2011 Oscar Nominated Shorts: Live Action

The best of this year’s Oscar nominated live action short films have a measure of faith, including two sympathetic Catholic priests and some old world Greco-Roman paganism. A fair number of angst-ridden young kids also populate the final five live action contenders, which screen as part of the 2011 Academy Award nominated shorts program (trailer here) opening this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

The class of the field comes from Brooklyn, where everyone is too cool for love, except the frustrated protagonist of Luke Matheny’s God of Love (trailer here), Raymond Goodfellow, a crooner of standards and a highly-ranked competitive darts thrower. That certainly adds a unique dimension to his nightclub sets. Unfortunately, the chemistry with his band is a bit off. He is head-over-heels for his drummer, but she pines for Goodfellow’s best friend-guitarist. Much to his surprise, his ardent nondenominational prayers are answered in the form of a box of magic darts that render their target romantically vulnerable for six hours.

Witty and likably neurotic, Love clearly suggests the influence of Woody Allen, but writer-director Matheny shows wise restraint, never trying too hard. As Goodfellow, he also sounds rather agreeable on Irving Berlin’s “All By Myself.” Deftly mixing sly humor with unabashed romanticism, it is definitely a winner, regardless of what the envelope says.

The unfortunate young protagonist of Ian Barnes’ Wish 143 also has trouble fulfilling his desires. The local wish-granting charity keeps offering to introduce the terminally ill patient to a British footballer, but he would much rather meet a woman, preferably naked and willing. In a pleasant surprise, Wish probably represents the most sympathetic portrayal of a priest on film this year. Jim Carter, poised to breakout in America for his work as Carson the butler on Downton Abbey, invests the good hospital chaplain with genuine warmth and humor. A bit pat but deeply humane, Wish is a perfectly nice little short.

Despite sharing some similar elements with Wish, Tanel Toom’s The Confession (trailer here) is moody, even approaching the point of gothic. Sam is a good kid—so good in fact, he worries about not having anything to say it his first confession. Unfortunately, his buddy Jacob is only too willing to serve as the devil on his shoulder, suggesting a practical joke with a farmer’s scarecrow to give Sam something to confess. When the prank goes awry, it sets off a tragic series of events that will cost Sam dearly.

However, Confession’s priest is never portrayed as a moralizing caricature. Rather, he seems quite decent and well-meaning. Indeed, Sam’s failure is so disturbing because the priest obviously believes in grace and forgiveness. Nicely executed by Toom, Confession is a film of considerable substance.

While Ivan Goldschmidt’s Na Wewe also tackles the dark side of human nature, the Rwandan morality play falls short of its earnest intentions. Most problematically, the gimmicky plot twist comes perilously close to trivializing the 1994 genocide. Definitely the weakest of the program, Michael Creagh’s The Crush might have been conceived as a statement about violence, as well. Yet, given the lack of consequences in the story of an Irish schoolboy infatuated with his teacher, it is hard to really discern any deeper significance.

As with most Oscar categories, the nominated live action shorts are a mixed bag. God of Love is a blast, but one wonders if it might ultimately be too hip for the Academy—and yet here it is still in-contention and earning new fans. Confession is also an impressive piece of filmmaking, whereas Wish 143 boasts some very fine performances. While the lesser two nominees are essentially harmless (and probably frontrunners), Matheny, Barnes, and Toom’s films together make up a very strong program, which opens this Friday (2/11) in New York at the IFC Center.

The Wild East: Cold Summer of ’53

News traveled slowly to the outer Republics. One provincial Soviet town had no idea Khrushchev’s De-Stalinization campaign was underway, but it has immediate repercussions for them all in Aleksandr Proshkin’s Cold Summer of ’53, which screens as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s The Wild East, a retrospective of vintage Soviet action films set in the Central Asian Republics starting this Friday.

Chaff and Spade sound like buddy-cops, but they have been deemed criminals—“enemies of the people,” in fact. The older Spade once traveled abroad, thus making him a “British spy,” whereas the younger Chaff had the misfortune of briefly being captured by the Germans during WWII. They are former political gulag inmates serving the balance of their sentences in exile somewhere in North East. If not warmly welcoming, the villagers accept the political criminals in their midst. Unfortunately, they will soon encounter a band of real criminals up-close-and-personal.

Bitterly disillusioned, the regional militia officer Mankov takes grim satisfaction informing the village apparatchik of Beria’s denouncement. The former interior minister’s general amnesty of the gulag’s legitimate criminal element has made his life much harder. Naturally, “political” convicts like Chaff and Spade were unaffected, but there would be cause for hopeful speculation if they knew how the winds were blowing. However, they have more immediate concerns when the marauding gang of former “thieves by law” takes the town hostage. With the town’s Communist figureheads either dead or instinctively kowtowing to their new bosses, it is up to Chaff and Spade to give them the Die Hard treatment.

Proshkin and screenwriter Edgar Dubrovsky reportedly slipped the political context into Summer while filming was underway. Even by Glasnost standard, it is still remarkably outspoken about the Stalin-era repression for a Soviet film. Still, it is rather clear they were reluctant to address “Uncle Joe” directly, laying responsibility for the great purges specifically at Beria’s feet. Indeed, just who did he work for and how much autonomy do they suppose he had? Be that as it may, Summer forthrightly condemns the Gulag justice administered under his watch, lamenting the wasted lives that resulted. Proshkin does so especially subtly and poetically in one of the closing scenes of the Summer’s exteneded denouement.

