Tribeca ’13: Family and Community Events

It is easy to forget how downbeat and dispirited lower Manhattan was in the months following the evil terrorist atrocities of September 11^th.  The Tribeca Film Festival has become a magnet for film premieres and distribution deal-making, but revitalizing the hard hit neighborhoods south of Canal was part of its founding impetus.  The festival quickly expanded to venues in the East Village and Chelsea, but community involvement remains a priority.  Once again, the 2013 Tribeca Film Festival has programmed a full roster of free screenings and community events.

Of course, Tribeca is about movies first and foremost, so fans will be happy to see the return of the Tribeca Drive-In at the World Financial Plaza.  The series kicks-off this Thursday (4/18) with a true classic, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds (vintage trailer here).  Movie fans should be particularly primed to revisit the Tippi Hedren-Rod Taylor thriller, considering its production was the subject of HBO’s The Girl and Sacha Gervais’s Hitchcock slyly references the film in its clever denouement.

The Drive-In continues on Friday (4/19) with Tim Burton’s career defining Beetlejuice, starring Michael Keaton, Geena Davis, Winona Ryder, and Alec Baldwin pretty much at the peak of their careers.  The series concludes with a premiere, Lil Bub & Friendz, a documentary profile of a feline who became an internet sensation.  Doors open each night at 6:00, with activities like trivia and spooky costume contests taking place before the screenings commence at dusk (roughly 8:15, give or take).  Seating is free on a first come-first served basis.

Maintaining the outreach tradition, Tribeca will again mount the Tribeca Family Festival Street Fair on the following Saturday (4/27).  Many of the events will replicate the motion picture production experience for young viewers, with programs co-produced with the Museum of the Moving Image.  There will also be live performances from the casts of current or upcoming Broadway shows, including Wicked, Annie, Cinderella, and Motown. 

The free screenings continue with The Smurfs, not exactly a classic, but it features the animated voice of the great Jonathan Winters, whom we sadly lost just last week.  The audience at BMCC will also get a sneak peak at The Smurfs 2 as a bonus.  Lines will form thirty minutes before show time, also on a first come-first served basis.  For those who cannot get in, there will be plenty of food, crafts, and games at the fair.

Also on Saturday the 27^th, Tribeca will mount the Tribeca/ESPN Sports Day.  Packed with games and skill building exercises, this year’s edition will feature Mets ticket giveaways, a New York Rangers interactive program, on-sight lessons from the New York Red Bulls, and a special appearance from the Staten Island Yankees’ mascot, Scooter the Holy Cow, whom I’d rather meet than any Hollywood star.

Tribeca also has an impressively diverse menu of events, including special screenings of the Story Corps and GE Focus Forward short film projects.  It is worth spending some quality time with the Tribeca schedule to find all the events that might appeal to your family without breaking the budget.  Of course, there will be no shortage of ticketed festival screenings. Look for individual film reviews to start here soon.

Kino! ’13: Revenants & Kalifornia

If the world were to end, would an old hippie even notice?  The quality of his life would not change much, or so it seems in Andreas Bolm’s The Revenants, part of a double bill of short-ish films screening this year during MoMA’s annual German film series, Kino!

Volker and Ada live deep in the forest with their presumed son Fabian.  Much of their lives involve the verdant woods, but one would not quite say they live in concert with nature.  Periodically, we hear radio reports and voice-overs telling a much more eventful story that is not in-synch with the lulling visuals Bolm presents.  In the narrated narrative an apocalyptic event is underway.  Yet, the central characters remain preoccupied with their own issues.  Ever the old New Leftie, Volker disdains the “militarism” of the hazmat response teams, while Ada and Fabian agonize over his older brother’s mysterious absence.

Or so we glean.  As a hyrid-whatsit, there is plenty of space for viewers to impose their own meaning on Revenant’s ambiguous form.  Bolm provides a few signposts to guide the traffic, but he also enjoys throwing in bits of jarring eccentricity, such as the live rehearsals of Fabian’s garage band friends.

Nonetheless, the apocalyptic narrative is strangely effective, precisely because it is implied so elliptically.  This is definitely a film only a select few will enjoy, but it is worth checking out as a way of stretching one’s cinematic palette.  It is far easier to step into a film like Malick’s To the Wonder, which has its rewards and will undoubtedly find its way into the national conversation in coming weeks, if you occasionally experiment with even more diffuse films.  It is also a good reason to join MoMA, because you can maintain your experimental sea legs once or twice a year without coughing up for an individual ticket.

Laura Mahlberg’s Kalifornia (absolutely not to be confused with the Brad Pitt-David Duchovny movie) is also decidedly quiet and unhurried, but it has a more structured narrative for audiences to follow.  Pavel is a Russian expat living in a detached mobile home somewhere in the German countryside.  After reconnecting from a figure from his past, he packs a bag and heads west towards California, without any sort of reservation or scrap of planning.

Pavel Bobrov is rather charming as his namesake, looking sort like a warmer and fuzzier Derek Jacobi.  Strictly speaking, very little happens on his road trip, but Mahlberg deftly uses her engaging protagonist as a humanist prism through which to refract the disenfranchised humanity he encounters along the way.  It is a small film, but very nicely performed and crafted (especially cinematographer Tony Krantz’s striking work).

Shrewdly, MoMA has scheduled the more accessible Kalifornia (trailer here) to screen before the more challenging Revenants.  Just about anyone interested in German cinema will appreciate Mahlberg’s film.  In contrast, The Revenants is a mixed bag that will appeal to a smaller, self-selecting crowd.  Recommended accordingly, both films screen at MoMA this coming Saturday (4/20) and the following Wednesday (4/24) as part of Kino! 2013: New Films from Germany. For those interested in German film and culture, the full series begins this Thursday (4/18) and concludes Wednesday the 24th.

