Slamdance ’19: Tijuana 1924 (pilot)

Carmen Sanchez is like the “Queen of the South” for tequila. Prohibition is on, which is a huge opportunity for an aspiring kingpin like Sanchez, especially since her husband has just been appointed chief of police. Of course, he thinks he is calling the shots in their liquor-running operation, but he is just kidding himself. The tequila will flow (across the border) in Mary-Lyn Chambers’ Tijuana: 1924, a prospective proof-of-concept pilot that screened at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Throughout the pilot, Sanchez explains to her wide-eyed daughter how easy it is to manipulate men like her husband, Manuel Sanchez (or any other man, for that matter). Like a crafty Lady Macbeth, she has prodded the new chief copper into betraying his former partners to corner the illicit tequila trade into the United States. She did not waste any time, prompting his betrayal before he could even enjoy her celebratory gala, where she will truly be in her element, flirting and working the room like a pro.

Frankly, the fifteen-minute pilot leaves viewers wanting more, but it certainly proves the concept. Carmen (originally Charlotte) Sanchez is an entertainingly crafty and seductive femme fatale. However, Chambers has yet to introduce a foil worthy of being her rival, but with all that tequila around, there must be a worm in there somewhere. Ilana Guralnik vamps it up in style, gliding about as the Tequila Queen. As Chief Sanchez, David “Blak” Placencia is tightly wound, but appropriately clueless and in-denial regarding his subservience to his ruthless wife, which is a tricky line to convincingly walk.

Tijuana’s potential commercial appeal is conspicuously obvious, combining elements of Narcos and the original La Reine del Sur with the Prohibition period productions, like The Untouchables. Presumably, Chambers was working within limited budget constraints, but the over-achieving pilot features some lush, well-appointed sets and a full swing orchestra at the Sanchez’s party (frankly, it sounds more like a band from the 30’s than the 20’s, but it is festive regardless). It looks great and sounds quite nice, but the real fun comes from Madame Sanchez’s shameless attitude and scenery-chewing. This one deserves a full series order. Recommended for fans of historical crime dramas, Tijuana: 1924 screened as part of the episodic showcase at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: Ski Bum—The Warren Miller Story

If Warren Miller were still alive, he probably would have blown off the debut of the documentary chronicling his life and career to hit the Park City slopes instead. When it came to the sport of skiing, he was the preeminent filmmaker, but he was also a four-walling pioneer. He built his annual ski movie road show into a tradition for hundreds of thousands of fans and served as an outreach evangelist for the sport in its early years. Patrick Creadon surveys his peaks and valleys in Ski Bum: The Warren Miller Story, which won the Best of Breakouts Audience Award at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

After an unhappy childhood and a brief stint in the Navy, Miller was ready for a life of adventure sans responsibility. He found it as a veritable ski bum. Although he was a complete beginner, his enthusiasm quickly propelled him into ski instructor positions. He started recording feats on the slope as an amateur videographer, quickly deciding to turn pro. Thus, was born Warren Miller Entertainment, which released its first film in 1949.

With one disastrous exception, Miller followed an event-driven four-walling model. Although he filmed professionals, has laidback narration made him the star of his films for scores of fans. Warren Miller films were an influence on Bruce Brown’s classic surfing doc, The Endless Summer and arguably supplied the foundation for the rise of extreme sports, but it was not always a bed of roses for Miller. In fact, his personal life was often a source of bitter disappointment.

It is about time Miller got his due. Fortunately, Creadon (probably best known for I.O.U.S.A., which incidentally makes us wonder what his thoughts might be regarding the explosion of our national debt over the past ten years) managed to record an extensive series of sit-downs with Miller prior to his death last year. He is a constant presence in the documentary, offering commentary on every development in his life-story. His candor is also quite notable—Miller never ducks anything, no matter how painful—and there are incidents that must still smart, such as the revelation his mother and sister were embezzling from him.

