Sundance ’14: No No: a Dockumentary

For most baseball fans, Dock Ellis is best known as the man who won the 1976 AL Comeback Player of the Year and helped pitch the New York Yankees into that year’s World Series. It is a perfect example of how a great team can rejuvenate veteran players. There are also those remember him for throwing a no-hitter while under the influence of LSD. Jeffrey Radice profiles Ellis’s colorful career and meaningful post-baseball life in No No: a Dockumentary, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Radice openly evokes Superfly and other blaxploitation films when chronicling Ellis’s early seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates. Ellis liked to dress sharp, but he was not inclined to take guff off anyone.  However, he was far less confident beneath his bluster, which is why he regularly took some narcotic courage before starting a game.

While our Yankee chauvinism might sound like an exaggerated put-on, the late Ellis might not have objected. While he was happy to notch the no-no career milestone, many of Dockumentary’s talking heads suggest Ellis was uncomfortable with all the sophomoric jokey attention focused on the LSD part of the story.  After all, some of the most compelling sequences follow Ellis’s drug-fueled implosion and his subsequent comeback as an addiction counselor.

Radice talks to a number of Ellis’s former teammates, family members, and ex-wives, compiling a pretty thorough composite of his subject.  He maintains a brisk pace, while Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz’s score and the funky licensed tracks evoke the 1970’s vibe quite distinctively. Ellis’s story also raises several topical issues, such as drug use, domestic abuse, and the state of post-Jackie Robinson racial relations in Major League Baseball.  Radice gives them all their proper due, but never strays too far from the baselines.  Frankly, he gets the mix of social relevancy and retro attitude just right.  Highly watchable, No No: a Dockumentary is recommended for audiences beyond the obvious ESPN market. It screens again in Park City today (1/24) and tomorrow (1/25) as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: The Raid 2

Rama’s last mission was an off-the-books frontal assault. He was one of the few survivors. This time, he will use stealth and deception. Don’t worry, he will generate the same massive body count in Gareth Huw Evans’ The Raid 2 (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Ironically, busting his corrupt commanding officer might not be so hot for Rama’s career. It is likely to attract the wrong sort of attention.  Fortunately (or not), the leader of the new anti-corruption squad papers over the whole affair, so he can recruit Rama for a deep cover operation.  The honest cop and family man will spend two years in prison, where he will become the protector of Uco, the unstable son of Bangun, Jakarta’s top mob boss. His objective is not to take down Bangun, but to expose the cops in his pocket.

Matters get more complicated (as gangster business often does) when Uco hatches a plan to usurp his father and launch an all out war against their Japanese Yakuza allies. With chaos unleashed, Rama forms a de facto alliance with Eka, Bangun’s more rational lieutenant, played by Mr. Sundance, Oka Antara, co-lead of the Mo Brothers’ Killers.

Raid 2 starts a bit slower than the previous film, actually devoting a minute or two to exposition, but it is soon off to the races. In addition to the mega-melees, there are several feature spots devoted to various supporting beat down artists. Yayan Ruhian, Iko Uwais’s co-action choreographer on both films, reappears in the persona of Prakoso, a loyal Bangun assassin done wrong by Uco.  However, the sequel’s new fan favorite is likely to be Julie Estelle, who literally tears it up the joint as the aptly named “Hammer Girl.” Watching her go Sears Craftsman on various Yakuza is what the movies should be all about.

Once again, Uwais and Ruhian’s fight scenes are spectacularly violent and wildly cool. Close quarters combat is unquestionably their forte. While their moves are often dazzling cinematic, there is nothing superhuman in Raid 2, except perhaps its characters’ tolerance for pain.

Uwais is an earnest enough screen presence with truly ferocious action chops. Likewise, Ruhian and Estelle should be future cult stars in their own right.  Arifin Putra brings plenty of entitled villainy as the recklessly ambitious Uco, while Antara and Tio Pakusodewo’s Bangun nicely hold up the Johnnie To gangster tradition.

Without question, Raid 2 maintains the franchise’s status as the reigning Cadillac of martial arts cinema. Saturated in adrenaline, it is the sort of film that inspires expressions of appreciative shock and awe from the audience.  Highly recommended, it screens again this Saturday (1/25) in Salt Lake as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Low Down

Jazz musicians have families like anybody else.  Some even produce musical dynasties, like the Marsalises and the O’Farrills. For many though, the inconsistent nature of gigging is a stressful fact of jazz family life.  Heroin addiction adds a further destabilizing element.  Amy Albany understands this all too well.  Her memoir tells a stark tale of drug abuse, bebop, and paternal love.  Jazz pianist and former Charlie Parker sideman Joe Albany’s chaotic parenting gets the biopic treatment in Jeff Preiss’s Low Down, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Tragically, Joe Albany was arguably the more responsible of Amy Albany’s parents, but that is saying a lot. While Amy Albany’s absentee alcoholic mother only fleetingly appears in her life, Joe makes a good faith effort at fatherhood.  Sadly, Hollywood in the early 1970’s is a tough scene for working jazz musicians, but it is easy to score junk there.

Clearly, Joe Albany had a good rapport with his daughter, but he was enslaved to his habits. Right from the start, a pattern emerges.  Resolving to do right by his daughter and parole officer, Albany will clean up, accepting gigs beneath his stature for the sake of his family commitments.  Yet, his inevitable benders consistently undo all his good intentions.  During these periods, Amy Albany moves back in with her gruff but eternally patient grandmother.

Having served as the cinematographer of Bruce Weber’s Chet Baker documentary, Let’s Get Lost, Preiss is no stranger to the effects of long term heroin use—but he has nothing on Amy Albany, who co-adapted her book for the big screen.  It is not pretty in either film.  However, Albany’s source memoir is even more harrowing in its depiction of drug use. Still, the wreckage wrought by Albany’s addiction is all too believable and realistic on-screen.

