SFIFF ’16: The Bandit

He was the man who created Burt Reynolds’ most popular movie character, Bo Darville. You might remember his C.B. handle, “Bandit.” Hal Needham broke almost every bone in his body as a Hollywood stuntman. He had the right look and frankly the right swagger to double Reynolds, but that was only the start of their long and fruitful association. Their friendship and the making of their most iconic film are chronicled in Jesse Moss’s The Bandit (clip here), which screens as the closing night film of the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

It was really unprecedented for a stunt performer like Hal Needham to make the transition to directing, even if he was the highest paid stunt double, as he once claimed to be. Of course, nearly anything was possible with a star of Reynolds’ magnitude in his corner. Unless you lived through the 1970s, it is hard to believe just how wildly popular Reynolds was at the time, even though his films were roundly disparaged as the dogs that they were.

Moss captures the tenor of those times quite well. Evidently, when Needham was temporarily at loose ends, he moved into Reynolds’ bachelor pad-mansion and stayed on for years, very much like James Caan in the Playboy Mansion. Of course, Needham and Reynolds were also good old boys at heart. It was that sensibility that led to Smokey and the Bandit.

Given the personalities involved—and they certainly were characters—one would expect the Smokey shoot would be a rather rambunctious one. Indeed, the surviving cast and crew have plenty of satisfactorily colorful anecdotes. However, the strange pleasure of The Bandit is the way it immerses us in a time capsule of an era now deliberately misunderstood and forgotten. Remember when it was nearly impossible to find Coors Beer on the East Coast? Remember when Reynolds was an item with the fifty-two year-old Dinah Shore and then Sally Field (the daughter of a stuntman)?

From the vantage point of 2016, vintage Needham comes across so much cooler than Reynolds at the peak of his fame. The former just seems to exude a natural hipness that will never go out of style, despite his uber-70’s wardrobe. In contrast, Reynolds looks like he is trying to be of his moment. Regardless, the movies they made were a lot of fun. Moss’s doc will definitely give viewers the urge to binge watch the Bandit movies, the Cannonball Run movies, and Hooper, but probably not Stroker Ace, because that was pretty terrible.

You can’t beat nostalgia like this. Partly a story of friendship, partly the Smokey and the Bandit making-of, and all awesome, The Bandit screens this Thursday (5/5) as the closing night selection of this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival.

SFIFF ’16: NUTS

They won’t tell you this at the Grand Ole Opry, but the commercial development of Country music was greatly supported by goat . . . glands. “Dr.” J.R. Brinkley was the man who recognized the untapped potential of both. Penny Lane (yes, that is her given name) chronicles the up-and-down life of Brinkley, the pioneering broadcaster and purported infertility specialist in the subtly titled NUTS (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Brinkley’s rise from mean circumstances was so unlikely, even Horatio Alger wouldn’t believe it—perhaps with good reason. As the narrated passages of his authorized biography explain, the young hayseed was laughed out of medical schools because he was so scruffy. Yet, the diploma-ed-up Brinkley would eventually set up practice in Milford, Kansas, where destiny was waiting for him. When a patient suffering from “dysfunction” requested a little of vim and vigor from the Billy-goat they could hear going about his business outside, Brinkley obliged, because why not? When the man’s wife soon found herself in a family way, frustrated men from around the country soon flocked to Milford for Brinkley’s gland transplant surgery (it was really just a slice he was inserting, mind you).

Obviously, the man who developed goat transplant surgery was no dummy, but Brinkley also recognized the powerful possibilities of radio at a presciently early stage. He founded the nation’s fourth radio station right there in Milford, making it a home for all the “hillbilly” music proper stations would never play, as well as an advertising venue for his assorted treatments and cures. Eventually, the FCC shut him down, at much the same time the AMA revoked his license. Yet, a man like Brinkley would not be deterred from such setbacks. He simply went down to Mexico and founded XERA, the original “Border Blaster” that would become the storied home of artists like the Carter Family and opened a new clinic a stone’s throw away in Texas.

So did the gland transplants actually work? Hell no, they didn’t, but Lane will initially have viewers wondering. NUTS is in fact a deliciously subversive film that sets up the Brinkley legend and then knocks it down, using his own words (or those of his hand-selected biographer) each time. Arguably, NUTS is also a rather timely film, in an almost tragically bizarre way. Running as a populist candidate that combined the worst of Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump, Brinkley ran a nearly successful write-in campaign for Kanas governor based on demagogic class warfare themes.

