Sikh International Film Festival ’09: Mothers and Aviators

1947 was a pivotal year for Sikhs, culminating in mass migrations from soon to be Pakistani cities following the Indian Partition. Though less well known, the highly controversial 1984 government assault on the Sikh Golden Temple in Amritsar also sent shockwaves through the Sikh community. Of course, the years of 1939-1945 were challenging for most nations, including India, who contributed troops and pilots to the British war effort, particularly in Burma. These dramatic historic events factor prominently in the program of short feature documentaries that opened the sixth annual Sikh International Film Festival.

Ironically, the MIAAC Film Festival screened Shyam Benegal’s big screen treatment of the life of Subhas Chandra Bose, the Indian nationalist who sought alliances with the Axis during World War II, nearly a year ago in the Asia Society’s theater. Last night, the same venue hosted the Sikh Film Fest’s world premiere of Navdeep Kandola’s Flying Sikhs. Unlike Bose, many Sikhs volunteered for British military service, despite their desire for independence, finding disproportionate success in the RAF.

Of course, following the Battle of Britain, RAF fighter pilots were the rock stars of their day, which evidently included the Sikhs stationed in England. Flying interviews the two surviving WWII-era aces, Air Chief Marshall Arjan Singh DFC and Mohinder Singh Pujji DFC. Pujji, who flew against the Axis in England, Italy, and Burma, might be well into his nineties, but remains a great interview, providing the film’s best soundbites.

Flying is the Sikh Art & Film Foundation’s first foray into film production, and it is a good place to start. It nicely utilizes archival film and photos to tell a little known chapter of WWII history. At forty minutes in length, it does justice to its subjects, without becoming repetitive or bogging down in excessive detail. It ought to have a nice run on the festival circuit and would not be out of place airing on PBS.

Though a much more personal film, historical events certainly intervene in Safina Uberoi’s My Mother India. With an Australian mother and an Indian father, Uberoi grew up feeling like a distinct minority because of her whiteness. Her mother was definitely different, often scandalizing the neighbors when she hung her underwear out to dry on the clothesline.

Without belaboring the point, Uberoi also demonstrates how her family history was shaped by the great events of their time. For instance, the difficult trek from Lahore following Partition directly led to her grandparents’ irreparable falling out. Then years later, the events of 1984 would inspire Uberoi to embrace her Sikh heritage and convince her mother to finally become an Indian citizen.

Mother directly addresses notions of overlapping familial, national, religious and ethnic identities. More importantly though, Uberoi and her parents come across as funny and likable people, so the time the audience spends with them (approximately an hour) passes fairly quickly.

Mother and Flying both combine appealing personal stories with turbulent historical events, making them effective selections for the Sikh International Film Festival’s opening night. The Fest continues tomorrow (9/19) at the Asia Society with narrative and documentary short film programs.

On-Stage: COBU EN

As much athletes as musicians, most drummers are disgustingly healthy. Amongst percussion instruments, the Japanese taiko drum can be particularly grueling. Combine taiko with high octane tap dance, and you have one physically demanding show, but it never even winds the COBU dance troupe. While honoring tradition, COBU brings plenty of noise and a hip attitude in EN (trailer here), their new show now playing at the Theater for the New City’s Johnson Theater.

COBU founder and guiding light Yako Miyamoto began her studies of taiko drumming at the age of eight, but majored in chemistry while in college. However, when she discovered tap, Miyamoto came to America to study with Savion Glover. Eventually, she would land the part in the Off-Broadway hit Stomp that she has held for the last nine years while simultaneously performing with COBU (all of which sounds truly exhausting). Yet based on the evidence of EN, stamina does not seem to be a problem for Miyamoto or any of the company members.

Though not originally conceived as such, COBU has evolved into an all-woman company. The seven members (including Miyamoto) who perform EN are indeed thoroughly impressive dancers and musicians. Miyamoto’s choreography is often quite spectacular, inventively integrating the kinetics of drumming with a very funky, hip-hop influenced tap. Some numbers, like the appropriately titled “Combat,” also add martial arts fight choreography into the dizzying mix. Actually, the clash of quarterstaffs and drumsticks looks a bit dangerous, but happily no dancers were hurt during last night’s performance.

Clearly, EN is all about rhythm. Though COBU play a variety of percussion instruments, the large kettle-like taiko drums dominate the program. Throughout the show, you can feel the vibrations traveling through the floor and up the risers. As a result, it is hard not to get caught up in COBU’s groove.

Miyamoto is particularly charismatic on-stage, but the entire company—Hana Ogata, Yuki Yamamori, Micro Hisada, Nozomi Gunji, and Yoko Ogawa—brings an energetic and energizing spirit to the show. COBU’s show should have a similar appeal to Drumstruck, which had a reasonably successful commercial Off-Broadway run several years ago (and was a pretty entertaining show). EN though is a better production, featuring more dynamic choreography and foregoing forced attempts at humor.

COBU is a very cool group that seamlessly blends the drumming and dancing disciplines. EN should be a crowd pleasing show for both hipster New Yorkers and tourists looking for some entertaining on-stage spectacle. Highly recommended, EN runs through Sunday evening (9/20). Following their run at the Johnson/New City, COBU will tour Japan starting October 9th. Cities will include Tokyo, Fukuoka, Hirosima and Sendai. They return to New York for the Madison Avenue Festival December 6th.

(Photo courtesy of DARR Publicity)

Big-Screen Anime: Evangelion 1.0

If Arthur Schopenhauer and Joseph Campbell had collaborated on the Transformers, it might have resembled Hideaki Anno’s Neon Genesis Evangelion anime. Despite attracting a cult-like following, the series evidently became notorious for its philosophical flights of fancy and an abundance of unresolved loose ends. However, a projected trilogy of anime feature films promises to tighten up the story and answer persistent questions, beginning with Evangelion: 1.0 You Are (Not) Alone (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

As the Evangelion reboot opens, mankind is in a precarious position. Having barely survived a deliberately mysterious event called the “Second Impact,” the Earth is now plagued by rampaging “angels,” robotic extraterrestrial beings impervious to almost all earthly weaponry. Of course, the citizens of Tokyo-3 never seem to ask why (perhaps having been desensitized by decades of Godzilla attacks).

The only means of combating angels are the Evangelions, enormous armored cyborg-like fighting crafts that can only be piloted by pre-teens, for reasons we should just accept. While there is a long tradition in science fiction of placing the fate of humanity in the hands of children, Shinji is a particularly problematic protagonist. Unlike Ender Wiggins, his low sense of self worth and acute father issues threaten to undermine the entire Evangelion (Eva) program, which happens to be managed by Dear Old Dad.

It might sound oddly inappropriate to refer to these agents of cosmic destruction as “angels,” but Anno is just getting started. There is some extremely unsubtle Christ imagery in the film, with a clear promise of more to come in future installments. Parents should also note there is some brief partial anime nudity (the technical term for this is “fan service”).

Unlike The Transformers movies, Evangelion has a plot. Still, it is at its best when depicting big hulking robot fight scenes. Graphically, it is several cuts above workaday anime, delivering some impressive visuals, like the huge retractable fortified city of Tokyo-3. Indeed, the animation is often quite detailed, though it never departs from the stylistic traditions of the genre.

Evangelion is briskly paced, grudgingly doling out exposition on the fly. The action scenes are well constructed and its apocalyptic vision of the future is pretty compelling. Aside from Shinji’s neurosis, which gets old quickly, Evangelion is an entertaining, somewhat idiosyncratic anime film (though probably not the best introduction for genre neophytes). It opens today at the Village East.

