results were disastrous.

Anyone who loves martial arts films and B-movies will inhale Go-Go Boys. Medalia scored long in-depths sit-down interviews with the late Golan and the surviving Globus, even capturing their reunion after years of estrangement. She also talks to most of the principle supporting players, including a highly animated Van Damme and a more reflective Dudikoff. It is also nice to see Andrei Konchalovsky get his due as a Cannon artist (most notably for Runaway Train). However, the oversight of the late great cult action star Steve James, who played an important role in many iconic Cannon hits, is frankly inexcusable.

Clearly in retrospect, Cannon never should have never bothered with the middling middle ground. Their bread-and-butter action films like Avenging Force and Bloodsport still hold up to this day, while their art house releases, such as Norman Mailer’s Tough Guys Don’t Dance and Godard’s King Lear remain distinctive for their idiosyncrasies. For the most part, Medalia gives them their due in a breezily affectionate profile. Even though the absence of James will annoy fans, The Go-Go Boys is still recommended for cult film connoisseurs when it screens twice this Thursday (1/29) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: Natan

Bernard Natan (born Natan Tannenzaft) should have been the Louis B. Mayer of France and for a while he was. Unfortunately, a Jewish mogul helming the storied Pathé film studio was more than the French establishment could handle. With the help of a dubious “whistleblower” and an unfortunate secret in his past, the French media destroyed Natan’s reputation and largely erased him from the cinema history books. David Cairns & Paul Duane defend the groundbreaking producer from malicious slander and historical neglect in their expressionistic documentary Natan (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Since Natan lived in 1930s France and his doc was selected by the NYJFF, you can probably guess why he is not capable of defending himself. He did indeed perish in a German concentration camp, after the French authorities eagerly deported him, but there is far more to the story than that.

Natan was a Romanian Jew, who became a naturalized French citizen after honorably serving his adopted country in WWI. He had an instinctive affinity for motion pictures, scuffling his way from a projectionist and lab technician to a scrappy mini-magnate, who acquired the famous Pathé brand when Charles Pathé decided to liquidate rather than deal with the advent of sound. Unfortunately, while he was still a desperately poor immigrant, Natan was convicted of peddling dirty movies. Much will be made of this later, to the detriment of Natan’s historical standing.

Even though it is the last thing Natan would probably want, his docu-exoneration will make you despise the French. It will not do much for most viewers’ estimation of film historians either, particularly those that specialize in “stag films.” Frankly, as screenwriter, Cairns thoroughly persuades the audience to consider Natan a mid-Twentieth Century Job, who was done wrong by nearly all quarters.

Especially mind-blowing is the role of a rather unsavory figure named Robert Dirler, who wormed his way onto the Pathé board to undermine Natan, despite his criminal record and suspicious German connections. That last part gives one pause, does it not? To their credit, Cairns & Duane do not overplay the conspiracy card, but the shadowy Dirler clearly merits further research.

The film also uses various stylistic strategies that are likely to be divisive. Cairns & Duane often depict exaggerated re-enactments from Natan’s life, featuring the producer with a large papier-mâché head, largely modeled on National Socialist propaganda, including a famous exhibit in occupied Paris, prominently featuring Natan. It is somewhat distractingly surreal at times, but there is an underlying point to it. In fact, it makes Natan considerably more distinctive visually than most documentaries.

The eerily sensitive score by Irish Alt band Seti the First further distinguishes the production. Cairns & Duane also incorporate plenty of clips from Natan’s acknowledged classics, such as Marco de Gastyne’s La Merveilleuse Vie de Jeanne d’Arc, but aside from Serge Bromberg (admittedly quite the fitting expert commentator), the French cinema establishment is largely absent. It just makes them look all the worse. In a mere sixty-seven minutes, the film assembles a damnably convincing case that inspires rage and sorrow in equal measure. Anyone who takes cinema seriously as an artistic and commercial endeavor really should see it. Highly recommended, Natan screens twice this Wednesday (1/28) at the Walter Reade Theater (with How to Break Into Yiddish Vaudeville) as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: The Tugendhat House

Mies van der Rohe’s Seagram Building might be an exemplar of International style architecture, but its glass and steel basically are what they are. That is often the case with his American work, but the Villa Tugendhat in Brno is something else entirely. While it still reflects his modernist aesthetic, it also happens to a house that breathes and welcomes occupants. It is a surprisingly livable space, which is why it has been consistently repurposed by subsequent appropriating regimes. Dieter Reifarth chronicles the history of the home and its original [rightful] owners in The Tugendhat House (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Jewish Film Festival.