Right, so this is not exactly happy stuff, but John Hawkes’ performance as Joe Albany is quite remarkable.  He perfectly captures the cadences and mannerisms of a dissipated musician and looks comfortable enough behind the piano. It is painful witnessing his long slow process of self-destruction, precisely because he so vividly brings out the more edifying aspects of Albany’s personality.  Playing a bit against type, Glenn Close is rather earthy and compelling as his tough working class mother.  Lena Headey also makes a strong impression in her brief scenes as Sheila Albany.  Unfortunately, Elle Fanning is too bland and retiring as the teenaged Albany.

Low Down is a quality period production that painstakingly recreates the desperate seediness of Hollywood in the 1970’s.  It might be hard to watch, but it sounds great, thanks to extensive archival recordings from Albany and his contemporaries, as well as some original jazz themes composed and recorded by Ohad Talmor. Depressing but well intentioned and deeply humanistic, Low Down is recommended for bebop fans when it screens again today (1/23) and tomorrow (1/24) in Park City, as well as this Sunday (1/25) at Sundance Resort, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Memphis

They know the blues in Memphis. One star-in-the-making also happens to be particularly good at giving the blues. In fact, the blues are downright contagious in Tim Sutton’s Memphis, which screens during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Willis Earl Beal essentially plays a fictionalized version of himself. His electric bluesman is poised to break out, yet he keeps self-sabotaging. When you get him talking, he has some colorful things to say. Unfortunately, like many characters in the film, he is prone to amble about deserted parking lots and other pretentious art cinema backdrops.

Granted, Memphis offers plenty of local color. Sutton often stops by the local Hallelujah church for a fix of gospel choir and ambiguous ruminations on the role faith plays in the lives of its average working class members. Clearly, this is a depressed city (at least this is the case for the neighborhoods Sutton and Beal traverse), but to his credit, Sutton presents a nuanced portrait of the city’s economic and social realities.

Featuring Beal’s tunes and the supplemental music of Scott Bomar, Memphis gets the soundtrack right. However, you would be hard pressed to find a narrative in there.  Still, Beal has two truly great scenes that might be cobbled together into a compelling short.  In contrast, the rest of the film feels like snoozy filler.

Honestly, any film that looks and sounds as good as Memphis should never be such a chore to watch. Beal demonstrates his potential star power, but he needs more to work with than the skeletal bones of Sutton’s screenplay. Overall, it is a real disappointment.  For blues diehards heedless of our warnings, it screens again today (1/22) and Saturday (1/25) in Park City, as part of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: The Better Angels

That log cabin business was no joke.  Abraham Lincoln’s formative years put the “hard” in hardscrabble. Yet, they shaped him into the commanding and compassionate leader our nation needed. Young Master Lincoln comes of age in A.J. Edwards’ impressionistic The Better Angels (trailer here), co-produced by Terrence Malick, which screens as a New Frontier selection of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Narrated by Lincoln’s cousin reminiscing shortly after his assassination, Angels chronicles three years of his life as a gangly youth in the back hills of Indiana.  His devout but illiterate mother Nancy Lincoln recognizes her youngest son’s remarkable intellectual gifts, but his gruff father sees no value in a bookish education. Nancy Lincoln would die at a tragically young age, but her religious convictions clearly shaped her sensitive son’s ethical values.  A short while later Tom Lincoln remarries.  Sarah Lincoln also takes a shine to young Abraham, finally convincing her husband to support his education.

Throughout Angels, Malick protégé Edwards maintains a style consistent with that of his mentor, but scene after scene resonate with far greater emotion than the austere To the Wonder. This is a simple story, but it is deeply moving.  Aside from the exquisitely beautiful opening shots of the Lincoln Memorial, Angels never leaves the Indiana Hill country, circa 1817. Yet, Lincoln’s later significance is unambiguously stamped upon the film.

Visually, Angels is a true work of art.  Each and every frame of Matthew J. Lloyd’s black-and-white cinematography is suitable for framing. As sort of an illustrative tone poem-tribute to Lincoln, Angels fits comfortably enough in the New Frontiers rubric.  Nevertheless, the film boasts several very fine performances. Diane Kruger’s turn as Sarah Lincoln is wonderfully sensitive and finely wrought, but Jason Clarke’s work as the demanding but ultimately loving Tom Lincoln sneaks up on viewers, landing a total knockout punch.

Yes, Angels is deliberately paced, favoring sensory stimulus over narrative drive. It is also an unusually powerful and evocative film. There will be plenty of people who just won’t get it, but they will be wrong. Elegantly crafted, it is one of the high-end high-points of this year’s Sundance. Enthusiastically recommended for patrons with adult attention spans, The Better Angels screens again today (1/22) and Saturday (1/25) in Park City.

Sundance ’14: Dead Snow; Red vs. Dead

It turns out that old “fight fire with fire” idiom also applies to zombie uprisings.  The National Socialist zombies are back and they are on the march in Tommy Wirkola’s Dead Snow; Red vs. Dead (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

If you forgot the intricate plot of Snow 1, Snow 2 is considerate enough to bring us all back to speed. Martin was the only one who survived when an army of Nazi zombies attacked his friends’ ski lodge.  However, he did not make a clean getaway.  A few days later, he wakes up in hospital, finding himself an accused mass murderer, with the arm of the undead Standartenfuhrer Herzog mistakenly grafted in place of the arm he self-amputated Evil Dead-style.   To make matters worse, his new limb seems to have a homicidal mind of his own, further reinforcing everyone’s erroneous assumptions. At least it comes in handy during his escape.

Eventually teaming up with three American zombie hunters and a goth kid working at a provincial WWII museum, Martin hatches a daring plan to stop the Herzog’s zombies before they can fulfill their final orders: the mass execution of a defiant coastal town. Thanks to his zombie augmented arm, Martin can raise his own loyal zombie minions, so he heads into the mountains in search of the mass grave entombing Herzog’s Russian nemesis and his Red Army troops. That actually sounds like a workable plan, right?