Klapisch’s Paris

In large metropolitan cities, many diverse lives intersect, while still living in their own socially distinct worlds. Though such multi-character degrees-of-separation treatments have become staples at recent film festivals, when the city is Paris and Juliette Binoche plays the female lead, it is worth taking another cinematic tour across municipal divisions of class and ethnicity. Indeed, everyone is somehow connected in Cédric Klapisch’s Paris (trailer here), a decidedly bittersweet valentine to the City of Light, which opens tomorrow in New York City.

Pierre is dying—most likely. It is possible that a Hail Mary heart transplant could save his life, but he refuses to live in false hope. Estranged from most of his family, he eventually breaks the news to his sister Elise. Though there is tension in their relationship too, she immediately moves in (with her children in tow) to care for him. As a professional social worker and single mother of three, taking care of people is what she does.

Before his body betrayed him, Pierre was a dancer. Now it is difficult for him to leave the apartment, so he contents himself with watching the teeming Parisian life he spies from his window. Across the street, there is the pretty college student who has attracted the awkward romantic attentions of her celebrity history professor. In the neighborhood bakery, the snobbish proprietor oversees her pleasant new immigrant assistant. Nearby, the fish-mongers and produce-sellers peddle their wares, and everyone can somehow be traced back to Pierre and his sister.

Perfectly cast as Elise and Pierre, Juliette Binoche and Romain Duris look and feel like real siblings. Frankly, Binoche is one of the great screen actresses of her time, who always brings something intriguing to each new role. Duris, a mainstay of Klapisch’s films, nicely captures the emotional and physical pain of the formerly vital Pierre as he is forced to confront his mortality at a tragically early stage of life.

When Paris focuses on the relationship between the grown siblings, it is an honest, powerful film. However, the further it wanders from Pierre’s apartment, the less it holds together dramatically. The fish-mongers are in fact quite well delineated, salty characters that have a definite place in Elise’s world. However, when the scene shifts to North Africa to follow the family of an immigrant she counsels, Klapisch roams too far off course (the film is called Paris, after all).

Despite the considerable pain and ugliness that characters endure, the film is still a loving tribute to the title city. Klapisch shrewdly juxtaposes the ancient and the ultra-modern, thoroughly conveying a sense of what it is like to live in Pierre’s neighborhood. In fact, cinematographer Christophe Beaucarne makes the city sparkle with beauty.

Though the multi-character format gets a bit messy, the central story of Paris is ultimately quite moving. Featuring excellent lead performances from Binoche and Duris, it is also an effective commercial on behalf of Parisian tourism. Sure to please Francophiles and Binoche admirers (surely that includes nearly everyone), Paris opens tomorrow (9/18) at the IFC Center and the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

The John Abercrombie Quartet: Wait Till You See Her

Wait Till You See Her
By the John Abercrombie Quartet
ECM Records

In 1974, the USSR expelled dissident novelist Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Oskar Schindler passed away, Philippe Petit walked a high wire between the Twin Towers, and jazz guitarist John Abercrombie recorded his first session as a leader for ECM Records. Thirty-three years and twenty-six albums later, Abercrombie is still recording for the label, now fronting a slightly reconfigured quartet that prominently features violinist Mark Feldman on his latest release, Wait Till You See Her.

While guitar and violin are hardly an unheard of combination in jazz, the Abercrombie Quartet is not at all Hot Clubby. Much of the group’s character is actually derived from the sound of the violin, although the music and conception is undeniably Abercrombie’s. Indeed, the plaintive quality of Feldman’s violin is particularly pronounced on the aptly named opener “Sad Song.” Marked by Abercrombie’s thoughtful solo and drummer Joey Baron’s sensitive brush work, it might sound like a counter-intuitive choice to kick-off Wait, but it is certainly a distinctive one.

Conversely, the following “Line-Up” is taken at a more vigorous tempo, yet it is a freer piece that allows the quartet greater latitude for exploring. The sole standard of the set is the Rogers & Hart title track, originally composed for the 1942 musical By Jupiter (which ran just over a year on Broadway for 427 performances, but is not particularly well remembered today). Again, like “Sad Song” it is a lyrical lament that derives much of its tonal colors from Feldman’s contributions.

Feldman then sits out on the most traditionally boppish tune, the logically titled “Trio,” which is quite a virtuoso spotlight for Abercrombie, ably abetted by the rock-solid support of Baron and bassist Thomas Morgan. However, listeners will probably find the strongest melodic hooks in Abercrombie’s “Out of Towner,” as well as a soaring solo from Feldman, contrasting nicely with Wait’s more pensive moments. Indeed, it might be the most radio accessible track of the disk. The Quartet concludes with their most dramatic selection, the spellbinding “Chic of Araby,” which channels exotic sounds and hypnotic rhythms for a truly trance-inducing effect.

Throughout Wait the Quartet’s seamless interplay is quite remarkable. Abercrombie and Feldman deliver consistently inventive jazz solos while combining the discipline of classical chamber music with the openness of freely improvised music. It is an accomplished group that New Yorkers will have an opportunity to hear live when they open at Birdland on September 30th.

Coetzee’s Disgrace

When J.M. Coetzee’s Disgrace was first published, the South African Nobel Laureate became the first writer to ever win a second Booker Prize, the prestigious British literary award. Shortly thereafter, he immigrated to Australia. While it might be a writer’s job to hold a mirror up to society, it seems Coetzee’s native country was still not ready to look into it. As adapted by director Steve Jacobs, Disgrace (trailer here) is a deeply troubling depiction of South African society that opens Friday in New York.

Apartheid has fallen, but Disgrace’s South Africa is hardly a post-racial society. Rather, it is hyper-racial. Professor David Lurie has yet to fully appreciate this though. As the film opens, his primary racial considerations involve his carnal desires. After a mixed-race prostitute spurns his growing attachment, he shifts his attention to a student. When his unwelcome desire escalates into harassment, it causes a scandal that ends his academic career. Given the steady erosion of the prestige and privilege of his position, Lurie takes his disgrace in stride. Still, he finds it advisable to leave town temporarily, so he visits his somewhat estranged daughter Lucy in the countryside.

If not exactly overjoyed to see Lurie, she initially appreciates the novelty of his visit, notwithstanding the precipitating circumstances. Lurie even makes an effort to fit in, helping out with her flowerbeds and volunteering at a local animal clinic. However, he can not shake his vague suspicions of Lucy’s neighbor and supposed protector Petrus. Then one afternoon, when Petrus is conveniently absent, everything changes.

Three young boys brutalize Lucy, while the severely beaten and burned Lurie is powerless to intervene. As bad as the attack was, the aftermath is even more painful for Lurie. Despite Lucy’s silent indictment of his ineffectualness, she refuses to report the assault to the police. When they later discover one of their assailants is a kinsman of Petrus under his protection, Lucy expressly forbids any confrontations, determined to bear her pain as her share of the collective guilt engendered by white South Africans.

Screenings of Disgrace are not likely to become a Mandela Day tradition anytime soon. It portrays a post-Apartheid South Africa paralyzed by vengefulness and white guilt—a perfect storm of social pathologies. It is not a story of false hope, but weary resignation.