Reifarth opens the documentary by opening up Tugendhat House, slowly panning through its restored rooms and open flowing spaces, as disembodied voices read the polarized reviews it originally garnered in the architectural press. The Tugendhats no longer reside here, thanks to the National Socialists and the Communists who followed them, but philosopher Ernst Tugendhat fondly remembers the years he lived there as a small boy. So does one Tugendhat sister, but the youngest was born while the family was in exile. However, the entire Tugendhat-Guggenhein-Hammer family takes an active interest in the restoration campaign, including one  who happens to be a refurbishment expert.

Although they lost many extended family members to the Holocaust, the Tugendhat nucleus managed to get out while the getting was good, resettling in Switzerland and later Venezuela. Given their sensibilities, it is rather remarkable the Tugendhat House survived the Nazi and Soviet occupations. While the Germans simply used it as another piece of prime real estate to dole out as they deemed fit, the Communist authorities fashioned it into a long-term children’s spinal clinic. Frankly, the Tugendhat form seems completely ill-suited to such a function, but former patients found the natural light quite cheerful. Decades later, the final divorce decree between the Czech and Slovak Republics was ironed out there, permanently fixing the building in the Czech collective memory.

T House is an unusually balanced fusion of architectural appreciation and sweeping history. If you don’t know Ludwig Mies van der Rohe from Ludwig von Mises you might find many passages of the film rather archi-geeky. Nevertheless, Reifarth really gives you a vivid sense of the villa as a distinctive space and place. He also doggedly follows the twists of the Tugendhat family story, as well as the wider cultural context of their increasingly iconic home.

After watching T House, the Villa Tugendhat will almost assuredly become viewers’ favorite Mies van der Rohe building, which may or may not be thunderous bragging rights given their respective interest in the art and practice of architecture, but that still means it is rather smart and effective as a work of documentary filmmaking. Of course, for those who are well versed in Mies van der Rohe and the International School, it is like catnip. Yet everyone should find some meaning in the tragedies and resiliency of the Tugendhats’ exile experience. Highly recommended for those fascinated by the art and history under discussion, The Tugendhat House screens this coming Wednesday (1/28) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of the 2015 NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: Angels of Revolution

As envisioned by Alexey Fedorchenko, the real life Polina Schneider is something like the mythical heroines of the French Resistance. She is an action figure and an artist, who can juggle legions of lovers while remaining faithful to her leftist ideology. Unfortunately, her latest assignment will end badly when she tries to win over the indigenous people of western Siberia with avant-garde Soviet art and theater in Fedorchenko’s Angels of Revolution (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Jewish Film Festival.

Schneider has the dash of Amelia Earhart, the crack marksmanship of Lara Croft, and the politicized artistic soul of Simone Weil. Her Soviet masters are confident she can stem the discontent brewing among the Khanty people and perhaps spilling over into the neighboring Nenet. In his infinite generosity, Stalin has built the town of Kazym, complete with a boarding school, where indigenous children forcibly attend classes, but are forbidden from using their native tongues.

To reach their hearts and minds, Schneider and her four male colleagues will build atheist monuments and stage ridiculous pageants. While their revolutionary spirits are willing, it seems their artistic talents are inadequate for the task at hand. If you think you know where this is all heading, you are probably right, but Fedorchenko keeps the bloodshed not wholly off-screen, but mostly confined to the far corner of the field of vision.

It also hardly helps that he does everything possible to chop and dice his narrative, incorporating needlessly whimsical intertitles and injecting highly stylized interludes. This is a fascinating yet under-reported historical incident that would be better served by a more straight forward approach. Still, despite its rather scattershot nature, Angels represents a considerable rebound for Fedorchenko after his excessively sketchy and overly precious Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari. In contrast, Angels has a pointed perspective and it very definitely builds to something significant. Rather than one powerful indictment of the Stalinist era, it is more like a half dozen little nibbling critiques.

Regardless, with his largely sympathetic treatment of the Khanty and Nenet, Fedorchenko has established himself as the leading cinematic chronicler of Russia’s ethnic minorities, following his earthy but lightweight ode to the Mari and the austere but surprisingly moving Silent Souls, featuring the Merjan Russians. Fedorchenko and his co-art director Artem Khabibulin also brilliantly recreate the Soviet constructivist madness of the era.

When Angels works, it is absolutely inspired, but when it gets bogged in its own affectations, it can get stuck noodling about for a while. Consequently, it is dramatically uneven (featuring intentionally stiff, ironically intentional propaganda-like performances), but its ambition, historical honesty, and ironic sensibility pulls it through. Recommended with mild aesthetic reservations, Angels of Revolution screens twice this coming Tuesday (1/27) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of the 2015 NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: Forbidden Films

You have to wonder if Nicki Minaj’s Nazi propaganda-inspired video is even legal in Germany. If not, it might find a place in the vault where archivists store the National Socialist films considered so incendiary they remain barred from public screenings and above-board distribution. It is there Felix Moeller begins Forbidden Films (trailer here), a documentary survey of banned Third Reich cinema which screens during the 2015 New York Jewish Film Festival.