Aspen Shortsfest ’13: Room on the Broom

Evidently, some animals think it’s a good gig to be a witch’s familiar.  One hospitable witch already has the requisite feline, but they will pick up considerable company in Room on the Broom (promo here), Max Lang & Jan Lachauer’s animated adaptation of the Julia Donaldson children’s book, which screens tomorrow at the 2013 Aspen Shortsfest.

Donaldson shorts have become a Christmas tradition for the BBC, even netting them an Oscar nomination for The Gruffalo.  Featuring big name voice talent and high quality animation, they have also become popular selections on the American festival circuit.  They are a bit formulaic, which is hardly surprising, considering they are produced for youngsters.  Like the Gruffalo films, Broom’s story involves furry animals using their wits to fool an exotic monster in the woods.  Indeed, these are brains-over-brawn lessons that parents should readily approve.

Initially, it is nothing but blue skies in Broom.  However, the spectacle of the witch and her cat swooshing through the air is quite appealing to the creatures they encounter.  Each one asks if there is room for them to hitch along.  Every time the cat says no (they are anti-social beasts), but the witch says yes.  As the party grows they attract the attention of a dragon skulking out of sight.

Gillian Anderson sort of lends her voice to the witch, but she laughs, sighs, and exclaims more than she talks, per se.  Rob Brydon returns for another Donaldson, bringing out the cat’s cattiness with uncharacteristic reserve.  Despite big names like Timothy Spall as the dragon and Simon Pegg handling narration, Broom is more visually driven, completely forgoing the Shrek-style hip wise-cracking for grown-ups.  It is also considerably more endearing for the same reason.

Just so there is no confusion, Broom was a twenty-six minute Christmas special, but not a Christmas story.  With nothing tying it to a specific season, it can be enjoyed at any time.  Recommended without reservation for young viewers and fans of gentler, more wholesome animation, Room on the Broom screens tomorrow (4/14) as part of Program Eleven: Family Fun at Aspen Shortsfest ’13.

It’s a Disaster and They Feel Fine

The world will soon be destroyed, but annoying hipsters remain eternal, like cockroaches.  A small circle of friends (or frienemies) will brunch on vegan stew and saran gas in Todd Berger’s It’s a Disaster (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Hamlet might say the regular couples’ brunch hosted by Emma and Pete Mandrake is a custom “more honored in the breach than the observance.”  Nobody really enjoys them, but they feel obligated to attend.  Glenn Randolph is about to find out why.  He is new to the group, having only dated the romantically luckless Tracy Scott for a few weeks.  Before the scrupulously unidentified terrorists or whatever strike, the Mandrakes drop their own bomb, announcing their plans to divorce.

The already tense mood is hardly improved when the cable, internet, and wireless service all go on the blink.  Eventually, the self-absorbed couples get the inkling something might be amiss, leading to a mad search to find an old fashioned terrestrial radio.

Even though Disaster is essentially a comedic sketch drawn out to feature length, the first two thirds are consistently amusing.  Berger wryly skewers his consumerist yuppie couples, walking a fine line in their characterization.  They are neither too likable for the audience to be overly concerned about their impending doom, nor so unpleasant we resent spending eighty-eight minutes in their company. 

Unfortunately, Disaster craters in the home stretch, mean-spiritedly bludgeoning Evangelicals.  Satire is only really funny when it is based on a thorough understanding of the subject getting the business.  Frankly, it seems like all Berger knows about the Rapture he gleaned from a Left Behind trailer.

Up to a point, David Cross is quite amusing as Randolph and the persistently under-appreciated Julia Stiles displays some nice comic timing as Scott.  Rachel Boston and Kevin M. Brennan also show an aptitude for broad, slightly risqué material.  America Ferrera and Jeff Grace have plenty of shtick as the perennially engaged Hedy Galili and Shane Owens, but they never look or sound like a convincing couple and generally lack presence on-screen.  On the other hand, Erinn Hayes and Blaise Miller are completely believable as the bickering Mandrakes, but Berger largely shortchanges them on zingers.

The unfathomable stress of Armageddon could be a telling crucible to examine human nature in all its extremes and banalities.  Yet, like Abel Ferrara’s 4:44 Last Day on Earth, Disaster largely squanders the potential opportunity.  There are a fair amount of laughs and some clever gags in the film, but it will leave many viewers will a sour after-taste.  Recommended only for full of themselves David Cross fans, It’s a Disaster opens today (4/12) in New York at the Village East and in Brooklyn (naturally) at the Nitehawk Cinema.

Malick’s To the Wonder

It seems eerily fitting that Terrence Malick’s To the Wonder would be the final film reviewed by the auteur’s longtime champion, Roger Ebert.  It is rather more surreal to think Olga Kurylenko commenced production on Malick’s latest in 2010, the same year she worked on the forthcoming but already infamous mermaid potboiler Empires of the Deep.  Yet, any new film from Malick is a cinematic event in its own right.  The director’s admirers will find it is very much a Malickian statement, except perhaps more so, when To the Wonder (trailer here) opens tomorrow in New York.

Neil and Marina meet in France and fall deeply in love.  He is a visiting American.  She is a Ukrainian single mother.  Intending to start a new life together, she and her daughter Tatiana move into his Oklahoma home, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain.  Their dreamy ardor persists for a while, but soon fissures develop in their relationship.  Eventually, Marina and Tatiana return to Europe.  She and Neil eventually feel compelled to make another try, but this time her daughter stays with her (unseen) father.  Despite the support of the equally alienated Father Quintana, the couple’s issues persist.

Just under two hours, Wonder is practically a short subject by Malick’s standards.  However, he makes absolutely no stylistic concessions.  Frankly, it is more like a series of tableaux than a movie, even of the art house variety.  Framing lovely images is a hallmark of Malick’s work, so his striking vistas should come as no surprise.  Yet, at some point, moving pictures really ought to, you know, move.