Using sly animation and ironically cornpone narration, Lane treats Brinkley’s story with the gentle mockery it cries out for. It is rather fitting that Brinkley incubated country music, because his aptitude for self-reinvention is pure Americana. Yet, Lane also captures the Shakespearean dimensions of his inevitable fall. It would be impossible to make Brinkley dull, but her stylistic choices kick it up several notches further. Very highly recommended, NUTS screens this Friday (4/29) and Saturday (4/30), as part of this year’s SFIFF.

SFIFF ‘16: Radio Dreams

Pars Radio is sort of like a Farsi-language WKRP, but more existential. On most days, the esteemed literary-émigré program-director Hamid Royani has carte blanche to present the sort of elite broadcasts for the Bay Area Iranian-American community that interest him. However, this is not an ordinary day. Metallica will be coming to Pars to jam with the Afghan rock band Kabul Dreams, whose cause they have championed. The eccentric station owner’s business-minded daughter Maral refuses to let them squander this commercial opportunity. This inevitably leads to conflict in Babak Jalali’s Radio Dreams (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Yes, Metallica is coming, but their “people” were never very clear about when. That generates even more stress and uncertainty for the Pars staff. While there does seem like there is a Beckett-like “Waiting for Metallica” element to the film, it should be admitted up-front as a not very spoilery spoiler that the good sport Lars Ulrich does indeed show up in advance of the rest of the band and do right by the musicians of the real life Kabul Dreams. As a result, Radio Dreams might be the most commercial quietly observational Farsi dramedy since who knows when.

The real conflict in the film is the veritable fight for the station’s soul and financial health waged by Royani and Maral. He continues to program poetry, short story readings, and naval gazing essays in the worst tradition of NPR with perverse determination, while the latter would like to pay the bills. As everyone waits for the two bands to arrive, the Pars broadcasts seesaw between his low key classiness and the jarringly brash commercials paid for by her brand new sponsors.

Until the bands start to jam, the film is nearly as soft-spoken as one of Royani’s poetry recitals. However, he is an extraordinarily compelling figure to watch on screen. Played by Mohsen Namjoo (often referred to as “the Bob Dylan of Iran”), Royani radiates sad dignity. He has no problem with Metallica or Kabul Dreams, mind you, but interviewing the reigning Iranian American beauty queen clearly rubs him the wrong way.

As Maral, Boshra Dastournezhad goes toe-to-toe with Namjoo, never giving any ground. She certainly has presence and quite a withering stare. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the passive station personnel are largely overshadowed by the intensity of these two polar opposites. However, Ulrich could earn quite a few Farsi-speaking fans for Metallica with his energizing appearance.

Jalali’s approach might almost be too reserved for his own good, but the fatalistic vibe he nurtures is unusually distinctive. Indeed, it is an unflaggingly literate and gently ironic film. Recommended for patrons of Iranian diasporic cinema and the top one percent of Metallica fans, Radio Dreams screens this Thursday (4/28) and Friday (4/29), as part of this year’s SFIFF.

SFIFF ’16: Very Big Shot

We all realize there is no shortage of narcotics in Hollywood, but the Lebanese film business is a different matter. Yet, the film Ziad is producing would not exist without illicit drugs. Technically, it still doesn’t exist, strictly speaking, but a lot of people will get worked up over it. It is all about those cans of film that get waved through customs unopened in Mir-Jen Bou Chaaya’s Very Big Shot (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

At Ziad’s pizzeria, the “special” comes with a bonus topping on the side: cocaine. He is the oldest of three brothers and also the most ambitious and temperamental. When Ziad accidently caps a rival in a drug-related scuffle, the youngest brother Jad takes the fall, knowing he will get a shorter sentence as a minor. When he is released, Ziad has a surprise for him: a major shipment of designer amphetamines. He was supposed to deliver them to his contact in Syria, who was then supposed to eliminate Ziad, but the pizza baker rather violently side-stepped the trap. Naturally, he took their shipment for his troubles—and no, this will not sit well with his former employers.

Regardless, Ziad and Jad are determined to make a big score. They just need to get the pills out of the country. Inspiration arrives from the unlikeliest source: Charbel, a deadbeat customer who fancies himself an independent filmmaker. In Charbel’s current documentary, Georges Nasser (the first Lebanese filmmaker accepted at the Cannes Film Festival and a consultant on VBS) explains how an Italian movie crew once tried to smuggle drugs out of Lebanon in film canisters. They just attracted suspicion because they were never seen shooting any film. Ziad will not repeat that mistake.

Bou Chaaya and co-writer-co-star Alain Saadeh start with a solid, potentially madcap premise, but they bury it under awkward tonal shifts and what feel-like local in-jokes that can’t possibly be expected to travel. Subplots, like middle brother Joe’s affair with Charbel’s pretty actress-wife Alia wither on the vine. It also seems like the Lebanese mafia is unusually patient when a significant drug shipment goes astray.