With R vs. D, Wirkola proves there is still some life left in the Norwegian Nazi zombie genre after all.  Frankly, part two far exceeds the original.  While the first film was content to coast on the novelty of its premise, largely staging a conventional zombie siege, Wirkola’s follow-up more fully capitalizes on the possibilities of such a distinctive zombie apocalypse.  Opening the film up to the wider world also raises the stakes and the body count dramatically.

There are some big gory laughs in R vs. D and some clever hat-tips for fans. In fact, some of the bits might even break new zombie ground. Vegar Hoel is pitch perfect as Martin, the conscience-stricken zombie hunter.  Jocelyn DeBoer and Ingrid Haas also bring a blast of energy to the proceedings as Zombie Squad members constantly arguing the age old question: Star Wars vs. Star Trek. They should make geeks very happy indeed.

Clearly, R vs. D has all the elements to be the feel-good hit of the year or at least the Little Miss Sunshine of this year’s Sundance.  It is truly a triumph of the human spirit, with plenty of flying body parts as an added bonus. It is probably safe to say Thomas Edison invented moving pictures precisely so the world would have films like this. Highly recommended for zombie fans (considerably more than its predecessor), Dead Snow; Red vs. Dead screens again tonight (1/22) in Park City and this Friday (1/24) in Salt Lake as part of the Sundance Film Festival.

Tribute to Donald Richie: Himatsuri

Tatsuo is a lumberjack, but he’s not okay.  He does not live in harmony with nature or his neighbors.  There will come a reckoning sometime soon from either karma or the village’s patron goddess in Mitsuo Yanagimachi’s Himatsuri, which screens during the Japan Society’s tribute to the late great film scholar, critic, and historian Donald Richie.

Tatsuo is the alpha male among the woodsmen working the rocky hills above the village. Openly defiant of propriety, the married man has recently relocated his not so former mistress Kimiko to the village.  He mostly thinks of women in sexual terms, including the mountain goddess. Most villagers are anticipating a windfall from a proposed marine tourist park, but Tatsuo is the fly in their ointment, refusing to sell his land smack dab in the middle of the project.  To make matters worse, he is the prime suspect in a rash of oil spills deliberately targeting the rival fishermen.  Then something significant happens to him during a storm in the woods.

Deeply steeped in Shinto symbolism, Himatsuri represents the Japanese art cinema tradition at its most rarified.  Visually it is absolutely arresting, but the on-screen action, such as it is, can be hard to follow.  Frankly, the celebrated Tōru Takemitsu’s score—characteristically straddling musical composition and soundscape—communicates most directly to viewers the uncanny malevolence afoot.

One of the younger filmmakers championed by Richie (who also helped translate Himatsuri’s subtitles), Yanagimachi is clearly inclined to leave much of the film’s mystery unresolved.  Indeed, that uncertainty makes the shocking climax even more unsettling. However, the process of getting from point A to point not-A will tax many viewers.

Like a manly throwback to Mifune, Kinya Kitaoji gives a loud and lusty tour de force performance as Tatsuo, refusing to be dwarfed by cinematographer Masaki Tamura’s overpowering vistas. Between Kitaoji and the awe-inspiring wrath of nature, nobody else stands much of chance in Himatsuri. Nevertheless, Kiwako Taichi makes quite an entrance as Kimiko.

Do not wait for Yanagimachi to spoon feed meaning to viewers, because it will not happen.  However, those who appreciate the experience having a film wash over them will be enraptured by Himatsuri.  It is a hot or cold proposition, with the hots largely bunched up towards the high end of the bell curve.  Recommended for highly discriminating cineastes, Himatsuri screens Friday night (1/24) in New York, as part of the Japan Society’s Richie tribute.

Sundance ’14: Killers

Presumably, this is not what Al Gore had in mind when he invented the internet. A Jakarta journalist obsessed with the death videos posted online by a Tokyo serial killer starts following suit when he crosses into vigilante slayings.  Soon thereafter, they strike up an unlikely IM dialogue, but it is not what you would call a friendly rivalry. Things will get bloody in the Mo Brothers (Timo Tjahjanto & Kimo Stromboel)’s Killers, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Bayu’s unsuccessful attempts to bring down a well-heeled, politically connected sexual predator short-circuited his career and indirectly caused his separation from his wife. Watching the videos posted by Shuhei Nomura only further stokes his anger management issues. It all finally boils over during an attempted mugging (and worse).  Suddenly, Bayu is in the Bronson business.

In contrast, the sadistic and precise Nomura is a cold blooded killer.  He gets sick satisfaction from killing, but he plans each prolonged murder out to the last detail.  However, Nomura will make an uncharacteristic mistake or two, making their months of correspondence a rather chaotic time for them both.

Frankly, Killers might be too much even for veteran midnight movie patrons. Some of the sequences with Nomura are downright scarring, as well as scary.  Nevertheless, the Mo Brothers certainly know how to stage a hyper-violent action sequence.  For instance, Bayu has a hotel getaway melee scene that ranks with the hallway fight scene in Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy (the real one, not the cheap remake). About as tense as genre films can get, Killers is an unrelenting white knuckle viewing experience from the first frame up to the last.

Despite its unseemly milieu, Killers features a top drawer cast working at the peak of their powers.  Japanese TV heartthrob Kauzki Kitamura is disturbingly cold and creepy as Nomura, while Oka Antara’s Bayu broods like nobody’s business. However, the finely nuanced Rin Takanashi (so exquisitely vulnerable in Kiarostami Like Someone in Love) gives the film some heart and soul as the prospective victim who starts to awaken emotions in Nomura (that is definitely one of those goods news-bad news kind of things).