John Malkovich is riveting as Lurie, convincingly portraying his humbling transformation. However, as Lucy, Jessica Haines is hobbled by a character that too often seems to be acting as a symbol than a believable human being. Still, the raw honesty of Coetzee’s story has an undeniable power that Anna-Maria Monticelli’s screenplay preserves, addressing the dramatic situations directly without resorting euphemism. Using the Australian outback as a stand-in, Disgrace also effectively captures the savage beauty of South Africa’s semi-arid highlands, a land that seems to exert a persistent hold on its residents, despite the danger of its remoteness.

Disgrace is often a challenging film to watch, but it is gripping, highly literate drama. It is frankly impressive how uncompromising it is, given the hot button racial issues it tackles. Disgrace opens Friday (9/18) at the Quad.

New Russian Short Films

Think of the qualities we often associate with Russian literature: fatalism, naturalism, absurdity, an obsession with paperwork. They are all on display in the New Russian Short Films program sponsored by CEC ArtsLink in conjunction with the Telluride Film Festival, which screened in Tribeca last night.

Aleksey Andrianov’s The Last Day of I.S. Bulkin, the first and most accessible short, cleverly builds to its ironic conclusion. A mysterious stranger arrives to deliver some bad news to the title character. His time is almost up, but first he has some forms that need to be checked off. Very much in the spirit of great Russian short stories, it is essentially a darkly comedic sketch that does not overstay its welcome.

Regrettably, contemporary urban Russia is now associated with crime, drugs, and even separatist terrorism. Petr Zabelin explores this seamy underworld in Resurrection, the grittiest selection of the program. While it involves redemption of a sort, it is hardly edifying in its depiction of humanity, but a grimly naturalistic portrayal of the ultimate costs of addiction.

Inspired by the writings of Venedict Erofeev and Sasha Sokolov, Natalya Govorina’s Sanitorium (trailer here) is probably the most literate and fantastical selected film, however it is still comfortably linear in its storytelling. A young man with a bucket of beer and a middle aged man wearing pajamas meet like Beckett’s tramps, waiting on the platform of a remote provincial station for a train that never comes. While it is always pretty clear why the two men have been summoned to the Sanitorium station, the strong lead performances (particularly that of the older man) and Govorina’s striking visual sense make it an absorbing journey anyway.

Eschewing narrative form, Shota Gamisoniya’s Fields, Clowns, Apples was the surprising high point of the quartet. Following in the tradition of Alexander Sokurov's Russian Ark, Gamisoniya’s film consists of one long tracking shot, encompassing a host of eccentric people and surreal sites. It is an impressive feat of direction and cinematography, marshaling a wide array of figures in and out of the field of vision, as the camera sweeps through the open meadow. Gamisoniya also makes effective use of the ambient noises, grounding the audience in the natural location, despite the weird events happening in the background. It is a relative rarity: a cool piece of abstract filmmaking.

Though largely conventional in terms of narrative structure and almost entirely non-political, New Russian Short Films is still a challenging lineup of shorts. Those steeped in the tradition of Russian cinema as well as adventurous cineastes would definitely appreciate the work of these rising young (average age of 30) filmmakers.

Expose: Fatal Promises

Mind your business and don’t get involved. Those are words many New Yorkers live by, but it allows some pretty disturbing crimes to continue unchecked behind closed doors. Much to her horror, Academy Award winning actress Emma Thompson learned Eastern European women had been held in sexual servitude behind the blinds of a house in her own tony London neighborhood. That revelation led to her involvement in the international anti-slavery movement and Kat Rohrer’s documentary Fatal Promises, which opens in New York on Wednesday.

Human-trafficking is one trade that does not need any economic stimulus. Second only to drugs, human beings generate an estimated seventy times more illicit profit than the arms trade, according to the film. It is not just women sold into sexual bondage, though that is certainly a considerable percentage. To underscore that point, Rohrer interviews five survivors of modern slavery, two of whom are men.

Katja and Nadja endured the sort of sexual abuse conjured up by the term “white slavery.” Anja would be considered an “economic” slave, forced to toil in an apple orchard without pay, but she was also sexually assaulted during her ordeal. The eighteen-year old Eugene and forty-five year old Nikolai were not afraid of hard work, but were physically broken by their time held captive on Russian crab ships. Their harrowing stories vividly illustrate this is an international problem far greater than a few women sold into brothels.

Rohrer also turns her camera on the international campaign to stop human trafficking, but what she documents does not always inspire confidence. The UN’s GIFT (Global Initiative to Fight Trafficking) spent almost three million dollars on a conference in Vienna that produced no results, but at least the delegates heard a lovely opera aria. After addressing the confab, Thompson derisively described it as “karaoke of the concerned.”

For her part, Thompson comes off far better than most celebrity activists, perhaps because she has a personal connection to the issue. Having befriended one of the women held in bondage in the “massage parlor” that once operated on her street, she has since become involved with The Journey, a multi-media installation dramatizing the experiences of her friend and women like her. (It is scheduled to come to New York in November.) She was even willing to do a Q&A for the film on last Saturday morning in New York, where she never sounded the least bit patronizing or self-important, but like someone genuinely concerned.

Although there are certainly political ramifications to Promises, Rohrer wisely tacks a non-partisan course. When documenting the passage of a New York State anti-trafficking bill, Republican State Sen. Frank Padavan gets credit for shepherding the bill through the State Senate. The documentary also acknowledges the irony that soon after Eliot Spitzer signed the bill he resigned due to a prostitution scandal. As a result, Promises maintains its credibility, making it particularly effective as an advocacy film.

Promises is a disturbing documenting, shining a much needed spotlight on the hidden horrors of a shameful practice. While Putin’s Russia is identified as arguably the most conducive environment, it is clear modern day trafficking rings operate around the world including suburban America and High Street in London. While it might sound like a depressing viewing experience, Promises is an informative film, produced with admirable passion. It opens in New York this Wednesday at the Cinema Village.

Tomorrow on PBS: Note By Note

For jazz pianists, the process of paying dues often involves showing up for a gig and finding a crummy, out-of-tune upright piano. They pay those dues for the opportunity to perform on the elite concert grand pianos handcrafted by Steinway, a process lovingly documented in producer-director Ben Niles’ Note By Note: The Making of Steinway L1037 (trailer here), which airs on many PBS stations tomorrow night.

Eschewing mechanization, Steinway’s manufacturing techniques have changed little in the company’s 150 year history. Note takes the audience step-by-step through the year-long process of making one instrument, the film’s protagonist: L1037. Wood hand selected by Steinway specialists is carefully molded into the basic frame and rests for several weeks before the various production phases can continue. You see the stringing, staining, assembling, and tuning, all done by specialized craftsmen. As a result, almost imperceptible variances in production can affect the piano’s sound in ways that cannot be predicted.

In between production periods, we see classical and jazz musicians testing various models in the Steinway showrooms. Jazz listeners will be happy to see artists like Bill Charlap, Hank Jones, Kenny Barron, and Marcus Roberts presented on a par with classical artists like Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Helene Grimaud. Throughout the film all the musicians speak eloquently about their relationship to the piano and what they prefer in an individual instrument. Harry Connick, Jr., for instances, prefers a piano “that plays back a little.”

It is fascinating to watch the audition process, as elite artists like Aimard test pianos for the precise sounds they are looking for. Due to the fidelity limits of film, the subtle shades of difference are not really audible to the audience, but that is sort of the point. As Hank Jones says at one point, perfection is unattainable. The subtleties of each instrument’s sound are so mysterious they defy quantification and can best be heard only in live performance. That mystery is what Note is all about.