The explosive nitrate film stock the wartime filmmakers used makes “explosive” metaphors too easy. Given its inherent instability, the storage unit was deliberately constructed facing a large land berm to absorb the shock, should it ever ignite. Recalling the vibe of Into Eternity, documentarian Michael Madsen’s excursion to the underground nuclear by-product holding facility Onkalo, these are arguably the best scenes of Forbidden. Unfortunately, they are soon dispensed with.

Most of the documentary consists of brief analysis of banned films representative of particular propaganda categories and a subjective determination of their lasting potency, often involving rare public screenings, under strictly controlled circumstances. The result is a strange mishmash that almost approaches a hate propaganda installment of the That’s Entertainment franchise.

Moeller breaks samples of the forty remaining prohibited films down into broad themes, such as the gloriousness of war, the supposed villainy of Poles, and the dehumanization of Jews. Granted, just about everyone who sees Veit Harlan’s Jew Süss (the subject of Moeller’s better, previous doc) is disturbed by its naked anti-Semitism and the uncomfortable effectiveness of its dramatic manipulations. However, Moeller is clearly conflicted how to handle audience attempts to defend Wolfgang Liebeneiner’s I Accuse, an ardent euthanasia advocacy film that especially pleased Goebbels precisely because it normalizes the killing of the weak. These viewers cry out to be challenged, but Moeller just punts it away to the next thematic section.

Moeller might think he is plumbing the depths of the German soul, but Forbidden is really rather shallow. For all its purported concern over neo-Nazi groups it never examines the precipitous rise in anti-Semitism in Europe, in part driven by immigration from the Islamic world, or questions how these films might play to non-European audiences. Nor does it get into the deeper wonky details on the Denazification of most of the twelve hundred some films made during the National Socialist era, some of which were musicals and romantic comedies that merely required a swastika to be edited out here and there.

Not nearly as thorough as it should be, Forbidden Films is far from a must-see at this year’s NYJFF (check out the far superior Natan instead). Of course, for those perversely fascinated by National Socialist propaganda, who are also tired of re-watching Minaj’s “Only” video, it is the only game in town, flawed though it is. It screens this Thursday (1/22) and next Sunday (1/25) at the Walter Reade Theater.

NYJFF ’15: The Zionist Idea

Israel is the only nation in the Middle East that guarantees religious freedom, respects the human rights of women and the LGBT community, and protects the environment. Naturally, the UN therefore condemned it, or rather the idea that led to its founding, as “racist” in what the late Daniel Patrick Moynihan witheringly described as a “great evil.” As a result, the concept of Zionism has been misunderstood and deliberately mischaracterized for decades. To some extent, Joseph Dorman & Oren Rudavsky supply the historical, political, and cultural context to better understand the maligned movement in the epic-long (by documentary standards) The Zionist Idea, which screens during the 2015 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Obviously, Twentieth Century Zionism and the founding of the State of Israel are tragically linked to the Holocaust. However, European Jewry were never safe from pogroms and repression. Indeed, that is still clearly the case today, as is only too clear in the wake of the French Kosher supermarket hostage crisis. There was good reason why Theodor Herzl and Chaim Weizmann concluded a Jewish homeland was essential for their survival as a people.

Dorman, Rudavsky, and their extensive battery of historians do a fine job of chronicling the birth of the Zionist movement as we now know it, but Richard Trank’s It is No Dream: the Life of Theodor Herzl offers a more in-depth and cinematic treatment. Likewise, Trank’s subsequent The Prime Ministers: the Pioneers and Roberta Grossman’s forthcoming Above and Beyond more compellingly document the nascent state’s desperate fight against the invasions of its surrounding neighbors.

Yet, in a weird way, Zionist Idea perfectly illustrates the humanist values of Israel, by bending over backwards to cater to every conceivable critic of Zionism. If you blame Zionism for the bad service you received in a Tel Aviv beachfront bar, Dorman and Rudavsky will give you your say. Unfortunately, they are not as accommodating with the West Bank settler movement, so viewers really ought to check out Dmitriy Khavin’s The Territory for balance.

Nevertheless, the level of scholarship collected in Zionist Idea is certainly impressive, particularly the commentary and personal recollections of historians like Mordechai Bar-On and Hillel Halkin. While the style of presentation is rather conventional, the seriousness of the subject rings through in each and every sequence, making certain blind-spots, like the historic Taba concessions and the Second Intifada, all the more frustrating.