With Killers, the Mo Brothers definitely announce themselves as adrenaline charged filmmakers to be reckoned with.  Unfortunately, long stretches of the film are just no fun to watch. Brutal but effective, Killers is specifically recommended for experienced cult film connoisseurs when it screens again today (1/21) and Thursday (1/23) in Park City, as well as this Saturday (1/25) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Vengeance is Shohei Imamura: Vengeance is Mine

Those who had a run-in with con man Akira Nishiguchi were fortunate if they only lost a few hundred thousand Yen.  He also left behind a trail of bodies. It was precisely the sort of case that appealed to Shohei Imamura’s artistic sensibilities, inspiring his return to narrative filmmaking after a string of legit documentaries. Appropriately, Imamura’s Vengeance is Mine (trailer here) screens in New York during the similarly titled Vengeance is Shohei Imamura film series now underway at the Asia Society.

Henceforth known as Isao Enokizu, Imamura’s Nishiguchi proxy never had a good relationship with his devoutly Catholic father, Shizuo. He was somewhat closer to his mother, but her persistent health problems largely keep her out of the picture.  He was a punk as a kid and graduated to full blown criminality as an adult.  Nevertheless, his father convinces his wife Kazuko to remarry him during his first prison stretch, for religious reasons.  Frankly, she will not see very much of him, even after his release.

As the audience witnesses in graphic detail, Enokizu will murder two former truck driving colleagues on their collection day, launching a seventy-eight day crime spree that will thoroughly embarrass the Tokyo police.  Given the in media res opening, it is clear Enokizu’s luck will eventually run out.  The question is how long he can last and how much damage he can do in the meantime.

As it happens, he finds the perfect hiding spot: a discretely tucked away suburban no-tell motel, run by proprietor Haru Asano and her mother, who specialize in procuring prostitutes for their guests.  Posing as a visiting professor, Enokizu maintains a professional relationship with Asano during his initial stay, only becoming her lover later, when his secret is out.

Motivations are a strange thing in Vengeance.  There is no accounting for them, beyond the usual lust, wrath, and resentment. While on the surface, Vengeance functions as a manhunt procedural thriller, an atmosphere of moral decay hangs over the entire film. It opens with one of the messiest, clumsiest murder sequences perhaps ever and proceeds to show viewers several of Enokizu’s furtive assignations, where sex and violence are provocatively intertwined, so you should probably leave the kids home for this one.

In a career defining performance, Ken Ogata is convincingly seductive within Enokizu’s on-screen world, but he leaves viewers deeply creeped out. He is a pure sociopath, whose emotional range spans from cold blooded calculation to spitting rage.

Ogata’s Enokizu is a practically a force of nature, like a hurricane, but his father and assorted lovers are not merely generic victims.  Rentarō Mikuni expresses in vivid terms just how the elder Enokizu’s moral failings are exacerbated by the stress and disgrace generated by his son.  Likewise, Mitsuko Baisho is achingly pitiable but still remarkably sensuous as his long suffering wife Kazuko.  Mayumi Ogawa is also equally haunting as Asano, a woman condemned to a life of Dickensian struggle by the scandals of others.

Both in terms of its themes and scope, Vengeance is one of the great films of the 1970’s, sitting comfortably beside the likes of Coppola’s The Conversation and Polanski’s Chinatown.  It is definitely a muscular noir, but it has a bitingly existential chaser.  Highly recommended for all movie lovers, it screens free of charge this Friday (1/24) as part of the Vengeance is Shohei Imamura mini-retrospective at the Asia Society.

Sundance ’14: Cold in July

In Texas, they do not need “stand your ground laws.” Instead, they apply the “did he have it coming” standard.  As a result, not too many people are concerned when Richard Dane accidentally kills a home intruder, least of all the police. However, the deceased’s ex-con father seems somewhat put-out by it all in Jim Mickle’s Cold in July, which screens during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Dane is hardly an action hero. He truly did not intend to kill Freddy Russell when he interrupted the burglar at work.  The situation just made him understandably jumpy. Ray Price (the cop on the case, rather than the Nixon speechwriter) is happy to sweep the entire incident under the rug, but not Ben Russell. Released just in time for his estranged son’s funeral, he soon starts threatening Dane and his family. At first, Price assumes he is just posturing, but things escalate quickly.  Then the first game-changing shoe drops.

Adapted from Joe R. Lansdale’s novel, July starts out as a conventional home invasion-revenge thriller, but radically shifts gears in the second act, veering into Andrew Vachss territory.  While it appropriately has the dusty noir look of Jim Thompson films, it is way darker than even The Killer Inside Me. There are scenes here that sensitive viewers might wish they could “unsee.”

Regardless, it is brutally effective when it gets down to business. The late 1980’s period details also help the film’s thriller dynamics, taking the internet and cell phones (aside from a running Gordon Gekko style gag) out of the picture. It all ends in a bloody and ironic place that should satisfy genre fans.

Michael C. Hall does decent work as Dane, but he is simply overwhelmed by the seriously hardboiled Sam Shepard, seething like mad as the senior Russell. Yet, Don Johnson chews more scenery and out hardnoses everyone as Jim Bob Luke, a sort of gunslinger recruited into the bloody family feud. As a further bonus, Mickle’s co-writer Nick Damici adds some distinctively noir seasoning as Price, the shady copper.

Stylish, intense, and at times blackly comic, July is a slickly executed criminal morality play. However, it might be too strong for Lifetime and Hallmark Channel viewers. Recommended for hardy film noir connoisseurs, Cold in July screens today (1/20) in Salt Lake and tomorrow (1/21), Thursday (1/23), and Saturday (1/25) in Park City, as part of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Sepideh Reaching for the Stars

In the provincial Iranian foothills, an astronomy club sets up a portable telescope outside a skeletal observatory, abandoned halfway through the construction process. Meanwhile, it is full speed ahead for Iran’s nuclear reactors.  Such are the scientific priorities in today’s Iran.  For a teenage girl harboring astronomical dreams, the cultural climate is even trickier.  Documentary filmmaker Berit Madsen quietly observes her subject plugging away in Sepideh Reaching for the Stars (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Star-gazing has profound personal significance for Sepideh Hooshyar. It is a form of meditation and a way to commune with the spirit of her beloved late father.  As an intelligent student blessed with an independent streak, she has been tapped as a leader of her extracurricular astronomy club. Naturally, her patriarchal deadbeat uncles do not think very much of young women practicing astronomy. For reasons of greed and pettiness, they have jeopardized the financial position of Hooshyar’s mother.  Still, the young woman is not inclined to kowtow to anybody.