Most of the music heard in the film is fragmentary in nature, produced to test the feel of each instrument. However, if you want to hear every note ever recorded by Charlap or Barron, then you will want to listen as they test-drive Steinways with “The Very Thought of You” and “Yesterdays.” We actually hear somewhat more classical music, since Aimard’s hunt for the perfect piano to perform Ives’ Concord Sonata is a substantial plot point, and not to be a spoiler, but Grimaud’s Rachmaninoff is a fitting conclusion to L1037’s story.

Obviously produced by music lovers, Note is also a surprisingly good looking film. The Steinway facility in Queens must have the best natural light of any factory in America, as it often appears bathed in golden sunlight. For their part, the Steinway employees, while taking obvious pride in their work, relate to music in different ways. Some are quite respectable on the ivories themselves, while others might be musical but refuse to play any sort of keyboard.

Note may well be the most effective product placement ever filmed, if one can afford the six figure price tag for Steinway’s concert grands. It is obviously worth it though. Despite the rarified reputations cultivated by Fazioli and Bösendorfer, I have personally heard many jazz pianists profess their preference for Steinways. As is clear in the film, many classical artists share that partiality.

Ultimately, it is almost shocking how emotionally satisfying it is to see L1037 finish its journey. Also quite surprisingly, Note engenders real patriotic sentiments by showing an American company based in Queens, meticulously hand-crafting pianos sought by world-class artists. It is a finely crafted, thoroughly engaging film that should not be missed when it airs tomorrow at 10:00 PM here in New York on WNET 13.

NYC Shorts ’09: Program C

What does it mean to be free? It is a complicated question for two French vagabond lovers, but for gay Iranian refugees in Britain, it is a concrete issue with life-and-death ramifications. Though radically dissimilar, itinerant protagonists trying to live on their own terms are featured in both Vincent Vesco’s La Tangente and Glen Milner’s Iranian, Gay & Seeking Asylum, two distinct highlights of the 2009 NYC Short Film Festival’s Program C, now screening at 92 Y Tribeca.

Vesco seems to have studied his Nouvelle Vague, as surely most contemporary French filmmakers have. Of course, it is impossible not to think of Godard during any film about passionate lovers, driving heedlessly (or breathlessly) through France, while occasionally contemplating the odd crime or two. However, the couple in La Tangente (trailer here) are not really criminals, despite her somewhat checkered past (which might include prostitution). He however, has a strong work ethic, but willing turns his back on conventional life to be with her on the open road.

Tangente brings to mind the French New Wave stylistically as well as thematically. With its disembodied dialogue, jarring transitions, and emblematic use of pop music, the film often seems to be tipping its cap to the celebrated French auteurs. Fortunately, Vesco maintains the energy level, keeping the audience invested in the lovers, despite their familiar bohemian vs. bourgeois conflicts.

While it would not be the end of the world if Vesco’s lovers settled down and got jobs, if the subjects of Milner’s short documentary returned to Iran, they would surely be killed. That is because they are gay, and the ruling Islamic authorities’ policy on homosexuality is simple: execution, usually by hanging. Though far from exhaustive, Milner’s subjects recount stories of lovers enduring torture to protect their identities, painting a picture of a frighteningly oppressive state.

With a running time of eight and half minutes, Milner only scratches the surface of the oppression faced by Iranian homosexuals. Instead, his primary focus falls on the challenges faced by the asylum-seeking protagonist, an Iranian flamenco guitarist. It is tough being a musician anywhere, but he must have stories that could fill a feature length documentary.

What the mad mullahs do to gay and lesbian Iranians is appalling and the lack of outrage expressed by western GLBT groups is a scandal. Asylum is a timely reminder of human rights abuses committed daily by the Iranian Islamist government. Along with Tangente, it is a memorable highlight of Program C, which screens again tonight. The NYC Short Film Festival concludes Sunday afternoon (9/13) with Program K for kids.

Sal Tieri

Speaking before a vigil during the immediate aftermath of September 11th, Sal Tieri’s mother remembered his hard work and dedication as a young boy, harvesting crabs every morning to help his struggling family make ends meet. That same industrious spirit brought him success and the respect of his peers in the business world, where he earned the position of managing director of Marsh & McLennan at the still youthful age of forty. However, it was his work with Marsh that brought him to a meeting in the World Trade Center on that fateful morning in 2001.

Remembered as a devoted father, Mr. Tieri left behind two sons, then aged five and seven. As a father, husband, brother, uncle, son, friend, and esteemed colleague, clearly many people grieved his loss and remember him fondly. Of course, we should all mourn Mr. Tieri and the other 2,995 individuals murdered on September 11th. We can not even imagine how they would have further contributed to society had they not been taken before their time, and we have been denied the opportunity to be personally enriched by them as friends, neighbors, and colleagues.

Let us hope Mr. Tieri’s family and friends find a measure of solace and comfort on this solemn anniversary.

NYC Shorts '09: Program A

Raymond Carver was one of the leading American literary figures of the last century, whose stories have demonstrated an international appeal. Having been adapted in Robert Altman’s Short Cuts, a multi-story tapestry of Carver’s work, and Australian director Ray Lawrence’s feature film Jindabyne, Dominika Dlugokecka now offers a Polish version of “So Much Water, So Close to Home,” now playing as part of the 5th annual NYC Short Film Festival’s Program A.

Altman’s version featuring Fred Ward, Anne Archer, and Huey Lewis will probably be the most familiar to many viewers. Dlugokecka’s Tyle Wody Kolo Domu follows the same general storyline in which a group of men on a fishing trip discover a body in the river. Rather than cut short their outing, they carry on fishing and drinking, finally reporting the body the next day. However, in the Polish version, there are hints of more serious repercussions for their callousness. However, for Rysiek, the silent censure of his wife Anna might be the hardest to bear.

Indeed, Altman’s admirers should find “So Much Water” intriguing as a stand alone film. Dlugokecka and cinematographer Malte Rosenfeld bring a nourish look and sensibility to the material, creating a sense of real foreboding. Far from idyllic, they make mountain countryside an ominous environment. While Tyle unfolds at deliberate pace, it implies much, with great economy.

In addition to the Polish Tyle, Program A features several other interesting international selections, the best of which hails from Canada. Cordell Barker’s animated Runaway (trailer here) might look light-hearted and whimsical, but at its core, it might be the most macabre film of the slate. Nine minutes of madcap humor, Runaway involves a cow, an out of control train, a little fur ball of a dog, and an engineer’s assistant trying desperately to save the day.

It all hurtles down the track to the propulsive rhythm of Benoit Charest’s soundtrack. Best known for his score of Silvain Chomet's The Triplets of Belleville, Charest’s music for Runaway has a similar vibe, sounding something like a mutated form of early hot jazz on some serious acid. Charest also brought in many of the same jazz musicians who recorded Triplets, including the drummer Jim Doxas and his saxophonist brother Chet, both of whom have played with the highly regarded Canadian jazz pianist Oliver Jones.

Runaway is an inspired act of lunacy, whereas Tyle is moody and unsettling. They represent two very different highlights of a strong set of short films. Program A screens again Friday (9/11), as the NYC Short Film Festival continues at the 92 Y Tribeca. Look for adult programming Friday and Saturday, with a special children’s program closing the festival on Sunday.

Liam Neeson Meets the Other Man

Thanks to Oprah, Bernhard Schlink’s The Reader became the first German novel to reach the top spot on the New York Times bestseller list. It also became the basis for one of the most disappointing Best Picture Oscar nominees in recent years (but it still sold another sizable batch of copies in the process). In its wake, Richard Eyre and co-screenwriter Charles Wood have adapted The Other Man (trailer here), based a short story from Schlink’s Flights of Love collection. It opens in New York and Los Angeles this Friday (evidently without the benefit of a movie tie-in edition of Flights).