Frankly, Miller emerges as a highly sympathetic figure precisely because he owns up to the mistakes he made. Creadon also incorporates plenty of clips of the spectacular skiing that was a hallmark of Miller’s films (including some never seen before), but his real concern is Miller’s cultural influence. This is not a clips package. If you want to watch someone face-plowing down an exotic mountain, go see a Warren Miller film.

Miller’s work still holds up, but his life is probably even more compelling. Creadon’s profile should foster a solid appreciation of both among viewers, even those who have little or no experience with winter sports. Recommended for fans and anyone interested in early independent filmmaking, Ski Bum: The Warren Miller should have a long festival life, especially in mountainous states, following its award-winning premiere at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: Demolition Girl

It is good for high school kids to have jobs, because the employment experience teaches responsibility. Cocoa already happens to be plenty responsible, unlike her deadbeat father and even worse deadbeat brother. Unfortunately, her choice of employment will lead to trouble and scandal in Genta Matsugami’s Demolition Girl, which screened during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

It wasn’t Cocoa’s idea, but an old friend of her brother convinced her to appear in his foot-crushing fetish videos. Right, we’re talking about women’s feet stomping on things. She really doesn’t get it either, but the money is good and the work doesn’t take long. Those are both important factors, ever since she decided to take a shot at the national university entrance exams. She should be smart enough to pass, if she could study as much as her friends, but paying tuition and expenses will be another matter entirely. Of course, her lazy father and parasitical brother still expect to live off her.

Cocoa’s upbeat resiliency is quite appealing, but viewers will rightly suspect her method for earning quick money is not sustainable. When the shoes start to drop (so to speak), the film takes a decidedly dark turn. She can justly blame her brother’s friend, who unwisely started selling his videos through a gang of sleazy underworld thugs, but he really isn’t a bad guy. On the other hand, her brother is truly pond scum.

Aya Kitai was quite deservedly recognized with an Honorable Mention for the Slamdance Acting Award, because her performance will make your heart ache for Cocoa. We feel for her acutely, yet the remarkable thing about her portrayal specifically and Matsugami’s film in general is how uplifting it is, despite all the rotten things that happen. Somehow, her indomitable spirit lifts our own. She also forges believably grounded but very different kinds of rapport with her besties and the aspiring fetish filmmaker.

Matsugami’s DIY-style aptly suits the drabness of Cocoa’s depressed provincial town and the mean circumstances of her life. Everything in his film feels really real. Yet, Kitai lights up the digital screen. After watching Demolition, we sincerely hope Matsugami continues to tell Cocoa’s story, returning to her every so often, like François Truffaut did with his Antoine Doinel films. Yes, I’m dropping Truffaut’s name in a review of Demolition—honestly, Cocoa might just be even more emotionally engaging (even though Truffaut’s artistry was admittedly greater). Very highly recommended, Demolition Girl had its world premiere at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: The Vast of Night

It really was a weather balloon. If you doubt it, check out the articles in The Skeptical Inquiry debunking the Roswell UFO myth. It is a good story, but it is just a story. Nevertheless, the need to believe has made New Mexico ground zero for the flying saucer faithful. Apart from the Roswell rumor-mongering, New Mexico’s wide-open deserts and low population density make fictional Cayuga, NM a suitable location for paranormal goings-on in Andrew Patterson’s The Vast of Night, the plucky microbudget winner of the Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Vast of Night is ostensibly an episode of a 1950s science fiction anthology show called Paradox Theater that we start watching on a vintage black-and-white vacuum tube television, before the picture morphs into the evocatively washed out color of the characters’ world. Everett is a cocky high school student who works part-time for the local AM radio station. Everyone in town probably assumes he and Fay will eventually become a couple, but for now, they just bicker too much. Tonight, he is happily helping her get the hang of the new portable tape recorder she just ordered from Montgomery Ward.

Nearly everyone in town will be at the big high school basketball game, but he will be on the air at WOTW and she will be covering the town’s telephone switchboard. When reports of strange lights in the sky start to come in, the ambiguous couple will be able to coordinate their efforts to investigate. It turns out, something downright Roswellian might be afoot, based on claims of “Billy,” a former US Air Force officer, who calls into Everett’s show.