While Hooshyar never directly addresses any political or ideological controversies, it would still be fair to describe her as a free-thinker.  Throughout the film, she addresses her diary entries to her muse, Albert Einstein, and takes inspiration from her idol, Iranian American astronaut Anousheh Ansari (whom she erroneously considers the “first woman in space”).

Intellectually, most viewers understand Iran is far from a progressive society, but there are scenes of unabashed misogyny in Sepideh that will drop their jaws and boil their blood. Clearly, young Hooshyar is nearly always the smartest person in the room, but her government, society, and extended family all seem determined to squander her talents.

Given her fly-on-the-wall style, Madsen’s never offers any commentary or context, but it is transparently evident where these attitudes come from. The men and assorted female authority figures are all swimming in Islamist rhetoric.  Filmed in a rather flat, colorless HD, Sepideh is not particularly cinematic looking, but there are real stakes to the drama that unfolds.

In many ways, Sepideh could be considered a fitting documentary companion to Haifaa Al Monsour’s narrative feature, Wadjda.  It is a timely film, but a deeply personal story.  Highly recommended, Sepideh Reaching for the Stars screens again tomorrow (1/21), Thursday (1/23), and Friday (1/24) in Park City, as part of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’14: Goldberg & Eisenberg

They sound like a law firm or an architectural partnership, but their relationship is far from collegial.  It starts with revulsion on the former’s part and obsession for the latter, but quickly goes downhill from there.  There will be plenty of stalking and assorted mind games in Oren Carmi’s Goldberg & Eisenberg (spoilery trailer here), which screened last night at the 2014 Slamdance Film Festival in Park City.

Tel Aviv is a happening city, but you would hardly know it from these two very different losers. Goldberg is exactly the sort of awkward computer programmer he looks like, who spends all of his free time getting rejected on internet dating services.  Eisenberg is just off.  The slovenly thug just seems to loiter about Meir Park all day.  When he sees Goldberg, he immediately wants to be friends, or perhaps something more. 

Goldberg wants none of that. He is definitely straight. He just isn’t very good at it. Unfortunately, rejection only makes Eisenberg more aggressive and erratic. Things will get ugly and the cops will be as useless as all the other cops in previous psycho-stalker movies. Yet, to his credit, Goldberg plugs away in his search for Ms. Right.

Given the not so ambiguous nature of Eisenberg’s interest, it is highly doubtful G&E could be produced in America, lest GLAAD be offended.  It is decidedly un-PC, but old school indie scenesters will dig its grungy 1980’s-Lower Eastside vibe.  Cinematographer Ido Bar-On gives it a murky, dirty look, befitting the tunnel vision of its characters.  Frankly, the first hour or so largely consists of standard cat-and-mouse stuff, but Carmi totally pulls the rug out from under the audience’s feet with an inspired third act.  It goes from dark to pitch black, cranking up the macabre irony.

As Goldberg, Yitzhak Laor completely looks and acts the part of a nebbish, low rent Frasier Crane.  Likewise, Yahav Gal’s Eisenberg is uncomfortably intense and clammy.  They fit their roles perfectly, but you wouldn’t want to spend much time with either of them.  On the other hand, the charismatic Ronny Dotan shines in her too brief appearances as Noa, Goldberg’s potential geekly chic girlfriend.

Initially viewers might think they have seen G&E many times before, but it is worth staying with it. While it does not have the same manic energy and sinister edge of Aharon Keshales & Navot Papushado’s Big Bad Wolves or Rabies, Carmi proves he has plenty of filmmaking potential. Indeed, it should be the perfect film to see with an appreciative Park City crowd when it screens again tomorrow (1/21) during this year’s Slamdance.

Sundance ’14: Blind

In a post-Heisenberg world, we have grown accustomed to the notion perception influences reality, but what does that mean to you if you happen to be blind?  For one woman who recently lost her sight, the world has become drastically smaller. Yet, she will still exert a strange influence over it in Eskil Vogt’s Blind (nsfw trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Ingrid was once an outgoing Norwegian professional, but after the late onset of a congenital condition robbed her of her sight, she rarely leaves her flat. Her husband Morten is becoming increasingly frustrated with her reclusiveness.  Yet, she suspects he might secretly spy on her in the flat, at times when he is supposedly at the office or his gym.

In fact, Blind’s small cast of characters can be divided into those who watch and those who are blind. Morten’s old college crony Einar is definitely a watcher. Vaguely resembling the out of shape Val Kilmer of today, Einar is an internet porn addict who graduated to real life peeping. The current object of his fascination is Elin, a struggling single mother and fellow Swede, with whom Morten strikes up a dalliance.  Elin is certainly not a voyeur, nor is she initially blind.  However, through Twilight Zone-like circumstances, Ingrid might just visit a fearful symmetry on her pseudo-rival.

Or perhaps not.  Frankly, it is almost as hard for viewers to parse fantasy from reality in Blind as it is for the characters. Ostensive reality is a malleable, ever changing proposition that often involves nudity. Vogt constantly changes the rules on us, but for reasons of philosophic uncertainty rather than to extricate himself from a narrative corner. This is a very strange film, but the quality of the four principle performances and the oddly mesmerizing vibe help rehabilitate sexually charged hipster pretension.