Peter and Lisa would seem to be a mismatched couple. He is a burley software mogul with an Irish temper. She is a successful, socially-outgoing high fashion shoe designer. Yet, their marriage works because of their mutual love. At least, that is what Peter thought. However, after fate cruelly takes Lisa from him (under circumstances initially kept deliberately vague), he starts to develop some nagging suspicions. For one thing, there is that password protected file on her laptop titled “love.” When Peter finally cracks the (glaringly obvious) code, he discovers pictures of her Latin lover in highly revealing poses.

Already reeling, the still-grieving Peter becomes further agitated when Ralph, the “other man,” tries to contact Lisa. When Ralph wildly misinterprets a she’s-not-here-so-don’t-bother-trying response from Peter, he decides to track down his wife’s lover for a face-to-face confrontation.

In Milan, he follows the suave Ralph (pronounced like Ralph Fiennes) to a chess club and challenges him to a friendly game (hmm, does this mean they are both “game-players?”). Hiding his true identity, Peter strikes up an ostensive friendship with his rival, while probing him for information and perhaps biding his time for the right opportunity to strike.

While Peter’s cat-and-mouse game might sound Hitcockian, Eyre completely de-emphasizes any potentially suspenseful elements in Other, preferring to concentrate on the angst and insecurities of the two men. Unfortunately, the dramatic situations frequently ring false, too often descending into dubious melodrama. However, he shrewdly exploits the romantic locales of Milan and Lake Como, which take on a glossy sheen through cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos’s lens.

Liam Neeson is an excellent actor when allowed to quietly simmer and slow boil. However, Eyre has him raging and acting out as the distraught Peter, rather than playing to his strengths. Though Antonio Banderas would sound perfectly cast as Ralph, his jittery mannerisms undercut his believability as the illicit lover.

Like The Reader, the implications of Other ultimately seem murky and contradictory. Lisa shared her darkest moments with Peter, yet the film possibly suggests it was Ralph who knew her best. Does Other imply there is as much lasting value in Ralph’s in-the-moment pleasures as Peter’s lifetime of fidelity? It is hard to say based on the evidence of the film.

Other is certainly a superior film to The Reader, but that is a low bar to clear. Eyre, the acclaimed director of Iris and Notes on a Scandal, has assembled the trappings of another high-brow literary drama, but somehow misfired with this story of grief and infidelity. It opens tomorrow (9/11) in New York at the Empire and Sunshine Theaters.

Rashevski’s Tango

Family is where most people first learn their religious identity and cultural traditions. The Rashevski family was long dominated by their powerful matriarch Rosa, a secular Jewish Holocaust survivor who loved the tango. With her passing, the Rashevskis suddenly find themselves reevaluating their assumptions, like just how Jewish they really are, in Belgian filmmaker Sam Garbarski’s Rashevski’s Tango (trailer here), which opens Friday in New York.

After the horror of the concentration camps, Rosa and her brother-in-law Dolpho essentially turned their backs on religion. By contrast, her husband Sammy embraced Judaism, leading to an irreparable breach with the Rashevski family. Though the faithful Dolpho tries to bring him to Rosa’s deathbed, Sammy (now an Orthodox Rabbi in Israel) refuses. After her death, the family receives shocking news—the secular Rosa bought a plot in the Jewish cemetery.

As a result, the Rashevskis, whose past observances of faith were almost exclusively reserved for Passover, start to question their Jewishness. Rosa’s sons Simon and David never gave religious identity much thought. Simon married a Christian wife, Isabelle, but told her not to convert, claiming it would never satisfy those who might object. Their daughter Nina decides she can only marry a Jewish man, even though she is not truly Jewish herself. Antoine, a friend of her rebellious brother Jonathan, seriously considers converting to win her heart, which would technically make him more Jewish than her. As for David’s son Ric, after serving in the Israeli Defense Force, he now pines for Kadijah, the immigrant Muslim girlfriend who dumped him.

Altogether, it is hardly surprising the Rashevskis are experiencing a minor religious identity crisis. At least they all still have tango as they grapple with their faith and conflicting emotions at important family gatherings, like funerals, weddings, and the first Seder Dinner following Rosa’s death.

Garbarski and co-writer Phillippe Blasband create largely credible family situations, except for the awkward Ric-and-Kadijah romance, which feels like an artificial subplot merely tacked on to give the film politically correct appeal. Still, most of the relationships are sharply written and nicely fleshed out by a talented ensemble cast.

In particular, Michel Jonasz and Daniel Mesguich nicely capture the dynamics of two grown brothers with years of shared history between them. Jonathan Zaccai also brings out unexpected depth in Simon’s grizzled son Jonathan, while as his comrade Antoine, Hippolyte Girardot supplies an easy charm and a bit of welcome dry humor in a mostly serious film.

Tango is a thoughtful family drama that does not shy away from its moments of pain and uncertainty. Despite the occasional use of stock characters, Garbarski avoids outright caricatures, dealing with the Rashevskis’ issues of faith with considerable honesty. It opens in New York this Friday (9/11) at Cinema Village.

Good Neighbors: Walt & El Grupo

1941 was a bad year for Walt Disney and the world in general. The future of his studio was threatened by shaky finances and a prolonged strike. Like most Americans, he was also concerned about the state of the world, which is why he complied with FDR’s request to participate in a good will tour designed to counter the growing Fascist and National Socialist influence in Latin America. Successful both as an informal diplomatic initiative and an expedition to gather inspiring new source material for Disney and his animators, their fruitful tour is now documented in Theodore Thomas’s Walt & El Grupo, (trailer here), which opens this week in L.A. and New York.

In many respects, the tour came at the worst possible time for Disney. Reeling from two box-office flops (for the record, those were Pinocchio and Fantasia), Disney found himself overextended. To make matters worse, a contingent of junior animators, steeped in class-warfare rhetoric, launched a strike against the studio, hoping to make it a union shop. Still, in a way, the tour came at a perfect time, allowing Disney to escape his labor headaches, while serving his country by promoting Roosevelt’s “Good Neighbor” policy.

The plan called for Disney and his group of hand-picked studio personnel (“El Grupo”) to tour South America, particularly the “ABC” countries of Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, to forge individual connections as artists and gather material for a film to be produced with the backing of the U.S. government. Even though the resulting Saludos Amigos generated mixed reactions, El Grupo’s tour still appears to be that rare government program that worked as intended.

Despite his initial reluctance, Disney in particular seemed to have a natural talent for personal diplomacy. Indeed, Thomas interviewed many local artists (or their surviving family members) who fondly remember their time with Disney. The art, music, and natural beauty of pre-War South America would also inspire for most of El Grupo as well, but perhaps none as much as Mary Blair. Recognized by the company as a “Disney Legend,” the film persuasively suggests Blair’s Grupo influences can clearly be seen in her work as lead creative for “It’s a Small World.”

Writer-director Thomas and producer Kuniko Okubo illustrate their documentary with a treasure trove a newly discovered photos of the tour and convey a good sense of most of Grupo members. They also evoke some of the vitality of the Latin American cultures the group encountered, including an appealing soundtrack that features the likes of Luciana Souza and Mercedes Sosa. However, the interviews with surviving El Grupo family members get a little repetitive (and their memories of separation anxiety seem a bit disproportionate considering WWII would soon take draft-age men from their families for far longer than ten weeks).