As an action film, Summer is certainly serviceable, getting an intense anti-hero turn from the Daniel Craig-looking Valery Priyomykhov as Chaff. In his final screen role, Soviet comedic actor Anatoly Papanov adds a genuine note of pathos as Spade. Frankly, the real villains are not the hostage takers (mostly generic, except for their wiry ringleader with a Napoleon complex), but the cringe-inducing village authority figures, who earn the audience’s contempt in spades. Perhaps the film’s only drawback is its rather stereotypical depiction of Soviet women, particularly the insensitive portrayal of the deaf matronly Lydia, the mother of the buxom Shura.

The comparison between Soviet Easterns and the American Westerns is particularly apt in the case of Summer. Proshkin and cinematographer Boris Brozhovsky capture a vivid sense of the region’s big skies and rugged landscape. Having in effect lost his name, Chaff certainly shares a kinship with Eastwood’s High Plains Drifter as well. Undeniably a film of its moment, Summer was an enormous hit when first released in the dissolving USSR, yet in retrospect it still holds an intriguing appeal for both action and art-house audiences. Though a bit of ringer, it is a welcome inclusion in the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Wild East series, when it screens this Friday (2/11) and the following Tuesday (2/15) at the Walter Reade Theater.

ReelAbilities ’11: My Spectacular Theater

Film distribution is a tricky proposition in China. Strict regulations govern what constitutes a “film festival,” while some of the country’s most celebrated filmmakers are only screened through bootlegs. One dodgy hawker of pirate DVDs gains a fresh appreciation of the power of cinema in Lu Yang’s My Spectacular Theater, which screens during the 2011 ReelAbilities in New York.

On the run from the coppers (mysteriously interested in protecting intellectual property), Chen Yu stumbles into old Gao’s theater. He even takes out the video, but the patrons do not seem to notice. They are either blind or severely vision-impaired movie lovers, who partake of Gao’s live description assistance. Recruited as Gao’s apprentice, Chen Yu does not see the specialized theater as a long term prospect. He needs something more corporate to satisfy his uptown girlfriend. Yet slowly but surely, he becomes involved with the lives of their patrons, especially, the cute Xiao Ow, a young student feigning blindness to attract his attention.

Given its sociologically relevant subject matter, Spectacular certainly represents independent Chinese cinema. Particularly daring is the historical context of Gao’s backstory. Though Lu understandably refrains from graphic details, it is clear the old man honed his descriptive skills for his wife following an incident during what is obviously the Cultural Revolution (though those exact words are never uttered).

While the third act partakes of a misguided narrative indulgence, the film itself has plenty of heart. Liu Yuan Yuan is a genuine standout as Liu May, a luminously beautiful cinema patron. Her tentative relationship with a recently blinded photographer is quite honest and moving. In the romantic lead, Zhou Yiwei is more-or-less adequate as Chen Yu, but Yizha brings real spirit and verve to the film as his admirer, Xiao Ow. Perfectly understated and dignified, Jin Shijie holds it all together as old Gao, handling his ease into senility with grace and conviction.

Clearly, Spectacular fits the bill for ReelAbilities in several respects. While one wonders how accommodating Chinese society really is for its vision-impaired citizens, Lu and co-writer Chen Shu clearly do not exempt the go-go new China from criticism. Indeed, Gao’s theater is presented as an oasis of empathy and acceptance. A very strong feature directorial debut, Spectacular is highly recommended when it screens again tomorrow (2/8) at the Chatham Square Library, as the 2011 ReelAbilities concludes at points throughout the City.

ReelAbilities ’11: Warrior Champions

They sustained life changing injuries, but they can still kick your butt. For several wounded American servicemen, the chance of making the Paralympic Games provides camaraderie, a goal to focus on, and hopefully the opportunity to represent their country once again. Craig and Brent Renaud follow four such veterans pursuing Olympic gold on an accelerated training schedule in Warrior Champions: From Baghdad to Beijing (trailer here), which screens during the 2011 ReelAbilities, at the Manhattan JCC and points throughout all five boroughs.

Melissa Stockwell already had a claim on history as the first American female soldier to lose a limb in combat. After running the New York Marathon with a prosthetic leg (a feat predating the events of Warrior) she sets out to become the first veteran to make the U.S. Paralympic swim team. Kortney Clemons has a similar goal for the U.S. track team. A medic wounded in the final weeks of his tour while attempting reach wounded soldiers, Clemons is the only POV character to directly address the attack that robbed him of his leg, yet remarkably he expresses no bitterness.

While disillusioned might be too strong a term, Marine Carlos Leon certainly prefers to concentrate on discuss training rather than airing his views on the military. In contrast, his shot-putter roommate Scott Winkler remains as eloquently patriotic as ever. A born motivational speaker who definitely has a successful political career in his future if he so desires, Winkler spends nearly as much time recruiting fellow wounded veterans and counseling paraplegic children. Leon worries it might cost Winkler a spot on the team, but Winkler will not be dissuaded from giving back.