Still, there is no question Saadeh has real starpower and impressive range. As Ziad, he turns on a dime from gritty action scenes to deadpan comedy. It would not be surprising if he started popping up in French films, given VBS’s already considerable festival play. Alexandra Kahwagi is also terrifically tart and droll as Alia. Wissam Fares and Tarek Yaacoub are both fine as Jad and Joe, but the latter really gets lost in the shuffle.

VBS is inconsistent in almost all respects, but it has been a hit throughout the region, so it seems like an early favorite for Lebanon to submit to the Academy Awards. There is also something intriguing about its rough edges and erratic demeanor. Mostly recommended for those who follow Middle Eastern cinema, Very Big Shot screens again this coming Friday (4/29) and Sunday (5/1), as part of the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

SFIFF ’16: The White Knights

The line between humanitarianism and human trafficking is hardly what you would call “fine.” there is a big, fat demarcation there. Yet somehow the NGO Zoe’s Ark still had trouble keeping on the right side. Their “enthusiastic” efforts to place orphans with French families remains controversial in both Chad and France. Their fictional analog, Move for People, will get some of benefit of the doubt. Even so, the paving on road to Hell is still the same as it ever was. Even if they had good intentions, they certainly make an appalling mess of things in Joachim Lafosse’s The White Knights (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

When Move for People’s Jacques Arnault arrives in-country, his top priorities are “acquiring” orphans five-years-old or younger from the surrounding village chiefs and securing air transportation out of the country. It almost seems like he foresees a need to leave in a hurry. Nevertheless, he has approved the presence of an embedded journalist to document their work. Of course, he neglected to tell her the organization is facing an official investigation in France. That little tidbit she learns from her editor after settling in at the NGO’s compound.

The irony (really, one of several) is Arnault’s scheme would not be so bad if the chief’s more scrupulously followed their instructions. Unfortunately, we soon suspect many parents have been convinced to give up their children so they can receive medical treatment and an education, with the expectation they can readily be visited.

There is plenty of blame to go around in this ripped-from-the-headlines morality play, starting with the NGO, but also including the chiefs and villagers, as well as the journalist who largely succumbs to Arnault’s gruff charm. He is played by Vincent Lindon, so it is hard to judge her too harshly. What is really shocking is how true-to-life the narrative is. Frankly, White Knights could be used as an infomercial for Guidestar and other non-profit watchdogs.

Lindon does his thing, blustering and bullying those who start to doubt, while tearing up when talking to prospective adoptive parents on the phone. The duality of his persona well suits Lafosse’s equivocal tone. Even when the bottom completely falls out of Move for People’s scheme, it is still hard to judge their intentions with certainty.

White Knights is the sort of ensemble piece that is best served by actors blending in rather than standing out. In that respect, it is remarkable to see Louise Bourgoin (so glamorous in The Girl from Monaco) disappear into the role of Laura Turine, Arnault’s ardent worker bee deputy. However, Reda Kateb brings some edge as their fixer, Xavier Lipert.

Even with the prominent names attached to White Knights, its jaundiced view of NGO do-goodery will not likely endear it critics and art-house programmers. It is just too subtle and challenging. Indeed, there is absolutely nothing simplistic about it. Recommended for Francophiles and internationalist skeptics, White Knights screens tomorrow (4/25), Wednesday (4/27), and Friday (4/29), as part of this year’s SFIFF.

SFIFF ’16: Cast a Dark Shadow

Communication is important in a marriage, even if you are a gold-digging adventurer. Just ask Edward “Teddy” Bare. Upon learning his much older, richer wife was about to sign a new will, he helped the old dear to her eternal rest. Alas, the dearly departed Monica “Mony” Bare wanted to cut him in rather than out of the money. Bare finds himself in a tight financial spot, but he assumes his smarmy charm will continue to provide in Lewis Gilbert’s digitally restored British noir, Cast a Dark Shadow (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

Bare is no gentleman, that’s for sure. Therefore, Mony’s snobby attorney Phillip Mortimer immediately suspects he staged her accident, which of course he did. Inconveniently, he stands to inherit dashed little under the terms of the original will. To make matters worse, he seems to have had a genuine affection for his late wife. In fact, his du Maurier-esque devotion to her memory will further complicate his second marriage to Freda Jeffries.

Jeffries is no Mony, that’s equally clear. She got her money marrying-up and she aims to keep it. Yet, despite her street-smarts, she fell for Bare and she is still swoony for him, in her own tough-talking way. When Bare befriends yet another single lady of means, it brings out her jealous nature. However, Bare will not let that deter him from Charlotte Young’s money.