Throughout Wonder, Malick’s favored perspective on Ben Affleck’s Neil is the back of his head, which is obviously deliberately distancing.  Yet, in a way it suits the reserved and reticent Oklahoman.  Even as Malick and his characters seemingly strain to shut viewers out, cracks of profundity occasionally open up in the film.  In one particularly heavy moment, Father Quintana counsels Neil it is always difficult to be the one who loves less than their partner.  Indeed, Neil has plenty of guilt to process without the consolation of Marina’s emotional reveries.  There’s something for the daytime talk shows to chew on.

Naturally, Father Quintana has lost (or at least misplaced) his faith.  Nonetheless, it is a deeply sympathetic portrait of a man of the cloth.  Malick unflinchingly captures his loneliness and the imperfect solace he finds in service to others.  Javier Bardem might not dig into such deep and dark places as he did for Biutiful, but he still conveys a sense of a man with a long, complicated history. 

Since nobody is really granted a substantial backstory, it is incumbent on the cast to evoke the sense their pains and regrets are rooted in something real and universal.  That is a real strength for Bardem.  Whereas Affleck is supposed to be cold and aloof, Olga Kurylenko is also surprisingly effective and affecting as the passionately needy Marina.

Viewers who lose patience with Wonder are not shallow philistines.  Malick de-emphasizes plot and character development in favor of imagery and in-the-moment impressionism.  It is slow and at time pretentious.  Yet, at the fleeting junctures where it all comes together, it is like the epiphany produced by an audacious free jazz performance.  Dashed demanding, To the Wonder is mostly recommended for hardy Malick followers when it opens tomorrow (4/12) in New York at the Walter Reade Theater uptown and the Landmark Sunshine downtown.

Da Vinci’s Demons: Leonardo Decodes an Ancient Mystery

Could Leonardo Da Vinci have been a member of a Persian mystery cult?  The Sons of Mithras certainly seem to know him, even if he does not recognize them.  The Vatican is also keenly aware of the Maestro, but he wants no part of the Church.  However, it is not Da Vinci’s artistry that interests the Pope’s men.  They believe he will lead them to the Book of Leaves, a mysterious volume of Faustian knowledge that serves as the MacGuffin of Da Vinci’s Demons (promo here), a new speculative historical series debuting this Friday on Starz.

Created and co-written by executive producer David S. Goyer (co-writer of the Dark Knight trilogy), Da Vinci’s Demons could be called a Da Vinci Code for Da Vinci.  Throughout the series, he will be solving puzzles that are part of a larger ancient mystery.  He must also navigate contemporary intrigues (circa 1476).  Although hardly obsequious to the Medici family, Da Vinci is a proud Florentine, because the Republic is such an exemplar of Renaissance ideals.  Of course, the Pope hates the city-state for exactly the same reason. 

Seeing opportunity in crisis, Da Vinci offers his services to the Magnifico as a war engineer.  Naturally, he makes all sorts of enemies in the process. He also accepts a commission to paint the portrait of Lorenzo’s mistress, Lucrezia Donati.  She was already cheating on her husband with de Medici, whom she also starts to cheat on with Da Vinci.  Indeed, there will be a fair amount of sneaking in and out of bedchambers and outright scandal in Demons.

There are light fantastical elements in Demons, but it is closer in tone to shows like Rome and Spartacus, with a protagonist who could be the spiritual cousin of Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes.  We even see the world from a similar stop-time perspective through his eyes.  Tom Riley takes a bit of getting used to as Da Vinci, but he grows on viewers (at least over the course of the first four episodes).  He nicely captures that Sherlockian charismatic arrogance, which is quite entertaining when done right.

Demons also benefits from two attractive yet steely women characters to counterbalance its murderous cardinals and randy artists.  Laura Haddock’s Donati brings a sultry noir vibe to the series, while Lara Pulver (Irene Adler in BBC’s Sherlock) is an intriguing master of realpolitik as Clarice Orsini, Mrs. de Medici. Despite his resemblance to Adrien Brody, Blake Ritson also makes a first class heavy as the Pope’s enforcer, Count Girolamo Riario.

Frankly, Da Vinci’s Demons seems to have about as low an opinion of the Church as Reelz’s World Without End, but at least the nefarious clerics enjoy their villainy.  In contrast, the Ken Follett’s evil Brother Godwyn always looks slightly nauseous.  Indeed, a little moustache-twisting and teeth-gnashing is always enjoyable.  Combined with a Dan Brown-esque mystical backstory and some almost steampunky set pieces, Da Vinci’s Demons brings a lot to the table.  It is an entertaining series that picks up steam, becoming more addictive as it progresses.  Recommended for fans of Rome and The Da Vinci Code, Da Vinci’s Demons premieres this Friday (4/12) on Starz.

Erroll Garner: The Giant Elf

It is easy to do the jazz dichotomy thing for Erroll Garner.  He was nicknamed “The Elf,” but he had a giant sound on the piano.  During his lifetime, he was one of the most visible jazz artists on television and in concert halls, yet he has been largely overlooked by recent filmmakers attempting to tell the jazz story (do the initials K.B. ring a bell?).  For a documentarian, the latter point is a golden opportunity.  Atticus Brady capitalizes on the wealth of archival footage and the admiration of friends and colleagues the pianist-composer left as his legacy in the documentary-profile Erroll Garner: No One Can Hear You Read (trailer here), which releases on DVD today from First Run Features.

In the latter half of the Twentieth Century, if you had only one jazz LP in your collection, it was probably Brubeck’s Time Out, Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue, or Garner’s Concert by the Sea (all released by Columbia, by the way).  He was enormously popular, playing venues like Carnegie Hall, paving the way for Wynton Marsalis and the rise of curated jazz programming in the 1980’s.  