Frankly, it is shocking how well put together Vast is, especially given its extreme budget constraints. It is definitely one of the best looking, smartest written X-Files-esque films in decades. Patterson and cinematographer Miguel Ioann Littin Menz give it an intimate vibe with their claustrophobic long takes, but they also capture a sense of the lonely emptiness of the small town when their restless camera pans from one location to another during transitional scenes. Strange Invaders, the cult favorite from 1983, would be a logical comparison title, in terms of themes and vibe, but Vast is a far superior film.

The period details and visual effects are definitely impressive, but the chemistry between Sierra McCormick and Jake Horowitz, as Fay and Everett, respectively, is what really elevates Vast. They are terrific together and they both absolutely knock out of the park screenwriters James Montague & Craig W. Sanger’s long, knotty passages of dialogue. They also get first class support from the rest of the ensemble, including the pitch-perfect heard-but-not-seen Bruce Davis as Billy and Gail Cronauer, who holds viewers absolutely rapt as Mabel Blanche, another eye witness of sorts.

Vast of Night is a film you really should see in a darkened theater, because it would be a shame to let the distractions of mundane life break the spell Patterson and his actors cast over the audience. Granted, the story itself is hardly groundbreaking, but Patterson’s mastery of mood, the palpable sense of place, and the work of his two co-leads are really quite special. Very highly recommended, The Vast of Night should have a long life ahead of it with genre film fans, after winning the Audience Award at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: Roughly Delicate (short)

They could be characters in an Amy Tan novel, but with firearms. A group of Chinese immigrant women perform together in a traditional dance troupe and shoot together in their gun club. As a group, they develop camaraderie, physical coordination, a steady aim, and a sense of empowerment in Heqiuzi Wang’s fourteen-minute short documentary, Roughly Delicate, which screened during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

They are of various ages, but they are all Chinese immigrants. Their participation in the dance group conforms to our stereotypes, but their shooting outings probably do not. They obviously enjoy their time at the indoor range, because it is a bonding experience. However, there is also a serious side to it, as well.

During the course of the short film, it becomes clear two events have dramatically shaped their relationship to guns. One was the LA Riots, in which Korean grocers lost their stores to the fires, but largely protected life and limb because they were sufficiently armed. The other event was the Tiananmen Square massacre, which demonstrated the worst-case scenario when the state holds monopoly ownership of firearms.

Of course, with rights come responsibilities, so the Roughly Delicate women duly attend firearm training courses. Yet, ironically, the leader of their dance ensemble appears to be a much more demanding disciplinarian. Regardless, the shooting dancers are all very charming in a down-to-earth way and for the most part, seem quite happy here in America. Honestly, the NRA should recruit them as spokespeople—ASAP.

Wang takes a quiet, observational approach, yet Roughly Delicate dramatically upends clichés, while celebrating diversity. There are some important takeaways in her film, but it is also quite a pleasant experience to spend time her subjects. Very highly recommended, Roughly Delicate should be programmed by many free-thinking film fests, following its screenings at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance '19: Lost Holiday--Criminal Element

It's time to visit Slamdance with a couple of trouble-making out-of-town New Yorkers. Exclusive Criminal Element review of Lost Holiday is now up here.

Slamdance ’19: Memphis ’69

It was eleven years after the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival immortalized in Bert Stern’s Jazz on a Summer’s Day and ten years after the establishment of the Newport Folk Festival. The blues revival was well underway, but most of the appreciative audiences for the rediscovered blues legends were up north or in college towns. However, some of the greatest real deal blues artists came together in 1969 to play the Memphis Blues Festival (and mark the city’s sesquicentennial). Adelphi Records founder Gene Rosenthal documented the festival but his footage remained unseen for decades. Happily, the Rosenthal footage has been shaped and edited into Joe LaMattina’s concert film, Memphis ’69 (trailer here), which premiered during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

The comparison with Stern’s classic concert film is particularly apt, because they both vividly and slyly capture a sense of the mood of the crowd and the tenor of the time. However, 1969 Memphis was considerably grittier than 1958 Newport. In fact, the festival was held in the Overton Park Band Shell, where the Klan previously held rallies. That is a point that comes through loudly in the press materials, but the film wisely focuses on the music—and what music it is.