Much to the frustration of some New Yorkers at last night’s screening, the Renaud Brothers carefully avoid re-debating the Iraq War, instead focusing on their subjects and the therapeutic value of sport in their recovery. Nearly a two-man band, they also served as cinematographers and co-edited with Eddie Stein. Perhaps they should have composed the music as well, because the tinny-sounding canned soundtrack is a bit distracting at times. (I can recommend some fantastic emerging musician-composers for their next project.)

Few have sacrificed as much as Warrior’s central figures and lived to tell about it. Yet, their love of country remains unshakable. Indeed, it is hard to not get a little misty-eyed when the film finally reaches Beijing. Frankly, it is one of the most patriotic documentaries currently playing the festival circuit. Touching and refreshingly nonpartisan, Warrior screens again this afternoon (2/7) at Hostos Community College in the Bronx and tomorrow (2/8) at the Central Queens Library, as ReelAbilities continues throughout the City. It is also available on DVD at the film’s website.

2011 Oscar Nominated Shorts: Animation

It is quite the literate field for this year’s Oscar nominated short films. Two are based on acclaimed children’s books and one was inspired by the creator’s travel journal. All three are accomplished films, worthy of the ultimate prize. All five 2011 nominees along with two other shortlisted films screen as part of the program of Academy Award nominated shorts opening this Friday in New York at the IFC Center.

If The King’s Speech sweeps this year’s Oscars, perhaps it will pull along Jakob Schuh and Max Lang’s The Gruffalo (trailer here) along with it. After all, it features the voice talents of Helena Bonham Carter as a mother squirrel, who tells her children the tale of a rather resourceful mouse. The rodent-protagonist scares off various forest predators with tales of his supposed friend, the dread Gruffalo. Much to the mouse’s surprise, the Gruffalo really exists, looking pretty much as he described, but with the voice of Robbie Coltrane. While older viewers will probably have a good idea where Gruffalo is heading right from the start, it is charming film with some rather clever bits of business, wholly appropriate for all ages.

While Shaun Tan and Andrew Ruhemann’s The Lost Thing (trailer here) is also based on a children’s book (written and illustrated by Tan), it is told from the reflective perspective of a man of somewhat mature age wistfully looking back at a mysterious event from his childhood. Discovering some sort of alien or fantastical creature at the beach (apparently a mollusk in an armored tea kettle), the narrator tries to figure out what to do with this new friend the adult world tries it best to ignore. A strange but gentle fable, Thing is visually arresting and surprisingly meditative. It is easily the most substantive of the animated nominees.

Stylistically, Bastien Dubois’s Madagascar, carnet de voyage (trailer here) is by far the animated line-up’s most distinctive work. Employing watercolor and sketches of varying degrees of sketchiness, Dubois vividly brings his travel journal-scrap-book to life, animating episodes from his year-long sojourn through Madagascar. In terms of story, it is a wee bit thin. Indeed, it could easily serve as a promotional film for Madagascar’s tourism bureau, but its graceful élan and spirited vibe distinguishes Carnet apart from the competition.

The only real clunker amongst the nominated field is probably the leading contender, Geefwee Boedoe’s one-note didactic anti-capitalist polemic Let’s Pollute. This year’s Pixar slot was filled by Teddy Newton’s Day & Night, which is as safe and pleasant as one might expect. Rounding out the animation program are two shortlisted titles that did not make the final cut. Bill Plympton’s The Cow Who Wanted to be a Hamburger was probably selected simply on the basis of the filmmaker’s reputation. In contrast, Moritz Mayerhofer’s archetypal Urs is a striking work that might have benefited from a bit more narrative muscle.

This is a stronger year than usual for Oscar nominated short form animation, with at least three very strong films still in contention. Indeed, the combination of Gruffalo, Thing, and Carnet (and to a lesser extent Urs) makes the animated program well worth seeing when it opens this Friday (2/11) in New York at the IFC Center.

From Sundance to HBO: Jarecki’s Reagan

In an ironic way, President Ronald Reagan might have approved of the approach taken by his documentary profiler, Eugene Jarecki, at least in principle. While readily conceding personal virtues, Jarecki gives no quarter in the political arena. Such a strategy earned Jarecki Pavlovian praise for his “evenhandedness” at the 2011 Sundance Film Festival, but it contributes little to the public discourse. Instead, Jarecki essentially offers viewers the same old canned talking points in Reagan, which debuts on HBO tomorrow night.

Frankly, Jarecki’s polemical Reagan is best when covering the early Reagan years. A better actor than generally acknowledged, Reagan was eager to serve his country during WWII. Unfortunately, he was nearly as blind as a film critic, which to his genuine regret, kept out of combat duty. However, the metaphor Jarecki latches onto is Reagan the lifeguard, the vision-impaired teenager who pulled seventy-seven floundering swimmers to safety.

In contrast, when addressing the political, Jarecki is far from an honest broker. He only cursorily discusses Reagan’s time as the Screen Actor’s President, largely to speculate whether the future president named names. Had he delved deeper, he would have examined Reagan’s alarm at the extent to which Communist and fellow-traveling factions had co-opted Hollywood’s unions and progressive organizations. Of course, this would challenge long held articles of faith regarding Hollywood and the HUAC committee, which Jarecki obviously was not about to do. Better to play it safe.