Read nicely establishes Garner’s remarkable success and his roots in the Pittsburgh jazz scene that also produced Ahmad Jamal, Mary Lou Williams, and Stanley Turrentine. However, with his very title, Brady emphasizes Garner’s status as perhaps the last great ear-trained, non-music reading jazz greats.  It is true, but it hardly seems like the fundamental essence of the man. Indeed, Steve Allen argues Garner had a remarkable harmonic sense and was woefully underappreciated as a composer.  Of course, just about everyone knows at least one Garner standard: “Misty,” the inspiration for countless romances and Clint Eastwood’s directorial debut, Play Misty for Me (which happens to be screening this Friday and Saturday at the IFC Center).

Brady talks to a number of colleagues and experts with both musical credibility and name recognition, including Jamal, Allen, the other Allen (Woody), former Garner sideman Ernest McCarty, and Dick Hyman.  More importantly, Brady has confidence in his subject, letting clips of Garner in action play for considerable lengths of time.  That is the good stuff, after all. 

Granted, Read never reinvents the jazz documentary, but who really wants that anyway?  Brisk and entertaining, the hour-long Erroll Garner: No One Can Hear You Read is recommended for jazz lovers and general audiences as an introduction to the man and his music.  It is now available for home viewing from First Run Features.

The Four: Super Wuxia Cops

Yes, they have exotic super-powers, but they really just have massive chi.  They are members of the Divine Constabulary, tasked with fighting crime during the late Song Dynasty.  Unfortunately, their more conventional colleagues in Department Six are less than thrilled to have them as competitors.  There is also a super-villain to contend with in Gordon Chan & Janet Chun’s The Four (trailer here), which releases on DVD and BluRay today from Well Go USA.

Although based on a series of popular 1970’s novels, The Four will not escape comparison to the X-Men, especially considering the wheelchair-bound Emotionless’s Professor X-like psychic abilities.  However, she is not running the show.  The Divine Constabulary loyally follows her adoptive father, Zhuge Zhengwo, who reports directly to the Emperor. 

Emotionless guides their inquiries and Iron Hands, a flesh-and-blood Colossus, works in the field, tapping into his network of underground contacts.  He needs some back-up though, so Zhuge recruits Life Snatcher, a preternaturally spry debt-collector, and the lycanthropic Cold Blood, a former member of Department Six.  One of many characters playing a double game, Cold Blood is actually working as an inside informer for Department Six’s head, the Sheriff King.  Constable Ji Yaohua is supposed to be his back-up, but she is actually a mole planted by the evil mastermind An Shigeng (a.k.a. the God of Wealth).

The Four starts with a counterfeiting investigation, quickly escalating into a geopolitical conspiracy and eventually presents viewers an army of risen zombies.  Instead of cheap scares, the latter are employed as shambling grist for the Four’s martial arts mill.  This is definitely a kitchen sink movie, not particularly concerned about narrative detail.  At one point, An Shiqeng tells Ji: “You can spend the rest of your life trying, but you’ll never guess what I’m up to.”  Well, thanks for the warning.

Indeed, part of the charm of The Four is how wildly overstuffed it is with wuxia superhero steampunk elements.  Action director Ku Huan delivers some gravity defying smackdown spectacle, relying more on leaping and kicking than chi-fireballs.  Already the subject of several Mainland and HK television series, The Four was a couldn’t miss box office hit in China with sequels already announced.  The superstar cast did not hurt either. 

Anthony Wong does his Obiwan thing as Zhuge—and it is still kind of awesome.  [Crystal] Liu Yifei and Jiang Yiyan (who look a bit like sisters, which is a blessing for them both) burn up the screen as Emotionless and Constable Ji, knowing rivals in both the machinations afoot and for the affections of the brooding Cold Blood.  For Jiang (who made such an impression with relatively little screen time in The Bullet Vanishes), it is a real star-making turn as the ruthless yet sensitive femme fatale.

Featuring zombies, uncanny martial arts, and a wonderfully ambiguous villainess, The Four has just about everything one could ask of a big popcorn movie.  Wildly confusing fun, The Four is recommended for martial arts and superhero genre fans.  It is now available for home viewing from Well Go USA.

This Ain’t California: Skate or Die & Unify

The architecture of East Berlin was a crime against art.  Yet, for skateboarders, all that monstrous concrete was practically a workers’ paradise.  The East German skater subculture gets the full documentary treatment and then some in Marten Persiel’s This Ain’t California (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Athletics were a big deal in the GDR, but a scruffy skateboarder like Denis “Panik” Paraceck was nobody’s idea of a Katarina Witt.  He was supposed to be an Olympic swimmer, but his rebellious nature and flair for daredevil stunts drew him to the skater scene.  Although the Stasi constantly spied on Paraceck and his cronies, the East German sports bureaucracy eventually tried to co-opt the movement when they discovered the burgeoning sport had its own circuit of international competitions.  It seems Paraceck initially tried to play ball, but he quickly chafed under their authority.  However, there is also a strong likelihood he never existed in the first place.

While TAC is structured as an elegy to Paraceck, a little digging raised serious questions about the film’s cross-its-heart-and-swear-to-die veracity.  Evidently, Persiel now uses the term “documentary tale” and speaks of the broadening meaning for the genre.  This is not an isolated case.  After garnering considerable festival attention, Michal Marczak admitted At the Edge of Russia was kind of, you know, staged.  (Considering I noted how surprising it was Russia granted a Polish filmmaker access to a remote military base as well as the cinematic look of his subjects, I would argue my review holds up pretty well in retrospect).

Regardless, the underground East German skater community is an established fact.  It seems safe to assume they were on the business end of Stasi surveillance and the PR conscious Party probably did try to recruit them for propaganda purposes.  As for the rest of TAC, you tell me.