Ellen Dorrit Petersen is absolutely haunting and maybe a little scary as Ingrid.  Likewise, playwright Marius Kolbenstvedt humanizes the potentially creepy Einar to a remarkable extent. Vera Vitali is also quite effective expressing Elin’s fragile vulnerability, suggesting a woman trapped in a stage of arrested emotional development.  In contrast, Henrik Rafaelson (somewhat reminiscent of Michael Nyqvist of the Dragon Tattoo franchise) has the least to work with as the coolly detached Morten.

Head-tripping movies are rarely rendered as elegantly as Blind.  It is a film that begs for repeat viewing and obsessive analysis.  Despite all the talk of pay cable television supplanting cinema as the dominant cultural force, you will only find surreal postmodernism like this in arthouse-festival films.  Recommended for mature and adventurous viewers, Blind screens again this Wednesday (1/22) and Saturday (1/25) in Park City as well as this afternoon (1/19) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Remembering the Artist Robert De Niro, Sr.

This is Sundance, not Tribeca. Nevertheless, Robert De Niro has some family business to tend to.  In revealing interviews, De Niro will discuss the life and artistic reputation of his painter father in Perri Peltz & Geeta Gandbhir’s Remembering the Artist Robert De Niro Sr., which screens as part of Documentary Shorts Program II at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, before its HBO premiere later in the year.

The senior De Niro is often lumped in with his Abstract Expressionist colleagues, but he was always a much more figurative painter.  Championed by Peggy Guggenheim at an early point in his career, De Niro was once the leading contender amongst his fellow Hans Hofmann students. Yet, it just never happened for him.  Deeply influenced by French Modernists (Matisse in particular seems to echo in his work), De Niro became increasingly out of step with the Pop and Op directions the American art world took.

Peltz & Gandbhir’s battery of experts do excellent job placing De Niro senior within the context of American art history.  After seeing the film, most viewers will be convinced De Niro the artist would be worthy of the documentary treatment even if he were not the father of De Niro the actor.  Still, there is no denying the De Niro family connection adds an additional element of drama.  As lead interview subject and the narrator of select excerpts from his father’s diary, the junior De Niro is pretty forthright about the senior De Niro’s depression and sexuality issues. Indeed, he opens up to a surprising extent regarding what sounds like a loving but problematic relationship.

Probably the most persuasive part of Remembering’s case for posterity are De Niro’s very paintings, which generously illustrate the film.  His bold technique and rich, warm colors are quite striking.  At just thirty nine minutes, it is like an especially economically installment of American Masters.  Recommended for art lovers and De Niro fans, Remembering the Artist Robert De Niro Sr screens again in Park City today (1/19), Wednesday (1/22), and Saturday (1/25) during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Finding Fela

He was a mother’s boy married to twenty-seven wives simultaneously. In many ways, Fela Anikulapo Kuti is a maddeningly difficult figure to fully take stock of, but he sure could play.  Wisely, Alex Gibney focuses more on Kuti’s music than his politics in the infectiously funky documentary Finding Fela, which premiered at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Kuti was the leading innovator of Afrobeat, the blistering rhythmic fusion of highlife, jazz, and funk music—and he remains far and away the most influential exemplar of the style.  In his day, Kuti was probably the only musician more esteemed than James Brown across the African Diaspora. Decades later, his music remained popular enough to spawn a Tony Award-winning Broadway show.  That is where Gibney came in. On-hand to document the show’s creative development, Gibney also incorporates a treasure trove of Kuti performance footage to tell the multi-instrumentalist’s story.

Musically, Finding is a rich feast, with members of the real deal Afrobeat band Antibalas performing the music for the Broadway show and living up to the example laid down by their inspiration quite nicely.  However, Gibney the documentarian is reasonably forthright addressing some of the darker aspects of Kuti the historical figure. While his musical criticism of Nigeria’s military regime is celebrated at length, Kuti’s less than progressive attitudes towards women and sex are also acknowledged. 

To his credit, Gibney also addresses the AIDS issue head-on.  Tragically, the voracious Kuti denied the existence of the disease and refused to practice safe sex, even when he began to exhibit obvious symptoms. Admirably, the Kuti family was also rather courageously forthcoming after their patriarch’s death. In contrast, Bill T. Jones, the co-creator and choreographer of the Broadway show admits they basically punted on those problematic final days.

Gibney is a wildly inconsistent filmmaker, who can spin out unsubstantiated conspiracy theories in a film like Client 9, but then craft an insightful sports doc like Catching Hell.  In Finding, Gibney obviously decided, when in doubt cut to some music, which is a winning strategy. Whether it is recorded in Kuti’s storied club, the Shrine, or in a Broadway theater, the collected performances are enormously entertaining.  There is good stuff during the closing credits as well, so do not be like those squares who walked out of the Sundance premiere during Femi Kuti’s monster solo, recorded during a tribute to his father.

Finding Fela is the rare sort of doc that will have viewers nodding their heads and getting down.  Editorially, it also happens to be reasonably balanced and comprehensive. There is really nothing on the negative side of the ledger for it—it is all positive.  Enthusiastically recommended, Finding Fela screens again this Tuesday (1/21) in Salt Lake and Saturday (1/25) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’14: I Put a Hit on You

Anyone who has read Jack London’s Assassination Bureau or seen Bulworth knows there are some contracts you cannot cancel.  Unfortunately, if a spurned woman was familiar with them (or the dozens of thematically similar books and movies), she is too drunk to remember when venting online about her decidedly not-fiancé.  This leads to trouble in Dane Clark & Linsey Stewart’s I Put a Hit on You (trailer here), which screens during the 2014 Slamdance Film Festival in Park City.

When the thoroughly type-A Harper pops the question to the more laidback Ray, you could say he reacts rather badly.  Badly stung, she retreats into a bottle of wine and starts fooling around on Craig’s List (or a generic proxy).  When she comes to, she realizes she has struck a bargain with some creepy netizen to kill Ray in exchange for her engagement ring.  In a panic, she races to Ray’s flat for a series of increasingly awkward conversations.