As a result, this omission leaves Reagan’s evolution from Roosevelt Democrat to Reagan Republican (if you will) largely unexplained. Context is not a priority here though. All viewers are really told about his predecessor Jimmy Carter is that he had the courage to make his “malaise” speech. The word “stagflation” however, is scrupulously ignored. The Iranian hostages are discussed, but apparently only to illustrate Reagan’s providential good fortune with their fortuitous release.

Jarecki interviews some Reagan insiders, but his editorial hand is always obviously. Peter Robinson has a chance to discuss Reagan’s frequently lauded talents as a communicator, but policy analysis is reserved solely for the President’s partisan critics. So what do you suppose they say happen to the rich during his tenure?

We can also see this formal balance but practical bias in the appearances of Reagan’s family. Michael Reagan is only seen playing a cheerleader role while conducting a Reagan-themed tour (just long enough for the audience to suspect he might be trading on his father’s name). Conversely, Ron Reagan is allowed long thoughtful camera time to whittle away at his father’s political legacy. It is worth noting though, Jarecki’s film directly contradicts the junior Reagan’s claim his father exhibited symptoms of Alzheimer’s while in office.

Despite the near constant criticism of Reagan, Jarecki never comes close to suggesting the iconic president ever acted out of self interest or cynical calculation. Ever during the Iran-Contra affair, the “lifeguard” metaphor is too hard for him to shake. Indeed, this is Reagan’s ultimate saving grace, or failure, depending on one’s biases. Further diminishing the film’s seriousness, the constant use of vintage 1980’s pop tunes, like “99 Luftballoons” to underscore Reagan’s nuclear policy, is rather shallow and clichéd. (Sadly, it seems Jarecki was not able to clear the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star” for a “Great Communicator” segment.) Disappointing but not surprising, Jarecki’s Reagan does a disservice to its subject and its audience. It airs tomorrow night (2/7) on HBO, following its recent Sundance premiere.

A Diva’s Story: When I Rise

Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas is not like Bizet’s Carmen or Puccini’s Madame Butterfly. It is hardly one of the evergreens companies stage year after year to satisfy their subscribers’ expectations. However, it played an enormously significant role in the life of mezzo-soprano Barbara Smith Conrad. Her frustrating experience with the Purcell opera forms the central nucleus of Mat Hames’ When I Rise (trailer here), which airs next Tuesday on most PBS stations as part of the current season of Independent Lens.

Conrad is a Texan, hailing Center Point, a small town founded by five freedmen, including her great-grandfather. In 1956, she was also part of the first racially integrated class at the University of Texas in Austin. While not exactly welcomed by everyone on campus, Conrad found a home in the school of music. She made lasting friendships and found her remarkable voice was appreciated and accepted, regardless of her race—or so it seemed. Then she was cast as Dido, which would require her to appear in romantic scenes with the white lead.

When word got out, the segregationist members of the state legislature, led by Conrad’s own representative, Democrat Joe Chapman, threatened cut the university’s funding. Despite the protests of both the Republican and Democrat student organizations, as well as the student body president, the university president obediently rolled over.

Hames briskly covers some of the highlights her career, such as playing Marian Anderson (her greatest role model) in HBO’s Eleanor and Franklin, and becoming one of the world’s foremost interpreters of spirituals. Still, he always returns to University of Texas. Conrad did indeed finish her studies at UT, but her feelings towards her alma mater were clearly always ambivalent. Yet, in Rise’s third act, Conrad returns to Texas and her university for a series of honors recognizing her contributions to the arts and seeking to redress past wrongs. Fittingly, it would be the current representative from Conrad’s former East Texas district, Republican (though not identified as such) Bryan Hughes, who took the lead in the legislature’s ceremonies.

Scrupulously nonpartisan, Rise is more interested in the possibility of redemption and forgiveness than politics (past or present), or even music. Viewers do hear several excerpts from Conrad’s recordings, but Hames favors her spirituals that inspired his title and would probably be more accessible for general audiences.

Regardless, Rise certainly reaches an emotional crescendo as Conrad comes to terms with her past. Hames’ compelling portrait of Conrad’s forceful but grounded personality is also the sort of PR outreach opera needs, given its elitist perception in the popular media. Classy and respectful, Rise is one of the highlights of the current season of Independent Lens, well worth seeing when it airs this coming Tuesday (2/8) on most PBS outlets.

Frantisek Vlacil at FSLC: Sentiment

Franstišek Vláčil outlived the Communist regime that had so bedeviled his filmmaking career, but he did not quite make it into the Twenty-First Century. However, his presence was felt on Czech screens in 2003 thanks to documentary filmmaker Tomáš Hejtmánek, who recreated his many conversations with Vláčil in Sentiment, which screens tomorrow as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Fantastic World of Franstišek Vláčil retrospective.

Like many Czechs, Vláčil apparently enjoyed an occasional adult beverage, but rum for his drink of choice instead of Becherovka. Not that it is Vláčil whom we see reflecting on cinema and his life in general. It is actor Jirí Kodet re-enacting interviews Hejtmánek conducted with the celebrated director. Though it was hardly the manner Hejtmánek originally envisioned a collaboration with the filmmaker he so admired, Vláčil’s death necessitated the unconventional approach.