In fact, some of the animated interludes are obviously intended to instill a fable-like vibe.  Had Paraceck really burned down the GDR’s skater training facilities, it is doubtful he would have lived to see unification.  Rather, Paraceck functions as a scapegoat-like creation myth of unification.  Supposedly locked in a Stasi prison cell when the wall came down, he missed all the festivities.  By the time he was released, Persiel and their cohorts had already moved on with their unified lives, leaving him behind.

There is definitely a measure of truth to TAC, but it is a fair question to ask how much.  If nothing else, Persiel captures the milieu of the GDR -era.  Paraceck or those for whom he serves as a composite did not want to become political activists.  Nonetheless, they became de-facto dissidents simply by careening about atop a small board with wheels.  Visually striking, TAC combines talking head reminiscences, stark animated sequences, and some impressive archival skating footage (that may well have been recreated by Persiel and a cast of contemporary skaters).  Recommended for those fascinated by the failed Communist experience (but as what I have no idea), This Ain’t California opens this Friday (4/12) in New York at the Maysles Institute Cinema.

Ken Loach’s The Angel’s Share

You can always count on distillers for a lyrical turn of phrase.  In their parlance, the vintage whiskey lost in the barrel to evaporation is called the “Angels’ share.”  It is hard to anticipate how much those angels will partake.  This opens the door for an unlikely scheme in Ken Loach’s working class comedy The Angels’ Share (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Robbie has a temper and a pregnant girl friend.  The former almost gets him sent to prison, but the latter helps keep him out.  Sentenced to community service, Robbie falls under the supervision of Harry, an understanding middle-aged volunteer.  Through Harry’s friendship, Robbie discovers he has a nose, if not necessarily a taste for fine malt whiskey.  He also learns of an upcoming auction of one of the rarest vintages ever distilled in Scotland.  With the dubious assistance of three losers from his community service, Robbie intends to nick a bit of the angels’ share.

The widely accessible Share follows in the tradition of Loach’s Looking for Eric.  It is a crowd-pleasing comedy, but it remains faithful to filmmaker’s proletarian aesthetic.  Indeed, Loach takes his time, establishing his characters and their lack of prospects before launching into the caper.  Yet, it is nowhere near as didactic as his socialist social issues dramas, which is a major reason why Share is so much more entertaining.

While looking the part of a troubled young man, Paul Brannigan has genuine screen presence as Robbie.  The audience can sense there is a real fire within him, in both good and bad ways.  John Henshaw is also quite appealingly down-to-earth and humane as Harry.  Veteran character actor Roger Allam (recognizable from Endeavour, The Thick of It, and Parade’s End) adds a welcome splash of roguish sophistication as the mysterious whiskey broker, Thaddeus.  Unfortunately, Robbie’s three co-conspirators largely come across like recycled stock characters from previous Loach films, but even at their most exaggerated, they cannot undermine the film’s charm.

The stakes are considerable and the milieu is rather grim throughout Share.  Yet, it is an enormously satisfying, perfectly titled film.  A “feel good movie” does not adequately describe it.  “Feel giddy” comes closer.  Naturalistic yet uplifting and consistently funny, The Angels’ Share is enthusiastically recommended for general audiences even more than Loach’s usual admirers when it opens this Friday (4/12) in New York at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema.

Disappearing Act V: 1395 Days without Red

In an inspiring example of artistic resiliency, the Sarajevo Symphony Orchestra maintained their public performance schedule throughout the Bosnian War.  Of course, getting to and from their concerts was often the most difficult part of the show, particularly for those traveling through “Snipers’ Alley.”  The day-to-day life-and-death experience of pedestrians during the Siege of Sarajevo is recreated in Šejla Kamerić’s 1395 Days with Red, which screens this Thursday as part of Disappearing Act V.

Originally conceived in collaboration with Albanian artist Anri Sala, the 1395 Days project resulted in two like titled films.  This is Kamerić’s, which is somewhat longer and features a little art-house star power.  Maribel Verdu, the wicked stepmother of Blancanieves, appears as a woman trying to get from point A to point B.  She seems to be walking through the peaceful (but still war-scarred) Bosnia of today, but she and those around her act as they did during the Siege.  That means they avoid wearing bright colors and run for all their worth at each intersection.  Her long walk is accompanied by the Sarajevo Orchestra rehearsing Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, Pathétique.

Essentially, Kamerić’s 1395 Days (the length of the Siege) is experimental, non-narrative filmmaking, but it represents the most accessible tip of the genre.  There is a real point to the film, but it is not didactic or obtuse.  Viewers can easily grasp what it has to say about the lingering post-traumatic stress of the Siege as well as the healing power of music.  Indeed, the city’s Orchestra and the choice of the stirring but not overplayed Tchaikovsky symphony are quite powerful.

Likewise, Kamerić and cinematographer Patrick Ghiringhelli (ironically shooting with Red digital) create some striking visuals, well capturing the damage that continues to mar Sarajevo.  Verdu also gives another silent but potent performance as the woman. We can see her body tense whenever she passes an intimidating looking man on the street, while her eyes speak volumes about the resolve required simply to cross a street during the siege. 

However, 1395 might have benefited from a mild injection of narrative, such as establishing where she is coming from.  Is it from work?  If so, we can double her trek for a full day and then multiple by the 1,395 days, backing out weekends and days the fighting was too intense to leave home, thereby approximating the cumulative terror of the Siege.

1395 demonstrates how much the right music can add to a film.  As a result, it is not a bad starter candidate for someone looking to dip a toe into experimental cinema.  Nonetheless, 1395 Days without Red is only recommended for those who know they will be receptive to its aesthetic nature.  It screens this Thursday (4/11) at Bohemia National Hall on the Upper Eastside.  Films also screening during Disappearing Act V enthusiastically recommended for wider audiences specifically include the richly mysterious interconnected German trilogy Dreileben, which will screen the following Thursday (4/18) at the IFC Center, and Wojciech Smarzowski’s gritty and haunting post-war drama Rose (featuring Spies of Warsaw co-star Marcin Dorociński) screening at MoMI the following night (4/19).