It is rather baffling that Shadow is not more universally and volubly beloved by film noir fans, because it is a nifty little Deathtrap-style thriller. John Cresswell’s adaptation of the stage play Murder Mistaken by Janet Green (who would later serve as screenwriter on several of Dirk Bogarde’s “social issue” films) keeps the basic six-character, one-set structure, but opens it up a little. As a result, we get a night club scene featuring former Ted Heath band vocalist Lita Roza’s sly, swinging rendition of “Leave Me Alone.”

Bogarde played plenty of sociopaths in his career, but few were as sleazy good fun as Teddy Bare. He is clearly all kinds of off, but still perversely charismatic. Yet, Margaret Lockwood constantly calls and raises him as the brassy Jeffries. Mona Washbourne is indeed naively charming as dear old Mony, but Kathleen Harrison is a little cringey as Emmie, the easily manipulated housekeeper.

Jack Asher (who would become a regular early Hammer Horror cinematographer) gives it a wonderfully sinister noir look that should delight genre fans. Every piece of bric-a-brac perfectly sets the mood and gives us the right sense of place. Again, it just seems bizarre Cast a Dark Shadow does not get more love from the noir establishment. Highly recommended for anyone who appreciates classic cinema, it screens Saturday (4/23) and Sunday (4/24) during this year’s SFIFF.

SFFS ’16: Hong Kong Trilogy

Hong Kong is not just a business district. People really live there, as well as work there, but they still do not vote there, at least not in a meaningful way. Inspired by the 2014 Umbrella Protests, acclaimed expatriate cinematographer Christopher Doyle explores the hopes and anxieties of three generations of Hongkongers, through their own voice-over words in Hong Kong Trilogy: Preschooled Preoccupied Preposterous (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 San Francisco International Film Festival.

All three generations are defined by a common central conflict in their lives. Obviously, for twentysomething college students, it was the democracy demonstrations that were broken up with tear gas at the behest of the Mainland Communist Party, inadvertently proving the lack of political freedom in Hong Kong. However, the young grade schoolers are nearly as frazzled by the constant barrage of tutors and cram schools pushed on them by their parents. In contrast, many Hong Kong seniors still live with the repercussions of the long standoff with the Mainland that often separated lovers and family members. A diverse cross-section of average citizens will explain their perspectives to Doyle, in disembodied interviews, synched-up to match the speakers in-the-flesh, as they navigate the bustling city.

It is indeed tough to be a kid in Hong Kong, especially if you are bullied like the husky Vodka. Yet, somehow Little Red Cap (or Lip Ching-man as her parents named her) seems to make her own rules. Much to the astonishment of her photogenic teacher, Selena Cheung, Little Red Cap has indiscriminately adopted just about every major religion and regularly proselytizes for them all at school with equal fervor. It is hard to know what to make of her. She seems to come from a reasonably dysfunctional family of modest means that lives on a houseboat and appears willing to indulge her evangelical inclinations.

As a cinematographer, Doyle obviously notices when someone absolutely lights up the screen, because he often has the weird but charming Little Red Cap reappear in later sequences. Naturally, that is her making holy water deliveries to the Umbrella Square. The tent city was laid out in such an orderly fashion on the Admiralty plaza, mail was reportedly delivered to protestors’ tents. We meet the graphic artists documenting the movement and the one-generation-older hipster who opened an informal open mic club to showcase musicians affiliated with the movement. Unfortunately, its lack of proper licensing allows the cops to confiscate their beer whenever justice gets thirsty.

By far, the weakest and most self-consciously stylized segment focuses on the “preposterous” seniors who take speed-dating tours, in some cases hoping to fill a void in their lives that have been open for years. Even with the support of Little Red Cap, Teacher Selena, and her dead beat rapper boyfriend, “Preposterous” cannot match the energy and focus of “Preschooled” and “Preoccupied.” At least it starts strong with the former and devotes the most time to the latter.

Doyle’s approach is unnecessarily artificial, but many of his subjects are so compelling, they command our attention nonetheless. Even with the spotty third act, Doyle’s directly stated goal—that the world should start listening to Hong Kong’s marginalized younger and older generations—is quite laudable. What they have to say is absolutely worth hearing. Sometimes inspiring and sometimes a little strange, Hong Kong Trilogy is still highly recommended as a decidedly pointed yet idiosyncratic response to the harsh crackdown on the Umbrella Protests. It screens this Friday (4/22) and Monday (4/25), as part of this year’s SFIFF.