Indeed, Kodet creates a real sense of Vláčil’s personality, crusty and acerbic certainly, but not bitter. Despite his well reported troubles under the Communist regime, Sentiment largely avoids the political, aside from a few unflattering references to the “Commies.”

Periodically featuring quietly evocative nature scenes excerpted from or inspired by Vláčil’s films, Sentiment is best viewed by audiences already somewhat familiar with the Czech New Wave auteur’s work. It should be one of the later films FSLC patrons see in the series rather than the first. Though structured relatively simply as a faux-but-real talking head documentary, the intimate, sepia-washed cinematography of Jaromir Kacer and Divis Marek gives Sentiment a classy look that is quite consistent with that of Vláčil’s own films.

Modest but heartfelt, Sentiment helps flesh out Vláčil, a filmmaker who ought to be more widely appreciated outside the Czech Republic. A fitting way to cap off the FSLC’s Vláčil retrospective currently underway, it screens tomorrow (2/5) and Thursday (2/10) at the Walter Reade Theater.

Waiting for Forever: What were they thinking?

If you consider a chronically delusional, compulsively irresponsible stalker to be potential boyfriend material, than perhaps you too might be a budding indie filmmaker. However, anyone remotely aware of the painful challenges mental health issues represent will be left slack-jawed by the cutesy romance of James Keach’s Waiting for Forever (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

For the last ten years or so, Will Donner has silently followed his childhood sweetheart Emma Twist across the country, supporting himself as a street juggler, while wearing pajamas and holding long, emotional conversations with his long dead parents. Any problems, so far? Donner’s love for Twist was eternally cemented when she consoled him after his parents’ untimely death. Unfortunately, he was sent away to some lucky relative shortly thereafter, but he remained obsessed with her over the years. After her low-rated sitcom was canceled, Twist returned to their quaint little hometown to re-examine her life and share some quality time with her dying father. Of course, Donner is right behind her, much to the contempt of his gainfully employed brother and the regret of his inexplicably indulgent friends.

Naturally, the manipulative melodrama follows fast and furious as grouchy Papa Twist slowly expires and the creepy Hollywood boyfriend shows up to add some menace to the film’s saccharine sweetness. It is just one face-palm moment after another, even including an attempt to frame the Donner Party of one for murder (I kid you not). Frankly, by this point, most viewers will simply want to see the PJ-sporting fool institutionalized, so he can finally get the help he so desperately needs.

Forever’s depiction of its obviously emotionally disturbed protagonist would be offensively exploitative if it were not so agonizingly earnest. It is like a Farrelly Brothers comedy played straight. Indeed, it is simply embarrassing to see accomplished actors like Blythe Danner and Richard Jenkins laboring away as Twist’s parents. Somehow, the O.C.’s Rachel Bilson more-or-less manages to preserve her dignity as Twist, but have mercy, the word “cloying” is woefully insufficient to describe Tom Sturridge’s quirky, sentimental overkill as the sad-eyed Donner.

It is hard to imagine a more profoundly misconceived film than Forever. Problematic in multiple ways, Steve Adams’ treacle-laden screenplay never rings true, particularly when tying everything up at the end in a happy little bow. Only occasionally offering some unintentional laughter, Forever opens today (2/4) in New York at the AMC Empire.

Mumblecore Mystery: Cold Weather

Picture this: a mumblecore movie with an actual plot. Sort of. It might not sound like a radical innovation, but it represents a big step forward in terms of watchability for the hipster subgenre of aimless but talky twenty to thirty-nothings slouching through life. Indeed, a rather clever little mystery confronts the slacker-protagonist of Aaron Katz’s Cold Weather (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

The defiantly under-achieving Doug has just dropped out of his forensic science program, moving in with his only-so-patient older sister Gail. He appears perfectly content working in the local ice factory, doing little else besides occasionally hanging with his co-worker Carlos, an aspiring DJ. However, when Doug’s ex-girlfriend Rachel unexpectedly shows up, that elusive thing called plot begins to percolate.

At first, everything seems cool. Despite Doug and Gail’s past relationship, the four generation-whatevers all get along pretty well. However, when Gail blows off Carlos’s gig, he becomes concerned, dragging his Sherlock Holmes-obsessed friend to her motel to investigate—and yes, from there the game’s afoot.

Frankly, Weather executes its amateur sleuth devices with surprising nimbleness. There are mystery men, lurid secrets, and even a code in need of breaking. As Doug, Cris Lankenau develops an easy, believable bantering chemistry with Trieste Kelly Dunn, who plays his big sis with verve and attitude. Lankenau also plays off the ever-so reserved Raúl Castillo quite nicely.

In addition to boasting a fair degree of humor and narrative drive, Weather also looks and sounds like a movie. Cinematographer Andrew Read gives it a coolly polished, professional look, while not slavishly emulating vintage film noir. Keegan DeWitt’s electro-percussive score helps propel the film along without clashing with Katz’s minimalist vibe. Instead of the typically stilted version of suburbia or a hopelessly unrealistic New York, Weather’s Portland setting further distinguishes it from the indie field, grounding it in an evocative dreariness. The film’s only drawback is a head-scratchingly abrupt ending that almost suggests Katz just decided to wrap production when he ran out of film.