VIFF ’13: Blood Letter

You have to admit an indictment written in blood simply carries more weight.  Rumor has it a former eunuch scrawled just such a document detailing the Dowager Queen’s crimes.  The survivors of two families she almost but not quite wiped out doggedly seek it in Victor Vu’s Blood Letter (trailer here), the first wuxia-esque martial arts historical produced in Vietnam, which screens tomorrow as part of the 2013 Vietnamese International Film Festival in Orange County.

Nguyen Vu is the grandson of a highly respected but profoundly unlucky court official.  Hoa Xuan and Hoa Ha have more common roots, but their family also became rather inconvenient.  While the sisters lived by their wits, Nguyen Vu found shelter in a monastery.  In their formative years, they all learned how to lay down a martial arts beating.  As fate demands, his path crosses that of the hot-headed Hoa Xuan at a critical juncture. 

Just as he starts snooping round the royal palace Crouching Tiger style, Hoa Xuan makes an ill-conceived attempt on the Dowager’s life.  It is game on from this point on, except not really.  As alliances are forged, some start to question whether personal vengeance is worth the widespread chaos that will surely follow.  Indeed, Blood Letter is not unlike many Chinese historical epics (such as Hero and Detective Dee) that rather openly suggest maybe a little authoritarianism is not so bad if it establishes stability.  Of course, for a film produced in a country with an authoritarian government that is a handy takeaway to tack onto a film.

Regardless, the action choreographed by Johnny Nguyen (so awesome in Clash) is spectacular.  Strangely, Huynh Dong is a bit stiff as a leading man, but he is credible enough in the fight scenes.  As Hoa Xuan, Midu also handles the martial arts choreography like a natural and lends the dramatic proceedings a dynamic screen presence and a whole lot of verve.  However, the most memorable works comes from Khuong Ngoc as Tran Tong Quan, the Dowager’s reptilian enforcer.  All kinds of creepy, he is up there with Yayan Ruhian’s Mad Dog from The Raid [Redemption].

An alumnus of last year’s NYAFF, Blood Letter is a nicely crafted period production that capitalizes on Vietnam’s natural beauty.  It is great when it cuts loose but a wee bit clunky when it soul-searches.  Without question though, there is more than enough to the film to keep genre enthusiasts well satisfied.  Recommended for fans of martial arts cinema and action-driven historicals, Blood Letter screens tomorrow (4/7) in Irvine as part of the 2013 VIFF.

Simon Killer: Really Ugly American in Paris

It is a strange marketing strategy to make a film’s title a spoiler.  Still, it certainly has a better ring than “Simon Pathetic Misogynist Loser,” even if it is not necessarily more accurate.  Either way, it is safe to assume there will be some rather twisted dealings in Atonio Campos’s Simon Killer (trailer here), which opens today in New York at the IFC Center.

Simon clearly likes to play the victim, especially in the wake of his break-up with his longtime girlfriend.  However, it quickly becomes apparent he is a master manipulator with a fair share of sexual hang-ups and character flaws.  Having recently finished grad school, he is visiting Paris in hopes of getting over the woman he still compulsively e-mails.  It takes viewers about two seconds to realize there is a very good reason she gave him the heave-ho.  By then, Simon has taken up with his favorite Pigalle prostitute, Victoria, despite the rather embarrassing start to their professional relationship.

Hooking up with Simon is not a good idea.  It will lead to some reckless schemes and a whole lot of pain, before his eye starts to wander.  She should let him go.  After all, there is really nothing attractive about the free-loading creep.  Unfortunately, logical behavior is in short supply throughout Killer.

Autoeroticism is typically a rather un-cinematic activity, even in films intended to inspire the same.  Yet, Campos takes it to a whole new level of ickiness in Killer.  After watching this film, most viewers will want to stand under a nuclear reactor industrial shower after shooting up a syringe of penicillin.  Clearly, Campos equates seediness with avant-garde edginess, but here it is really just lurid self-indulgence.

As the title character, Brady Corbet’s Byronic hipster routine gets old quickly.  Mati Diop brings an intriguing presence to the film as Victoria, but it is impossible to understand how she could fall for Simon’s dubious charms from the film’s dramatic context.  Frankly, we have seen this all before, right down to the maddeningly ambiguous conclusion—a last ditch effort to rattle viewers, which is really just a narrative cop-out.

There are some nice supporting turns in Killer, most notably Constance Rousseau as a pretty but somewhat vulnerable young woman, who nonetheless possesses basic human powers of perception.  Indeed, the fact Simon does not set off more alarm bells, particularly with a professional like Victoria, is a real head-scratcher.  While far from perfect, Alexandra McGuinness’s Lotus Eaters is still a considerably more satisfying portrait of aimless, morally problematic youth.  Aesthetically unpleasant and credibility-challenged, Simon Killer is not recommended when it opens today (4/5) in New York at the IFC Center.

Lotus Eaters: The Beautiful and the Debauched

If a future generation ever really wanted to create their own unique identity they would study hard, eagerly join the work force, and compulsively save.  Of course, hedonism is more fun, especially when there is a hipster filmmaker around to pretend you invented the dissolute lifestyle.  True to the Bret Easton Ellis tradition, Alexandra McGuinness casts a glossy eye on the London smart set in Lotus Eaters (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Except for Alice, nobody in her circle of frienemies has ever held a proper job.  She happens to be a model.  She would like to transition into an acting career, but that looks unlikely for reasons of talent (or lack thereof).  Everyone else spends all their time doing drugs, having sex, and playing mind games with each other.  This especially includes her not-so reformed heroin-addict on-again-off-again boyfriend, Charlie.  She would like to make it work with him, but he seems too self-destructive even by her friends’ standards.  As a result, she starts responding to the duller but wealthier Felix.  His ex is none too pleased, whereas master manipulator Orna seems to enjoy the chaos.