While Grupo feels slightly padded as a full length feature, it illuminates a fascinating episode in American cinema history. It also serves as an effective corrective to the malicious rumors and urban legends that have recently circulated regarding Disney. The man who emerges in Grupo is an artist, entrepreneur, and patriot, who willing answered his country’s call during a difficult moment in history. The glaring contrast with contemporary Hollywood hardly needs belaboring. Informative and well-produced, El Grupo opens tomorrow (9/9) at the Disneyland AMC and Friday (9/11) in New York at the Quad (with free mini-poster while supplies last).

9: The Animated Feature

Ten and a half minutes put Shane Acker on the map. That was the length of his animated short 9, which won the Student Academy Award and received a legitimate Oscar nomination. Now in the tradition of sci-fi fix-up novels expanded from award-winning short stories, Acker has revised and lengthened 9 (trailer here) into a full animated feature that opens nationwide on 9-9-09.

Humanity is dead, victims of their own killing machines. The earth is now a post-apocalyptic wasteland, inhabited only by a handful of stitched together beings and the few remaining rogue machines. Such is the world “9” finds himself in as he gains consciousness.

He soon encounters the old but resourceful “2,” but their meeting is cut-short by one of the mechanical beasts that prowl the surreal landscape. Eventually, he meets more of his kind, identifiable by the digits stenciled on their backs. Of course, each is given stock personality traits, like the cautious leader logically known as “1,” his dumb muscle “8,” the artistic weirdo “6,” the shy put-upon “5,” and the brashly independent “7,” who is probably attractive for a stitched-together puppet, since she is voiced by Jennifer Connelly.

Like its characters, 9 could have been cobbled together from parts of other films. If you think of it as Pinocchio meets Terminator, you have a decent idea of the film’s general ambiance and the direction of its story. However, Acker and animation director Joe Ksander create a nicely realized world, rich in detail. Strangely, some of their most striking visuals actually involve humans, seen in flashbacks or through warped perspectives. Their holographic scenes explaining the origin of the machines are particularly interesting, seemingly stylized to resemble early Soviet propaganda films.

In truth, Pamela Pettler’s screenplay breaks no new ground, relying on familiar tropes and stock characters. It even sacrifices one of the clever plot points of Acker’s original short. However, there are some worthy lessons to take from 9’s expanded story, like the fact we must live with our mistakes no matter how painful they might be, and that there come times when it is necessary to stand and fight.

Unfortunately, Elijah Wood frankly sounds a bit whiny at times voicing 9. In fact, aside from the commanding Christopher Plummer as 1 and the warm, confident tones of Connelly, the vocal performances do little to distinguish the similar looking characters.

9’s animation is quite remarkable, but its screenplay could have gone through a few more drafts. Ultimately, it is probably too intense for youngsters and too predictable for older viewers, or at least those who are not animation aficionados. Still, Acker and his team of animators deserve credit for the talent and effort that clearly went into the visually arresting film. It opens Wednesday (9/9) in New York at the Union Square and Battery Park Regal Cinemas.

QSF Plays DB

QSF Plays Brubeck
ViolinJazz Recordings

Though never really a part of the West Coast “Cool” jazz movement, Dave Brubeck is the quintessential California jazz artist. The son of a hardy cattle rancher, Brubeck would study at Oakland’s Mills College with the acclaimed French émigré composer Darius Milhaud and first came to prominence on the Berkley-based Fantasy label. Renowned for his experiments with unusual time signatures, Brubeck would also compose several large scale sacred orchestral pieces, combining classical and jazz idioms. Given his roots and influences, it seems quite fitting that the genre-defying Bay Area-based Quartet San Francisco would interpret his compositions on their latest CD, logically titled QSF Plays Brubeck.

Brubeck’s Time Out is one of the bestselling jazz records of all time, so it makes sense the quartet chose many of those familiar compositions, starting with “Three to Get Ready,” a jazz waltz that seems particularly well suited to the string quartet format. Yet the QSF (violinists Jeremy Cohen and Alisa Rose, violist Keith Lawrence, and cellist Michelle Djokic) still preserve a sense of Brubeck’s muscular rhythmic drive. They also faithfully translate “Strange Meadowlark,” retaining Brubeck’s elegant introduction and Paul Desmond’s sweetly sincere alto solo in violinist Jeremy Cohen’s string arrangement.

Departing from Time Out and subsequent “Time” themed albums (Time In, Time Further Out), the QSF also cover “The Golden Horn,” a composition inspired by Brubeck’s 1958 U.S. State Department of Eastern Europe and the Mid East. Again, Cohen’s arrangement and the Quartet’s seamless ensemble playing effectively capture the exotic vibe of Brubeck’s melody, derived from “Choktasha-keraderam,” the Turkish words for “thank you.”

“The Duke” was Brubeck’s tribute to Duke Ellington, his longtime Columbia label-mate and inspiration. The arrangement, by Brubeck’s cellist son Matthew, is as buoyant and lilting original, slyly quoting from several Ellington standards in its swinging prelude. Also quite rousing is the brief rendition of “Unsquare Dance,” with Rose getting down-home with the jazz waltz.

Even though it was composed by Desmond, the QSF had to include “Take Five,” arguably the single most recognizable jazz tune ever waxed, which Brubeck has probably played nearly every night of his life since it was first recorded in 1959. In their improvised solos, Rose and then Cohen nicely express their distinctive musical personalities, while Cohen’s arrangement evokes the cool mood of the original.

The QSF conclude with an exploration of the sacred Brubeck, giving a stirring rendition of “Forty Days” (a reference to Christ in the Desert), originally a “Time” composition that evolved into the extended composition Light in the Wilderness. Spotlighting Djokic’s cello, it is the dramatic highpoint of the disk. Their moving performance is appropriately followed by the traditional “What Child is This” (a.k.a. “Greensleeves”), the ringer of the set, but qualifying for inclusion because Brubeck performed as a piano solo on a Christmas CD in the 1990’s.

Throughout the program, the QSF show the discipline of a fine classical chamber ensemble, but also a surprisingly swinging approach to time. The result is an excellent hybrid of jazz and classical forms that should particularly appeal to those well steeped in Brubeck’s music. It is a classy tribute that even carries the endorsement of the Jazz Ambassador himself.

Opening in L.A.: White on Rice

Through an incredible forty-eight films, Japanese audiences enjoyed the amorous misadventures of the lovable loser Tora-san and his long suffering family. During this year’s Asian American International Film Festival, actor Hiroshi Watanabe explained the example of Tora-san inspired his performance as Hajime “Jimmy” Beppu, the luckless protagonist of Dave Boyle’s new indie comedy White on Rice (trailer here), which opens in L.A. on Friday.

After his divorce, “Jimmy” has been living with his sister Aiko, sleeping in the bunk-bed above his nephew, Bob. Aiko and Bob are relatively okay with the situation, but his brother-in-law Tak is running out of patience. Supposedly looking for a new wife, Jimmy thinks he has found her when Tak’s niece Ramona temporarily moves in with the happy family, even though he would indeed technically be her uncle as well.

“Jimmy” knows a lot about dinosaurs, but he is out of his depth romancing Ramona. Of course, a series of misadventures follow, which threaten to completely destabilize Aiko’s household. Will Jimmy finally grow up and get the girl? Tora-san spent forty-eight studio films looking for love, can Jimmy pull it off in one indie?