If not a major work, Weather is certainly an amusing little film. One of the best films of the scruffy mumblecore pack (for what that’s worth), it opens tomorrow (2/4) in New York at the IFC Center.

Frantisek Vlacil at FSLC: Shadows of a Hot Summer

The mere fact that an accomplished but largely nonpolitical artist like filmmaker Franstišek Vláčil would require “rehabilitation” is fundamentally troubling. However, Vláčil was able to work his way back into the then Czechoslovakian state film industry, starting with his well received documentaries and children’s’ films (like the excellent Sirius). Given the realities of so-called “Normalization” under the Husák regime, the overtly Catholic, anti-Communist Ukrainian nationalist guerillas made convenient villains, at least on the surface level of Vláčil’s 1977 feature Shadows of a Hot Summer, which screens as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Fantastic World of Franstišek Vláčil retrospective now underway.

It is the summer of 1947, roughly six to eight months before the Communist coup. Though undeniably from peasant stock, Baram approaches kulak status. His isolated farm has always provided for his family well enough, but it unfortunately makes a perfect hiding place for the Ukrainian Bender Gang. With his wife and children held hostage, Baram must kidnap the village doctor to tend to their wounded leader. Definitely the strong taciturn type, Baram reluctantly acquiesces to their many demands to protect his family, but his young son’s unspoken rebukes are unmistakable.

Written by Jiri Krizan, a dissident who would eventually become a leading advisor to Vaclav Havel, Summer is largely thought to be anti-anti-Communist in name only, with the marauding Ukrainians serving as proxies for the Soviet Army of 1968. Yet, despite the resonance of their invasion of home and hearth, the film is strangely emotionally distant. In a way, the eerie soundtrack by longtime Vláčil collaborator Zdeněk Liška works too well, creating an unsettling vibe that emphasizes the film’s cold, brutal exterior, while keeping its quiet protagonist at arm’s length.

Though it might be difficult to draw a bead on Juraj Kukkura’s Baram, at least he has an appropriately manly presence. Frankly, Gustáv Valach is most successful at creating a fully dimensional flesh and blood character as the fundamentally decent but tired provincial doctor. As for the Benders, they are not extravagant enough to be caricatures, nor fleshed out enough to be real.

Summer is fascinating film for what it represents, both for Vláčil’s career and Czech cinema during the post-Prague Spring era. However, it needs to be appreciated within that larger context. Currently not available on DVD in America, it screens tomorrow (2/4) and next Wednesday (2/9) as the FSLC’s Vláčil retrospective continues at the Walter Reade Theater.

Delivering the Goods: American Grindhouse

It seems like every hipster filmmaker wants to make a retro-grindhouse movie these days, but the results are usually pretty lame. The truth is real deal grindhouse auteurs did not have time for posing. They had to get their shots before the cops shut them down. The subversive attitude of their oeuvre flowed organically from their dodgy working environment, thoroughly infusing the zero-budget cult films Elijah Drenner lovingly surveys in American Grindhouse (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

“Exploitation” films were independently produced movies with some grabby element to “exploit” that audiences could not otherwise find from mainstream studio fare. Though not necessarily limited to sex and violence, those were certainly the biggies. Drugs and circus freaks were also reliable hooks. Such films were typically booked into seedy pre-Giuliani-era Times Square-style theaters, often playing continuously without formal start times (hence the grind in grindhouse).

Drenner and his battery of film scholars start with the silent era, when Universal hit pay dirt with Traffic in Souls, a rather sensationalistic story of white slavery, carrying the fig leaf of a progressive reform message. It established the template many exploitation filmmakers would profitably follow for decades, including the so-called “Forty Thieves” emerging in 1930’s.

Grindhouse surveys a number of rather self-explanatory sub-genres, like the “birth of a baby” movies, the beach party movies, faux nudist documentaries, the “nudie cuties,” the “roughies,” women-in-prison films, Nazi-exploitation (exemplified with class and distinction by Ilsa the She-Wolf of the SS), and the ageless blaxploitation picture. Amongst his many talking heads, Drenner notably scored sit-down interview time with Fred Williamson, of Black Caesar and Hell Up in Harlem fame, who looks and sounds as cool as ever.

While Grindhouse focuses squarely on the filmmakers, it is not a cheap tease. Indeed, many of the voluminous clips from the seminal classics under discussion are real eye-poppers. Still, Drenner maintains the right balance of (half)-serious cultural history and the crowd pleasing naughty bits.

Well-stocked with wild stories and vintage scenes of pure lunacy, Grindhouse is a whole lot of fun, sort of like an old school Hollywood Boulevard version of That’s Entertainment. Like the “birth of a baby” films it documents, Grindhouse is in fact educational, but its subject matter is definitely mature. Yet ultimately, it is a winning tribute to genuinely independent filmmakers, marginalized and even demonized though they might have been. Heartily recommended to those who already have a good idea what they will be getting into, Grindhouse opens this Friday (2/4) in New York at the Cinema Village.