All critics seem to agree on how striking Gareth Munden’s Herb Ritts-inspired black-and-white cinematography is, which is all well and good.  As a screen drama though, Lotus is pretty much a mess.  The characters are dull, the situations predictable, and the tone is ridiculously self-important.  At least McGuinness is not afraid to cut lose.  Frankly, by the third act, Lotus seems be deliberately parodying itself and other pretentious art films, concluding with an outrageously over-the-top finale that will either cause your jaw to drop or your sides to ache.  That might not be what McGuinness was going for exactly, but at least it makes the film distinctive.

As Alice, the waifish Antonia Campbell-Hughes tends to blend into the white backgrounds unobtrusively.  Likewise, the Byronic bad boy thing folksinger Johnny Flynn does as Charlie gets old quickly.  Strangely, a lot of the flavor comes from the supporting cast.  While some are rather clunky, Cynthia Fortune Ryan is an intriguing presence as Orna while Jay Choi adds some mischievous flair as Lulu.

Oddly enough, Lotus Eaters is really quite a retro viewing experience.  It is all about its surface sheen and neo-new wave soundtrack.  Had it come out in the 1980’s it would have been a sensation, but three decades or so later just feels like empty sound and spectacle.  Recommended for fans of Mommie Dearest and similarly overwrought cult oddities, Lotus Eaters opens tomorrow (4/5) in New York at the Village East.

6 Souls: O Ye of Little Faith

There is nothing like eternity to teach atheist materialists a thing or two.  A malevolent supernatural entity is out to demonstrate the soul’s existence to those who unfortunately lack faith in Måns Mårlind & Björn Stein’s 6 Souls (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Dr. Cara Jessup has no patience with bogus multiple-personality diagnoses.  She is perfectly willing to testify against such claptrap as an expert witness for criminal prosecutors.  It takes a lot out of her though, because she is a practicing Christian.  Her faith was recently tested by the random murder of her husband, yet it remains strong.  The same is not necessarily true for her father, Dr. Harding, and her young daughter.

Also a psychiatrist, the old man is more apt to buy into trendy theories.  As a challenge to his orthodox daughter, he presents her a particularly volatile but convincing split personality case.  Excepting the challenge, Jessup discovers the man’s presumably adopted personas correspond to tragic deaths not far from his hill country roots.  In each case, the deceased’s faith had been undermined by misfortune before their actual deaths.  It all might involve a snake-handling Hillbilly sect and its spiritual leader, the “Granny.”  Of course, while Dr. Jessup follows her clues all the soul-sick people in her life start dying like flies.

If Julianne Moore had created such a sympathetic portrait of a woman of faith when playing Sarah Palin, Game Change would have been the toast of CPAC.  Frankly, 6 Souls is more than a bit muddled in its presentation of religious belief, but Moore clearly conveys her Christianity as a source of strength for Jessup.  It is smart, earnest work.  And then there’s everyone else.

To be fair, veteran character actor Jeffrey DeMunn (the Stephen King prison movie specialist, appearing in Green Mile and Shawshank) is quite engaging as Dr. Harding.  Alas, Jonathan Rhys Meyers is far from a suitably sinister presence as Harding’s patient[s].  Indeed, there is no getting around it—he is just plain dull.

6 Souls opens with a grabby sequence that nicely establishes both Dr. Jessup’s character and an atmosphere of foreboding.  Unfortunately, it is not really connected to the rest of the narrative.  Mårlind & Stein try to maintain the moody vibe, but they keep the proceedings so murky it seems like they might have shot with layer of caked-on mud covering their lens.  There is a worthy lead performance and the kernel of a promising idea in 6 Souls, but the execution is too dark (in a literal sense) and erratic.  Best reserved for genre die-hards who like their supernatural horror with some Appalachian seasoning, 6 Souls opens this Friday (4/5) in New York at the Village East.

The Brass Teapot: The Dark Side of Antiquing

To paraphrase Gerald Ford, any supernatural agency powerful enough to grant your wishes is ominous enough to produce some grimly ironic consequences.  This is something anyone who has read W.W. Jacobs’ “The Monkey’s Paw” or seen the “Man in the Bottle” episode of The Twilight Zone ought to know. Unfortunately, that excludes young, dumb Alice and John.  They are not so great at getting and holding down jobs either, so when they have the chance to make cash from a paranormal piece of kitchenware they are all over it, despite the painful complications in Ramaa Mosley’s The Brass Teapot (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Alice was predicted to become quite the success after high school.  John not so much.  She married him anyway and they both have fallen short of expectations.  Although she is a college graduate, Alice is fundamentally unemployable.  Though technically employed, John will not be surprised to get the axe at his tele-marketing gig.  Enter the antique teapot Alice is mysteriously compelled to steal from a Holocaust survivor.  Through an everyday household accident, she learns the teapot mystically rewards pain with cold hard cash.

Before long, Alice and John are beating each other fifty shades of black-and-blue to move into her dream home.  Naturally, they forget about their real friends and start hobnobbing with the smart set.  However, their new found affluence comes with a wicked catch—the teapot requires the pain to escalate.  There are also third parties who suspect what they are up to, including a horribly clichéd Orthodox Jewish gang and Dr. Ling, a hereditary member of a secret society dedicated to containing the evil handle-and-spout.  Since they are the good guys, it must be voluntarily given to them.  They will not take it by force or subterfuge, which is why Dr. Ling’s brethren are still watching and waiting after all these years.