Through the sheer volume of its one hundred sixty minute running time, Zionist Idea encompasses quite a bit of valuable history and intellectual debate. Yet, just like the nation of Israel, the film tries to be compulsively fair to its possible detractors. As a result, the final film feels somewhat timid and overly apologetic, especially in light of recent events, which only reconfirm the Zionist contentions. Impressive in scope, The Zionist Idea is still difficult to recommend without considerable reservations when it screens this Thursday (1/22) and next Monday (1/26) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of this year’s NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: The Polgar Variant

Grandmaster Judit Polgár was like a female analog of Gary Kasparov. She had an aggressive attack on the chessboard and her Hungarian Jewish family had its share of trouble with the Communist regime. However, she also had two sisters who were nearly as good as she was. Yossi Aviram chronicles the Polgár Sisters’ unique training and unprecedented success in the male-dominated chess world in The Polgar Variánt, which screens during this year’s New York Jewish Film Festival.

László Polgár resolved to home-school his three daughters at a time when the Hungarian government rather frowned on such anti-socialist behavior. Undeterred, he was convinced he could train Susan (or Zsuzsa), Sofia, and Judit to be geniuses in a predetermined field. He chose chess, because of its prestige within the Soviet Bloc. To an extent, it worked. All three sisters racked up impressive victories in international women’s tournaments, but they wanted to compete against men in more highly esteemed competitions. The Hungarian chess authority did not just disagree with their ambitions, they put their careers on hold for several years.

Clearly, as the oldest, Susan Polgár paid the highest price. However, by the time their ban was lifted, Judit Polgár was poised to explode on the chess scene. So did their chess careers provide full satisfaction and vindication for their father? Probably in large measure yes, but maybe not entirely so. After all, their lives would become complicated, despite their sheltered early years.

Even though the narration is a bit severe, Variant provides a fascinating look inside the exclusive world of competitive chess. Notably, all the relevant Polgárs participated in Aviram’s film, including the three sisters, their father, and endlessly supportive mother Klára, who at one time was fired from her school teacher position, under suspicious circumstances.

Happily, it seems all three Polgár Sisters have more important things in their lives than chess, thoroughly contradicting the stereotype of the socially under-developed, myopic chess master. Still, Aviram is perhaps a bit unfair to Gary Kasparov, who was admittedly somewhat chauvinistic when the Polgárs first crashed the men’s tournaments, but subsequently revised his opinions. This seems particularly unfortunate, given his role as the leading advocate of human rights and democratic reform in Russia today (his Twitter feed is a must follow for anyone interested in the contemporary state of organized chess and Russian politics).

Regardless, Aviram tells the sisters’ story with authority and economy, conveying a vividly drab sense of Kádár-era Hungary and the neurotic tension of competitive chess. Recommended rather highly, The Polgár Variant screens this Thursday night (1/15) and next Thursday afternoon (1/22) at the Walter Reade Theater, as part of the 2015 NYJFF.

NYJFF ’15: The Muses of Isaac Bashevis Singer

To date, Isaac Bashevis Singer is one of twenty-three winners of the Nobel Prize for literature published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. He had the right publisher, but finding the right translator was a trickier proposition. Evidently, it helped if they were women. The ambiguous relationships Singer shared with his translators are explored in Asaf Galay & Shaul Betser’s The Muses of Isaac Bashevis Singer (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Jewish Film Festival.

Singer was a prolific writer, trained to produce regular installments of serialized novels in Yiddish newspapers like The Forward. However, he was also keenly aware of his place in the literary canon and the importance of quality English translations for international recognition, most definitely including the Nobel Prize. Consequently, he was rather hands-on when it came to worker with his various translators. Since they largely tended to be women, he also enjoyed their company. In just what way varied from translator to translator.

Nine such translators survived to reminisce about Singer and each had a different relationship with the Yiddish writer. By all accounts, it is safe to say his wife Alma was a very tolerant woman. Yet, arguably Muses’ biggest scoop is its analysis of the translations themselves, suggesting Singer consciously watered down some of the earthier elements of his work for English readers, in order to make it more respectably for the literary establishment.

Muses captures the unlikely intersection of the established New York cultural world and the remnants of Singer’s Old World Yiddish universe. It is highly literate and deliberately targeted to an elite audience, bless its heart. There is a bit of an attempt to survey Singers oeuvre, but it assigns wildly uneven weights to respective works. Probably Yentl, the short story and subsequent Broadway play gets disproportionate attention because it was later adapted for the big screen by Barbra Streisand, (a name that will be unfamiliar to younger readers but was once relatively famous for covering show tunes).

If you have read Singer, Muses will be a fascinating but respectful glimpse into his authorial business. It is mostly quite wry, but it has its wistful moments, including a quiet little revelation of a conclusion that perfectly caps the film. Respectfully recommended for well-read audiences, The Muses of Isaac Bashevis Singer screens twice this Wednesday (1/14), as part of the 2015 NYJFF.