Rice is at least as amusing as most Hollywood comedies and about ten times funnier than the average Judd Apatow movie of the week. Watanabe hits the right endearingly goofy notes as Uncle Jimmy, despite the creepy Woody Allen nature of his character’s romantic obsession. Japanese actress Nae lights up the screen as Jimmy’s indulgent sister, showing an easy rapport with Watanabe. However, while Mio Takada (recognizable from his appearances on Late Night with Conan O’Brien, but whatever happened to that guy?) and newcomer Justin Kwong do what they can as Tak and Bob respectively, but the parts are somewhat underwritten, relying on the shopworn stereotypes of workaholic father and over-achieving secret prodigy.

Boyle and Joel Clark’s screenplay has a fair number of laughs, some of which are surprisingly large, like the scenes from Ambush at Blood-Trail Gate, the cheesy samurai film that is Jimmy’s one claim to fame (notably featuring the voiceover work of cult-actor Bruce Campbell). Likewise, as the family pulls together, the film essentially avoids overly saccharine sentimentality. Still, Rice has some credibility issues, like when Jimmy spurns the advances of Mary (a.k.a. Banana Girl), who as played by Joy Osmanski, is at least as attractive as his niece-by-marriage, if not more so.

Rice keeps things quick and breezy, wrapping things up in just under ninety manageable minutes. If not the deepest film of the year, it is a harmless comedic diversion and another bizarre screen credit for Campbell. It opens at the Laemmle Sunset 5 this Friday (9/11).

Persecution in China: Sandstorm

Since 1992, an estimated one hundred million people have adopted the Falun Dafa or Falun Gong teachings, despite the best efforts of the Chinese Communist Party. Thanks to the internet, stories of the government’s repression and torture have started leaking into the western press. Writer-director Michael Mahonen suggests the CCP’s program of repression has taken a toll not just on Falun Gong practitioners, but on Chinese society as a whole in Sandstorm (trailer here), a very independent film now playing in New York.

Hetian Ying has a truly awful job. A mid-level police officer, it is his job to break the practitioners rounded up by the force. His boss wants results, and does not care if prisoners are killed in the process. Forced to work late hours, committing acts of brutality that weigh on his conscience, his professional life has even started to affect his time with his wife Tong Mou and daughter Mei Mei. Suddenly, the solace he finds with his family is threatened by a freak sandstorm.

Unable to reach Mei Mei’s school in the storm, Hetian Ying must endure his wife’s silent rebukes, while watching her slowly deteriorate without her necessary medication. Their food is also running out and most of their furniture has been sacrificed in cooking fires. Isolated in their home without power, water, or phone lines, the policeman is forced to wrestle with his guilt stemming from a recent case.

A middle-aged school teacher practitioner was picked up on a tip from his wife. In words that haunt him, she warned the officer that if he continued on his current path, it would have terrible consequences for him and his family. Now it seems he is on the receiving end of a cosmic reckoning. You know what they say about karma. Indeed, it is.

While Sandstorm includes scenes of torture that might disturb highly sensitive viewers, it is actually surprisingly restrained in its graphic depictions of Communist human rights abuses. The film could have dramatized far worse documented cases of the torture, murder, and even organ harvesting of practitioners. However, Mahonen (a practitioner himself) refrains from simply waving the bloody shirt. Instead, Sandstorm makes the point that those who commit acts of oppression ultimately debase themselves, rather than those they seek to subjugate.

Though obviously shot on a shoestring, Mahonen makes good use of his claustrophobic setting. There are no Twister-like weather effects, but the sight of the increasingly barren home effectively evokes the emptiness of his characters’ souls. Sandstorm’s cast, consisting entirely of practitioner-volunteers, is for the most part quite convincing, particularly Rong Tian and Zeng Ziyu as Mei Mei’s distraught parents, who each go through considerable transformations during the course of Sandstorm. On-screen throughout every scene, Rong Tian has a quietly intense presence that is especially notable.

Sandstorm ends on a somewhat pat note that some viewers might have difficulty accepting, but Mahonen’s handling of both the torture scenes and the wider suggestions of celestial payback are deftly understated. Intimate in scope, Sandstorm still casts much needed light on the CCP’s thuggish practices. Now running for a one-week limited engagement at Cinema Village, it opens at the Laemmle in Los Angeles next Friday (9/11).

Surman at Birdland

There is something pleasantly unassuming about John Surman’s stage demeanor, which is a bit of contrast to the conspicuously large baritone saxophone he has mastered. Now a resident of Norway, the British jazz musician does not tour America that often, so his engagement at Birdland is a welcome opportunity to hear Surman and his quartet. It is quite a quartet too, including Surman’s prominent ECM labelmates, guitarist John Abercrombie and drummer Jack DeJohnette.

Logically, Surman and company played many tunes from the Brewster’s Rooster, Surman’s recently released CD recorded with the same personnel. Rounding out the quartet is bassist Drew Gress, also an accomplished musician, who made his ECM recording debut on Brewster. In live performance, you can really hear how well the rhythm section locks in, propelling the music with their steady groove. Surman clearly enjoyed both their musical support and their company, frequently kidding Abercrombie about a recent review that described him as “harmonically restless.” (It was intended as a compliment.)

As on Brewster, Surman the consummate baritone saxophonist, also mixed in some soprano, playing the small horn on three tunes during Thursday’s first set. Indeed, Surman has a beautiful sound on the soprano, which contrasts nicely with his powerful baritone voice. His live rendition of the soprano feature “Slanted Sky” was somewhat more up-tempo and jazz club friendly than the Brewster take, while “Counter Measures” had a similarly spritely vibe, making it an effective set closer. Again, Surman amply demonstrated his remarkable facility for bop lines on the demanding bari with brisk swingers like “Hilltop Dancer.”

Despite the fact that all four members of the Surman Quartet are comfortable with adventurous musical challenges, their Birdland set was very much a swinging affair that had the near capacity crowd cheering with enthusiasm. It is a treat to hear musicians of their caliber stretch out on Surman’s invigorating compositions and it is a relative bargain to hear three major jazz figures for the price of one. They are a great live band, highly recommended to all jazz listeners, especially those who love that rich bari sound. The Surman Quartet plays through Saturday night at Birdland, while Surman’s Brewster is now available on ECM Records. (Also note, Abercrombie will return to Birdland with his own group, including violinist Mark Feldman, at the end of the month to celebrate the release of his latest ECM CD, Wait Till You See Her.)

Kurt Elling Pays Tribute to Trane and Hartman

Dedicated to You: Kurt Elling Sings the Music of Coltrane and Hartman
Concord Jazz

It is one of a handful of jazz albums you are likely to find in non-jazz listeners’ collection. John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, the eponymous collaboration between the legendary tenor saxophonist and the jazz vocalist’s jazz vocalist, is simply a masterpiece of romantic balladry. Earlier this year, Kurt Elling paid tribute to the two Johns during the Lincoln Center’s American Songbook series, with special concert performances now preserved on the live CD Dedicated to You: Kurt Elling Sings the Music of Coltrane and Hartman.

While Elling performs all six tunes from the classic album, he and pianist-collaborator Lawrence Hobgood avoid note-for-note recreations. Where Hartman simply joined Coltrane’s regular working quartet (comprised of the now revered McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones, and Jimmy Garrison on piano, drums, and bass, respectively), Elling is backed by Hobgood’s trio and the ETHEL string quartet, with Ernie Watts guesting courageously on tenor saxophone for seven tunes.

Dedicated begins with “All or Nothing at All,” one of five tracks that were not part of the Coltrane-Hartman set, but were covered by the tenor titan’s appropriately named Ballads record, an instrumental session with a similarly romantic vibe. It proves a fine vehicle for Elling, but the most heat comes during Watts’ passionate solo.