There is an intriguing backstory to the teapot.  It might even be the most interesting aspect of the entire film.  Nevertheless, the decision to adorn the item in question with Stars of David seems like an unfortunate choice.  Mosley and screenwriter-short story author Tim Macy may not be aware of this, but centuries of hate literature has perniciously linked the Jewish people to money and avarice for sake of justifying some terrible things.  Watching Brass one gets the creepy feeling the wrong sort of people might be able to use it.

Regardless, it is hard to imagine a more irritating couple than Alice and John.  Juno Temple’s pixie charms quickly fray, while Michael Angarano’s John is more of a whiny loser than an identifiable everyman.  Frankly, viewers will soon have the urge to help them earn more cash from the teapot.  Just about the only character that is not pure fingernails-on-the-blackboard is Stephen Park’s Dr. Ling, who is also largely the product of cultural stereotypes, the Asian wise man, but in this case not such an offensive one.

As if aware of her characters’ vacuity and sometimes questionable imagery, Mosley keeps her foot firmly planted on the gas.  Occasionally, a sharp scene breaks out here and there, as when the physically exhausted couple resorts to emotional pain. Even so, the overall film is just a complete tonal mishmash.  Recommended only for those looking to see Temple pouting in lingerie, The Brass Teapot opens this Friday (4/5) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Thale: A Huldra’s Tale

Huldra are not your typical mythological woodland creatures.  These tailed women from Scandinavian myth are very blonde and can be a lot of trouble.  Two forensic cleaners might have one on their hands in Aleksander Nordaas’s Thale (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Elvis is not really cut out for his friend’s Leo’s industrial strength cleaning service.  Their primary gigs are grisly crime scenes.  They do not seem to bother Leo much, but they keep Elvis close to a bucket.  Their latest assignment has them scouring about for the pieces of an elderly recluse, killed under mysterious circumstances.  As they proceed, they stumble upon a secret cellar with a naked woman hidden in the bath tub.

It seems the old geezer had kept her prisoner down there since she was a young girl.  While the deceased evidently performed various experiments on her, the cassettes he left behind seem to suggest he was also protecting her from outside parties.  As if on cue, we start to see strange shadowy figures darting through the woods.  The feral Thale, as the old man called her, also bears watching.  Good luck dudes.

Although billed as a horror film, Thale is long on set-up and short on gore.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  There is a bit of character development in their disparate reactions to splattered blood and entrails that pays off later in the film.  Nonetheless, there is not so much to satisfy hardcore genre fans.  Instead, Thale plays like a dark Nordic version of Splash.

Nordaas deliberately emphasizes Thale’s animal-like vulnerability.  Silje Reinåmo taps into that raw primal innocence.  It is a rather brave performance, especially considering she is naked for nearly the entire film.  It is hardly erotic, but Seth MacFarlane will clearly be able to see her breasts.  Erlend Nervold and Jon Sigve Skard are also relatively engaging as the everyman carnage cleaners.  They have bits that stay with viewers well after the initial screening, which says something for the genre.  Unfortunately, the third act’s perfunctory lack of ambition is disappointing.

Considering the dearth of huldra movies previously available, Thale undeniably fills a void.  In terms of tone and subject matter, it has the virtue of being something different.  Despite the simplicity of its narrative, cult film enthusiasts should consider it when it opens this Friday (4/5) in New York at the Cinema Village.

No Place on Earth: Truly Going Underground

Most think of caving as the stuff of National Geographic, but for thirty-eight Jewish Ukrainians, it was rather more serious.  It was a matter of life, not death.  For eighteen months they evaded the German National Socialists by hiding deep in two narrow, naturally-formed caverns.  Decades later, the survivors tell their story in Janet Tobias’s documentary, No Place on Earth (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

As it often happens, it was a New Yorker who brought this story to light.  British-born Bronx resident Chris Nicola is an experienced caver who originally traveled to the post-Soviet Ukrainian in search of his roots.  While exploring a cave, he discovered a series of artifacts clearly suggesting families had once lived there.  Not surprisingly, the locals were not forthcoming with information.  Nonetheless, after years of sleuthing, he finally tracked down the Stermers and the Dodyks.  They all credit their initial survival to the iron-will of matriarch Esther Stermer as well as the resourceful foraging of the elder Stermer brothers, Nissel and Saul.

When Tobias read about Nicola’s expeditions and investigation (in Nat Geo, of course), she recognized the makings of a good documentary.  Fortunately, the production fell into place in time to record the elderly Stermer and Dodyk survivors returning to the caves that once sheltered them, bringing along their children and grandchildren, with Nicola to serve as their guide.

Tobias blends dramatic re-enactments, talking head interviews, and her on-the-scene footage of the families’ underground homecoming (not completely seamlessly, but functionally enough).  At times, it has the feel of a cable special (perhaps with good reason, considering it is a co-production of History Films), but there is no denying the power of their story.  At one point during their subterranean reunion they cut the lights to fully recreate the experience of living there.  Coincidentally, at this point the video went out at the screening I attended, yet it took a roomful of jaded film critics several minutes to realize it was supposed to be dark, but not that dark.  One could certainly say we were caught up in the moment.  (Eventually, the problem was fixed and the film rewound to the point in question).

The Stermer and Dodyk family members are still very sharp interview subjects and Nicola is a particularly charismatic screen presence.  As a result, Tobias captures a vivid sense of her subjects’ personalities and their lives in the caves, the quality of which was quite high they repeatedly emphasize, because it was free. 

Indeed, this is not the usual survival story often depicted on-film, chronicling the efforts of a good Christian protector.  The Stermers and Dodyk’s relied almost entirely on themselves.  There is a lot to learn from their inspiring stories.  Respectfully recommended for family and student viewing, No Place on Earth opens this Friday (4/5) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center downtown and the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center uptown.