The Bar-Kays and Rufus Thomas come out swinging and the film never slows down. Straight-up legends like Bukka White, Nathan Beauregard, Sleepy John Estes with Yank Rachell, Furry Lewis, Son Thomas, Lum Guffin, Piano Red, and Mississippi Fred McDowell get full feature spots. Frankly, Johnny Winter (arguably the biggest star at the time) sounds rather tame in comparison.

Yet, one of the greatest pleasures in Memphis ’69 is rediscovering some of the rediscoverers, like multi-genre singer-songwriter John D. Loudermilk and soulful Sid Selvidge, who both kill their sets. Again, just like Summer’s Day, Memphis ’69 brings it on home with some old time gospel.

The quality, clarity, and historical significance of Rosenthal’s footage is just stunning. Blues fans will be blown away and non-fans will be converted. This film absolutely belongs on the same shelf as Summer’s Day and Monterey Pop. It is that good. Very highly recommended, Memphis ’69 screens again this Thursday (1/31), as part of this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: The Drone

This nightmare could have come straight from Amazon. The smart house is definitely a complicating factor, but the drone is the real villain. Somehow, a serial killer has transferred his consciousness into the pesky flying device and he is up to his old nasty habits in Jordan Rubin’s The Drone (trailer here), which premiered during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Just when the cops have the predator known as “The Violator” cornered, a bolt of lightning and some mumbled binary code zaps him into his peeper drone. Next time we see it, Chris the idiot photographer finds it while he and his wife Rachel are moving into their new suburban smart home. It is like the drone was just waiting for them. Rachel has a bad feeling about it, right from the start, but Chris is like a kid with a new toy.

Of course, the Violator drone quickly learns all their pins and codes and also starts gaslighting the family dog. Rachel immediately suspects it is doing mischievous things on its own, but Chris pooh-poohs her concerns, until the drone frames him for the murder of their cougar neighbor, Corrine.

Frankly, The Drone is even more ridiculous than it sounds, even though Rubin and the cast play it scrupulously straight (in contrast to his absolutely brilliant Zombeavers). Cult genre star Alex Essoe maintains her dignity as Rachel, but John Brotherton’s portrayal of Chris will give viewers a headache from all the forehead slapping and face-palming he causes. However, Anita Briem is an absolute riot as the slightly forward Corrine and Rex Linn (from CSI Miami and dozens of other films and series) adds plenty of sly, down-home color as Baker, the private investigator.

There is a fair amount of humor in The Drone, but nothing like the delightfully over-the-top Zombeavers. It is entirely possible that Rubin and his co-screenwriters, Al & Jon Kaplan might consider this film to be a commentary on the dehumanizing implications of technology, on some deeper level, but it is really just a logic-challenged genre flick.

Rubin keeps the film moving along and the drone’s hacking and slashing should be credible enough for midnight movie fans. However, the third act twists are utterly laughable and Chris’s insensitivity and general dorkiness will alienate just about every woman in the audience and a good portion of the guys. However, if you loved Wes Craven’s Shocker (by far his silliest film) than this should be your cinematic catnip. Recommended for meathead horror fans, The Drone had its world premiere last night at Slamdance.

Slamdance ’19: Dons of Disco

Milli Vanilli got off easy. Sure, they have been mocked and humiliated, but at least they were not pulled into a blood feud with their “ghost-singers.” “Blood feud” might be a slight exaggeration in the case of Tom Hooker and Stefano Zandri, but only slightly so. The face of Den Harrow, the supposedly American Italo-Disco star took umbrage when the voice started taking credit for his vocals. Jonathan Sutak chronicles a very strange and very Italian show business story in Dons of Disco (trailer here), which screens during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival in Park City.