Rodgers and Hart’s “It’s Easy to Remember” also comes to the program by way of Coltrane’s Ballads, but Elling’s interpretation takes it in a completely new direction, using the standard’s melody to subtly underscore the story of Coltrane and Hartman’s historic 1963 session. Having often included poetry and spoken word elements in prior performances, Elling’s narration is suitably sensitive and surprisingly pleasing, holding up remarkably well with repeated listening. Like the entire session, it is a classy tribute to the two jazz legends.

“Dedicated to You,” the first selection from the Coltrane-Hartman session proper, is a true vocal tour-de-force from Elling. It also features notably intriguing string arrangements and some crisply eloquent solo statements from Hopgood, making it one of Dedicated’s standout tracks. Though the Coltrane-Hartman is considered one of jazz’s most romantic albums ever, it includes Billy Strayhorn’s “Lush Life,” one of the great anti-love songs. Elling’s dramatic performance conveys both the dreamy spirit of Hartman’s interpretation as well as the world weary meaning of Strayhorn’s lyrics.

Elling and company put their own stamp on “They Say It’s Wonderful” taking it as an up-tempo swinger, allowing Hopgood to really cut loose in his solo. Conversely, their rendition of “My One and Only” is even more languid and melancholy than 1963 version. Dedicated concludes with Elling’s achingly lyrical take on “You Are Too Beautiful,” ending the program on a definite high note.

Given his image as an edgy hipster, a neo-classical songbook tribute might seem a surprising choice from Elling, but he approaches the material with audible ardor. Dedicated is a heartfelt, respectful, and frequently swinging tribute concert CD that should appeal to a wide spectrum of listeners, much as the original Coltrane-Hartman session has.

John Cassavetes’ Shadows

Every American filmmaker who ever told the Hollywood studios to stick it in their ear is a spiritual descendent of John Cassavetes. He truly defined how we like to think of independent filmmakers. Touching on taboo topics and displaying a pronounced jazz influence, Shadows (trailer here), Cassavetes’ first film as a director, remains a singularly personal cinematic vision, making it a perfect selection for the Lincoln Center Film Society’s upcoming Watershed retrospective of signature films from some of world cinema’s most influential auteurs.

Strictly speaking, the canonical Shadows is Cassavetes’ second film, the first being his previous more experimentally free-form take on the same characters and general situations. Long thought lost, Shadows 1.0 has since been found, but has not been widely screened. For most, the theatrically released Shadows is still daring enough for most viewers.

Lelia and her brother Ben are light-skinned African Americans. Though not deliberately trying to pass, her prospective new boyfriend Tony assumes they are white. However, when their dark-skinned brother Hugh, a struggling jazz vocalist, comes home from an out-of-town engagement, Tony causes quite an unfortunate scene. Of course, Shadows is really more about being in-the-moment with its characters than any conventional dramatic narrative, no matter how controversial such interracial relationships might have been for some in 1959.

Though Shadows reportedly was not as improvised as commonly thought (“The film you have just seen was an improvisation” reads the concluding titles), it retains a certain jazz ethos. Charles Mingus was to score the film, but ultimately he and his alto saxophonist only contributed some brief solo and duo sketches. Still they perfectly fit the scenes they underscore, including an ill-advised rumble between Ben’s ne’er-do-well friends and a group of physically larger lowlifes. (Ironically, Cassavetes’ next film as a director would be a jazz drama, Too Late Blues, his first of only two Hollywood helming assignments, featuring the miscast pairing of Bobby Darrin and Stella Stevens.)

While Shadows is not specifically about jazz, the realities of a jazz musician’s life intrude into the messy personal dramas of Cassavetes’ characters. Hugh, as played by Hugh Hurd, actually seems to have a reasonably pleasant voice from what little the audience hears. Unfortunately, he is scuffling, reduced to sharing bills with shake-dancers for unappreciative audiences.

Appropriately though, Hugh and his manager Ruppert, played by Rupert Crosse (yes, the actors and their characters all share the same first name), provide the film’s likable rooting interests. They might be imperfect and frequently bicker with each other, but they are never hurtful or petty. As for Ben, Tony, and even Lelia, they are all too human, often acting in churlish, spiteful, and immature ways. Indeed, Cassavetes’ lens can be unforgiving, capturing damning gestures in ruthless close-ups. Still, Cassavetes also shows a sense humor in Shadows, as when he scathingly satirizes hipster intellectuals during a pretentious literary soiree.

Almost fifty years to the date of its original theatrical release, Shadows still has the power to both engross and frustrate audiences. It is a gritty, unflinching drama everyone ought to see at least once. It screens at the Walter Reade Theater this coming Monday (9/7).

Brit Noir: Odd Man Out

In 1953, Carol Reed became only the second British film director to be knighted for his artistic accomplishments. Fifteen years later he would win an Academy Award for Oliver!, the kind of safe, middlebrow film Oscar voters love, but film buffs despise. However, Reed can easily be forgiven his musical foray, having directed three true masterpieces of British Film Noir: The Third Man (1949), The Fallen Idol (1948), and Odd Man Out (1947), the first and perhaps moodiest of the trio. Despite its largely sympathetic portrayal of an IRA protagonist, it helped cement James Mason’s status as one of the United Kingdom’s biggest stars. Now in honor of Mason’s centennial, Film Forum presents Reed’s Odd in a new 35mm print, as part of its Brit Noir and Mason Most Noir repertory film series, beginning this Friday.

Johnny McQueen believes fervently in the IRA cause. Unfortunately, his time in prison took a toll on him, physically and mentally. However, he is still determined to go on their next heist job as planned, rather than send another man in his place. Everyone fears for the worst, most of all Kathleen Sullivan, whose affections McQueen is too much the martyr to recognize.

Of course, things go terribly wrong. During their getaway, McQueen kills a man and is gravely wounded himself. Separated from his comrades, he desperately seeks shelter, while a massive dragnet proceeds to scoop up the crew, one by one.

Somehow Reed and screenwriters F.L. Green and R.C. Sherriff were able to produce a film based on Green’s novel about the Troubles of Northern Ireland that never mentions Catholics, Protestants, or the British. Instead, they create a noir world, where many people profess to support McQueen and his cause, but nobody wants to get involved. Essentially, Odd chronicles McQueen’s death rattle, as he teeters through the streets of what is presumably Belfast, while the police and Sullivan scramble to find him first.

Noir is definitely the right word to describe Robert Krasker’s beautiful black-and-white cinematography. He also strikingly captures McQueen’s feverish waking dreams as his consciousness starts to slip. Though gritty and realistic, Odd eventually takes on a nightmarish cast, particularly during scenes involving a dubious artist intent on capturing McQueen’s anguished expressions.

Mason is indeed compelling as the tragic anti-hero, who seems doomed from the first frame, yet does his best to meet his fate with stoic resolve. While most of the cast are relatively unknown to American audiences, William Hartnell, the first Doctor Who, appears as Fencie the barkeeper. Still, the entire cast is quite convincing, having been largely recruited from the Abbey Theatre of Dublin, including co-founder W.G. Wray, as the well-meaning but pragmatic Father Tom.

Odd is one of Reed’s three great films and certainly a highpoint in Mason’s filmography as well. While American audiences might identify Mason more with British prestige pictures, the Film Forum retrospective lovingly presents him in a more nefarious light. Odd runs for two weeks, beginning this Friday (9/4-9/17).