Frantisek Vlacil at FSLC: Sirius

The story of a boy and his dog is a classic motif of children’s films. However, Franstišek Vláčil transformed the well established convention into something sadly poetic, perfectly befitting the tenor of his time. As was the case with many artists, the post-Soviet Invasion years were not kind to Vláčil’s career, but by the mid 1970’s, he was eventually allowed to take the reins of a smattering of short documentaries and films for young audiences. Though ostensibly one such children’s film, the adult world tragically intrudes in Sirius, Vláčil’s elegiac WWII-era coming of age film, which screens this Saturday afternoon as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Fantastic World of Franstišek Vláčil retrospective now underway at the Walter Reade Theater.

Sirius (or "Sir" as he is affectionately called) is not quite Lassie, but his ability to communicate and follow the instructions of his master is impressive none-the-less. Fascinated by the night sky, the director’s young namesake named the loyal canine after the Dog Star, the brightest star visible from Earth with the naked eye. Franstišek’s days appear to be filled with child-like wonder, as he and Sir commune with the nature. It seems their only cause for concern is the Bo Radley-esque forest-keeper who makes no secret of his ill will for the title animal. All that changes when a Nazi troop train blows up right before his eyes. Suddenly, the Germans are keenly aware of Franstišek’s station agent father as well as his spirited dog.

Though comparatively brief at a mere fifty minutes, Vláčil still takes his time establishing the rapport between boy and dog. Indeed, most of the film has a pastoral feel, though a sense of foreboding looms over the film. Clearly, there was a very competent dog trainer working behind the scenes, but Michal Vavrusa is also surprisingly understated and engaging as Franstišek.

Sirius could be considered an Old Yeller from behind the Iron Curtain. Yet, Vláčil slyly employs astronomical motifs to add a metaphysical-allegorical dimension unlike anything in Disney films. Though it burns brightly, we are told Sirius the star is due to temporarily disappear from the horizon. Likewise, the National Socialist occupiers may appear all powerful, but they too shall pass (as their Communist successors did as well).

Beautiful in its simplicity and directness, Sirus is a rewarding film for both smart kids and relatively smart adults. Not available on DVD here in America, it is highly recommended for all ages when it screens this Saturday (2/5) as part of the Vláčil series at the Walter Reade Theater.

New Russian Filmmakers, Post-Sundance: Inadequate People

Perhaps galloping neuroses can be a sign of progress. They are an impossible luxury during times of crisis and privation. Indeed, one self-promoting analyst does a booming business catering to the neighbors and colleagues of a depressed Muscovite transplant in writer-director-composer-editor Roman Karimov’s Inadequate People (trailer here), which screens tomorrow in New York as part of CEC ArtsLink’s special post-Sundance celebration of New Russian Filmmakers.

Vitaliy is still wracked with guilt over a tragedy from his recent past, but he is trying to pull his life back together with the help of a new job in a different city, a confident shrink, and his self-help book. The depressed English translator wants to be boring, but his sexually aggressive boss Marina could be a problem. So could Christina, the sarcastic seventeen year-old Lolita living next door. At least, she has some substance, if not ambition. For a while, everything is rather neighborly, with Christina and her overworked mother joining Vitaliy on his analyst’s patient roster. Yet, as feelings develop between Christina and her thirty-nothing English tutor, it starts to raise a few eyebrows, particularly with her frazzled mother.

Though Inadequate treads on some delicate terrain, Karimov finds quite a few neurotic laughs in the process. (At seventeen, Christina is technically legal in Russia, and New York, though that hardly dispels the potential icky factor.) Still, Karimov navigates the perilous straits quite deftly, teasing their confused feelings out of some sharp, frequently biting dialogue.

Indeed, Inadequate works surprisingly well thanks to the convincing chemistry that develops between Ilya Lyubimov and Ingrid Olerinskaya as the mismatched pair. As Vitaliy, the former also shows an understated flair for the Sex in the City meets The Office style of humor involving his scary boss and petty coworkers. While the slightly dubious shrink is a rom-com staple, Yevgeni Tsyganov still has some clever moments as Vitaliy’s want-to-be self-help guru. The attractiveness of Inadequate’s cast, particularly Olerinskaya and Yuliya Takshina as Marina, hardly hurts its credibility either.

Smartly written, Karimov’s script is honest and self-aware enough to cut through a lot of bunk. It is a very good relationship film that easily travels between cultures. A bit of a change of pace from the Russian films often imported onto American screens (Chekhovian period pieces, grungy post-Soviet crime dramas, and the like) Inadequate is definitely recommended when it screens (for a mere $5 suggested donation) at the Tribeca Cinemas tomorrow night (2/2).

Frantisek Vlacil at FSLC: The White Dove

Like many contemporary Iranian filmmakers, Franstišek Vláčil often focused on ostensibly apolitical subjects, like children and animals. Yet, as a filmmaker in the vanguard of the Czech New Wave, his work was still considered suspect by the Communist power structure. Though his career would be put on hold for six years following the 1968 Soviet invasion, the international acclaim greeting his 1960 feature film debut The White Dove promised great things at the time for the filmmaker, making it the perfect selection to launch Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Fantastic World of Franstišek Vláčil retrospective tomorrow.

A group of doves is released in Belgium. On a small Baltic island, their handlers eagerly anticipate their return. However, young Susan’s bird has a late start due to a twinge of the wing. While detouring through Prague, the wheelchair-bound Miša’s pellet gun nearly proves fatal. Shamed by Martin, the artist in the next door apartment, he nurses the bird back to health, while Susan faithfully keeps watching the skies.