IPAHOY is one of those economical films, whose titles also serve as synopses.  Essentially, it is also a two-hander, primarily shot in two locations. Granted, it is shrewdly assembled from a budgetary perspective, but there is no getting around its inherent staginess. Since we never really see much of the mysterious outsider, the film necessarily consists mostly of Harper and Ray bickering and bantering.

As Harper and Ray (who sound like a publishing company), Sara Canning and Aaron Ashmore have an okay screen rapport, but there’s nothing here you would consider movie magic. Still, they are quite believable as a functionally dysfunctional couple.

It might sound forced, but the drunken Craigslisting premise is surprisingly easy to buy into and it sets-up some moderately amusing lines throughout the film.  Frankly, everything about the film is modest and small in scope.  Mostly pleasant but wafer thin, it is not a film you will long carry in your subconscious.  Hardly a festival priority, I Put a Hit on You will probably still draw interest as a “safe” choice for older, more conventional audiences when it screens again tomorrow (1/20) as part of this year’s Slamdance.

Sundance ’14: Locke

This film would not have been possible twenty-five years ago. Without the advent of cell phones, a long dark night of the soul spent on England’s motorways would not offer much drama.  Fortunately, Ivan Locke is a plugged-in guy, but he will suffer through a series of uncomfortable calls in Steven Knight’s Locke (clip here), which screens during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Locke is a construction supervisor who takes pride in doing things the right way.  However, he has made a mistake that will be hard to put right. Acknowledging his responsibility, Locke is driving to London, where a woman who is not his wife will soon enter into labor. This is a really bad time for it. In addition to fielding tough questions from his wife and their two sons, Locke is expected to oversee the pouring of the concrete foundation for a major new high rise. Having gone AWOL, Locke is pretty much fired, but he is determined to guide his loyal subordinate Donal through the process, for the sake of the project. Of course, complications arise, at the work site, the hospital, and the home front.

If nothing else, Locke should go down in history as the definitive film on the intricacies of concrete construction techniques.  It really is educational. Happily, it also has Tom Hardy, putting on an acting clinic behind the wheel of Locke’s BMW.  He goes through a full spectrum of emotions, but he never indulgences in cheap Streepian histrionics.  This is a performance that pulls viewers into the man’s psyche, rather than obsessing over ticks and twitches.

Even though Locke is essentially a one man show, Hardy gets some nice assists from a talented voice cast literally phoning in their supporting turn.  Andrew Scott (Moriarty in the BBC-PBS Sherlock) is a particular stand out as Donal, often delivering some welcome and effective comic relief.

Best known as the Oscar nominated screenwriter of Dirty Pretty Things, Knight deserved considerably more attention for his directorial debut, Redemption, starring a misty-eyed Jason Statham.  Clearly, he has an affinity for noirish tales of nocturnal angst and desperation. Indeed, Knight’s execution is surprisingly stylish, never feeling stagey or contrived.  In fact, there is something rather hypnotic about the constant play of head lights and reflections captured by cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos’s three mounted digital cameras.  Deceptively simple, Locke is a film of considerable depth and integrity of character.  Recommended for general audiences, it screens again tomorrow (1/19), Friday (1/24), and Saturday (1/25) in Park City, as well as Thursday (1/23) in Salt Lake, as part of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’14: Dinosaur 13

Practice paleontology, go directly to jail.  That is the Federal government’s idea of justice.  Frankly, it should hardly surprise us anymore, but viewers will still be shocked and appalled at multi-agency smack-down that targeted a beleaguered independent fossil hunter.  It all started with a T-Rex named Sue.  Todd Douglas Miller chronicles the thrill of discover and the agony of government persecution in Dinosaur 13, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Until 1990, the few collected tyrannosaur skeletons were only 40% intact, at best.  Sue was about 80% intact, including the s-word, “skull.”  She was named in honor of the woman who found her, Susan Hendrickson, a friend volunteering on a private dig organized by Peter and Neal Larson, paleontologist brothers who operated a for-profit fossil collection agency.  They painstakingly excavated Sue and successful began the early preservation process.  Their idea was to keep Sue the T-Rex in economically depressed Hill City, South Dakota, using her to anchor their planned natural history museum.  Then one fateful day, the FBI swept in with search warrant and the state National Guard confiscated the fragile fossil.

What follows is an absolute horror story of abuse of power, malicious prosecution, and state sponsored plunder.  Unfortunately, the Larsons had been prospecting on the land of the thoroughly shady Maurice Williams, with his full permission.  They had duly purchased Sue from Williams, but as a member of the local tribe, Williams’ land was held in trust by the Federal government, which led to rather murky circumstances when Williams decided to reclaim Sue.  Naturally, the Federal government fell in line behind Williams, with the IRS quickly ganging up on the Larsons. As the legal battle dragged out, the Feds and the presiding judge grew increasingly vindictive.

Miller’s film raises a number of issues beyond the obvious injustice of an innocent paleontologist sentenced to the same maximum security Federal pen incarcerating Timothy McVeigh.  Anyone involved in natural resource industries in the west understands how the vast extent of Federal holdings creates bureaucratic nightmare. However, one of the most fascinating aspects of Dino 13 (deserving more time) is the way university academics joined forces with the government out their contempt for scrappy private sector fossil hunters like the Larsons.

By documentary standards, Dino 13 boasts a rather classy package, incorporating cinematographer Thomas Petersen’s striking Black Hills vistas and composer Matt Morton’s distinctive score.  Yet, the film has a muckraking heart.  Miller completely convinces viewers a crime was committed in South Dakota and the Larsons were the victims. 