Both Hooker and Zandri would probably agree the 1970s were quite a time in Italy. Disco was most definitely the thing and super-producers Miki Chieregato and Roberto Turatti were quite adept at manufacturing hits, but Den Harrow was their greatest invention. According to his legend, Harrow hailed from Chicago, but he was really Zandri, an Italian model and party-boy, who lip-synched the vocals of Hooker, a genuine American. He had a legit Italian chart-topper, but his career suffered when his vocals for Harrow became too value to dilute with releases under his own name.

Hooker had more-or-less accepted his ghost status, successfully forging a new career, until he was outed on social media. He decided to own up and reclaim his voice, which did not sit well with Zandri. Hooker, now known as Thomas Barbey even launched a comeback attempt with the help of Chieregato, whereas as Turatti essentially sided with Zandri.

The Den Harrow story is “stranger than fiction” and Sutak does it justice. However, whether it was his intention or not, Hooker has the clear advantage throughout the doc. In the 70s Zandri might have been the better looking one, but in the 2010s, Hooker/Barbey is much more charismatic on-screen. He has a sense of humor, whereas Zandri acts like a poor man’s Franco Nero. Plus, Hooker can actually sing.

There are a number of genuine surprises in store for viewers at various points during Dons. It will also be wildly nostalgic for the disco generation. Sutak has a solid handle on Harrow and his legion of fans. If viewers are not careful, they could even find themselves infected by Harrow earworms, like the ultra-of-its-era “Don’t Break My Heart.”

The ultimate irony of Dons is just how much superior the current circumstances of Hooker/Barbey are compared to those of Zandri. Apparently, the Face had tax problems—that’ll do it every time. It also explains the vehemence of Zandri’s response—he needs to be Harrow more than Hooker. Regardless, their story is certifiably nutty, but there is a general love of music shared by Sutak, his subjects, and his talking heads that is quite appealing. Recommended for nostalgic fans of disco music and related forms of cheesy music, Dons of Disco screens again on Thursday (1/31), as part of this year’s Slamdance.

Slamdance ’19: Dollhouse

Prepare for a lesson in women’s and media studies from a pack of Spitting Image-style puppets. Frankly, the puppet known as Junie Spoons probably has as much personality as the pop starlets she is satirizing. Her dramatic cautionary tale of woe unfolds in a phony Behind the Music-like gossip show that serves as the narrative artifice of Nicole Brending’s Dollhouse: The Eradication of Female Subjectivity from American Culture (clip here), which premiered during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

You more-or-less know her story. Spoons started out as the star of an innocent child’s variety program, but as her star rose, she incorporated increasingly risqué elements into her solo act. She became a major star, but after her somewhat less famous co-star (and love of her life) dumped her, she started abusing drugs, alcohol, and himbos.

The scummy men and substance abuse issues could have been endured by any number of hot mess pop idols. However, Spoons has one legal challenge wholly unique to her, but ironically, it might just cost the support of the hyper-sensitive social justice warriors Brending’s film is probably counting on.

In a rather surreal turn of events, Spoons must lawyer-up and litigate to maintain her identity when a white trash loser decides deep down he really is Junie Spoons and must transition genders in order to become who is really is. Alas, Spoons’ legal battle will cost her greatly.

During the first forty-five minutes or so, Dollhouse charts a safe, feminist tack. However, the third act holds implications that might offend the professionally offended, with respects to it handling of transgender issues—so best of luck to Brending.

For the most part, Dollhouse is mildly amusing, but only an inch deep. Basically, she milks as many chuckles as she can from the spectacle of puppets behaving badly. If the art of cinema peaked for you with the vomiting scene in Team America: World Police than this film is your huckleberry. At least it has the merit of brevity, clocking in under 70 minutes. Just kind of whatever, Dollhouse: The Eradication of Female Subjectivity from American Culture (say that one-time fast) screens again Monday (1/28) during this year’s Slamdance in Park City.