Indeed, it is hard to mistake the nature of the persecution that was started by an interim Bush I U.S. Attorney and intensified under his Clinton-appointed successor, given the conspicuous absence of government players willing to sit for an interview.  Only one former IRS agent has the guts to try to defend their actions, failing miserably. As a result, you do not have to be a diehard Objectivist to view the Sue T-Rex battle as an attack on free enterprise, driven by greed and vanity. Thoughtfully constructed and dramatically potent, Dinosaur 13 is recommended for all doc watchers when it screens again today (1/18) in Salt Lake, as well as this Tuesday (1/21) and Friday (1/24) in Park City during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’14: Elliot

Did the recent death of Tom Laughlin leave a vacancy for Elliot “White Lightning” Scott to become the next white, working class martial arts star? No, absolutely not.  Although he aspires to be the Nova Scotian Chuck Norris, Scott’s barely there career is only headed in one direction—due south. Viewers will understand why after watching Jaret Belliveau & Matthew Bauckman’s documentary Elliot (trailer here), which premiered yesterday at the 2014 Slamdance Film Festival.

With two scruffy DIY martial arts flicks under his belt, Scott is trying to complete his most ambitious project to date, a beatdown entitled Blood Fight.  Unfortunately, the production has been plagued by problems that initially do seem to be entirely his fault.  Nevertheless, Linda Lum, his increasingly impatient girlfriend-slash-producer is clearly starting to have doubts about his action movie dreams and pretty much every other aspect of their relationship.

Frankly, Barney Fife had better moves than moves than Scott, but for a while viewers will try to see him as noble dreamer, like an Ed Wood or Mark Borchardt, whose ambitions exceed their talents.  However, this is not American Movie. While in China with his acupuncture class, Scott lets his yellow fever run rampant.  Aspects of his not so carefully constructed backstory then start to unravel. In fact, by the time the documentary enters the third act, Belliveau and Bauckman have pretty clearly turned against their subject, which becomes quite a sight to behold.

Things get so in-your-face uncomfortable, you have to wonder if it is all an extended meta-joke in the tradition of I’m Still Here.  Either way, it is dramatic stuff and a not inconsiderable feat of filmmaking, shot on location in both Nova Scotia and China. There is also a lot of humor in the film, mostly derived from Scott’s sheer brazenness and lack of self awareness.

Scott’s martial arts might be laughably amateurish (an underwhelmed Shaolin monk is obviously tempted to beat him like a drum and we sort of wish he would), but Belliveau & Bauckman practice a decidedly nimble form of cinematic jujitsu. Not exactly a film for martial art purists, Elliot is sort of like Kung Fu reality programming.  Right now, the late legendary Sir Run Run Shaw is probably looking down on Scott and thinking “kid, you stink.”  Yet, it is all undeniably compelling.  Although it screens as part of Slamdance’s Doc Features section, it could be comfortably programmed elsewhere as a midnight movie. Recommended for anyone open to a bit of Canadian bizarreness, Elliot screens again this Monday (1/20) as part of this year’s Slamdance in Park City.

Sundance ’14: Whiplash (the feature)

The late lamented IAJE’s annual conference-jazz gathering used to be such a breath of fresh air, because you could see the enthusiasm young high school kids have for America’s great original musical art form.  In the case of Andrew Neiman, there is a dark side to that passion—personified by a ruthlessly manipulative band director.  There will literally be blood on the drum kit in Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash, an opening night selection of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

If the nebbish Neiman and the Mephistophelean Terence Fletcher sound familiar, it is because they first appeared in Chazelle’s proof-of-concept short, which won the short film jury award at last year’s Sundance and went on to screen at NYFF. Concept proved. That harrowing trial-by-fire is replayed in the feature length Whiplash with a new Neiman, but the irreplaceable J.K. Simmons returns as Fletcher.

Forget Simmons’ character in Oz—Fletcher is far scarier.  He out Buddy Riches Buddy Rich.  Unfortunately, as the director of a Juliard-like music college’s concert jazz big band, he holds tremendous power to help or hinder aspiring musicians.  Needless to say, when Neiman gets his first supposed shot playing with Fletcher’s Studio Band, it is a disaster.  Of course, the kid is set-up to fail when he is thrown head first into Hank Levy’s “Whiplash,” a chart that looks like differential equations translated into Sanskrit.  However, Neiman craves Fletcher’s approval so badly, he will work his fingers to the bone practicing the twisty flag-waver.

Whiplash the short was a nifty piece of jazz-informed filmmaking, but it exceeds all expectations as a feature.  Once again, Simmons is the engine making it all run.  His Fletcher is a natural cinematic successor to R. Lee Ermy’s drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket and Jack Nicholson’s Col. Jessup in A Few Good Men—for real.  Yet, there is a reason for his abusive-borderline sociopathic behavior.  Even more than in the predecessor short, Chazelle’s full length script and Simmons’ performance make it clear Fletcher is always true to the music in his fashion.

While some might be troubled by Fletcher’s homophobic taunts (actually, you’re sort of supposed to be), this is the one area jazz has not historically been a trailblazer for tolerance.  Indeed, many have compared big band outfits to military units and viewers can understand how so from many scenes in Whiplash.

To his credit, Miles Teller also really digs in as Neiman.  There is nothing cute or quirky about his work.  In fact, it is downright painful watching him cower and cringe.  He also looks convincing with the sticks.  Chazelle, the former jazz drummer, probably gave him a few pointers. After all, Whiplash is based on his own experiences with a martinet bandleader (loosely so, we can only hope).

Frankly, Chazelle has done the near impossible, getting Sony to care about jazz.  It is sort of a coming of age story, but it does not exactly wrap things up in a neat little bow. Regardless, it is a major statement from Chazelle.  He really opens it up as a director, staging an unusually dynamic and dramatic climatic concert.  By the same token, his script rings with truth and attitude, particularly for those who are in anyway familiar with jazz education.  The result is a smart, stylish film that swings like mad.  Highly recommended, Whiplash screens again today (1/17), Wednesday (1/22), and Thursday (1/23) in Park City and Saturday (1/18) in Salt Lake as part of the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.