Dove is a deceptively simple story, involving several themes Vláčil would return to in later films, such as the bond between children and animals. Reportedly reluctant to overwhelm his youthful cast with extensive lines to memorize, Vláčil makes his points visually rather than verbally. Stark but sensitive, nearly every artful black-and-white frame lensed by cinematographer Jan Čuřík is suitable for framing. Indeed, it is arresting film to behold, effectively contrasting the claustrophobic, urbanized Prague with the idyllic sun and sea of Susan’s Baltic isle. Adding further texture, composer Zdenek Liska’s spritely jazz interludes and more suggestive chamber music nicely underscore and reinforce the power of the film’s speechless moments.

Vláčil elicits some natural yet restrained performances from Karel Smyczek and Katerina Irmanovová, as the dove’s two youthful caretakers. He also captures the artistic impulse better in Dove than nearly any other film, raptly observing as Martin creates a series of works inspired by Miša and the injured dove (which are credited to Czech artists Theodor Pištěk and Jan Kablasa). At times, Dove seems to suggest deeper allegorical significance, but Vláčil judiciously keeps it all rather obscure—though perhaps not obscure enough, in retrospect. (Whenever you have a cat named Satan hunting a peaceful white dove, it could be rather awkward explaining to the occupying commissar what each represents.)

Many have likened Vláčil’s films to poetry. Indeed, like a good poem (at least by Poe’s standards) Dove is relatively short at seventy-five minutes. Though it memorably evokes a child’s perspective, it is unquestionably high art cinema, better suited to the discerning connoisseur. A major work from a filmmaker under-exposed on the American film scene during his own lifetime, Dove kicks-off the FSLC’s welcome reappraisal of Vláčil’s films this Wednesday (2/2) at the Walter Reade Theater.

Sundance ’11: Incendies

Religious extremism is a handy prism through which to view Mid East conflicts. However, it ignores one a critical contributing cause of ever escalating violence, at least according to the recent screen adaptation of Lebanese-Canadian Wajdi Mouawad’s stage play. While religious resentments are often a primary motivation, nothing trumps human nature and the downright Biblical desire for revenge. It is that eye-for-an-eye cycle a Middle Eastern immigrant hopes to break with her last will and testament in Denis Villeneuve’s Academy Award nominated Incendies (trailer here), which screened during the recently wrapped 2011 Sundance Film Festival.

Nawal Marwan, beloved employee of attorney and notary-public Jean Lebel, had secrets her grown son and daughter never suspected. An immigrant from an unnamed Middle Eastern country bearing a strong resemblance to Lebanon (particularly given its open warfare between Christian and Muslim militias), Jeanne and Simon assumed their father died during the civil war. Much to their surprise, at the reading of Marwan’s will, Lebel produces two letters handwritten by their late mother. One they are to deliver to their father, the other to their heretofore unknown brother.

At first, Simon refuses to play his mother’s game, leaving Jeanne to wrestle with their family intrigue alone. However, as she learns the extent of her mother’s past, including involvement with a shadowy Muslim warlord and a long stint in a notorious Christian militia prison, Simon reluctantly joins her, with the faithful Lebel in tow.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Incendies is the slipperiness of various characters’ loyalties. Though raised a Christian, Nawal Marwan throws her lot in with the Muslim militia after witnessing a Christian atrocity. Likewise, a critical mystery man changes sides at least twice, seemingly just to facilitate various plot turns.

Indeed, Incendies has a monster of a twist that viewers probably will not recognize until Villeneuve commences the film’s big reveal. It depends on a very tight timeline though, which just barely holds up to post-screening scrutiny. Frankly, given the importance of dates, Mélissa Désormeaux Poulin and Maxim Gaudette, though otherwise convincing in the roles, look at five or ten years too old as the grown Marwan children. Yet Villeneuve pulls it off through sheer cinematic power.

While Incendies might sound like typically didactic Mid East agitprop, it really is more about the personal than the political. In fact, neither Israel nor America are ever mentioned at all. Instead, it is about the grubby, up-close-and-personal hatreds and resentments that define such skirmishes. At one point, the Marwans are advised to seek out a former militia leader for information, because warlords have long memories. Point taken.

If not exactly subtle filmmaking, Incendies delivers some darn visceral drama. Oddly, it also serves as a tribute to the noble calling of notaries through Rémy Girard’s richly realized supporting turn as Lebel. A suitably sweeping package, cinematographer André Turpin adeptly captures the rough beauty of the landscape, while the euro-pop influenced sound track sounds somewhat out-of-place, but is strangely evocative nonetheless. A bold, messy, and totally engrossing film, Canada’s Incendies is one of the better nominees for the best foreign language Oscar and a worthy selection of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Finnish No Man’s Land: Into Eternity

Developing reactors that recycle nuclear waste is one of the research areas Bjorn Lomborg recommends to tackle global warming and save the planet. Finland is not waiting for anything so pie-in-the-sky. They are taking a state-of-the-art approach to one of the oldest strategies for making inconvenient things disappear. Essentially they are burying their nuclear waste in their backyard, about over 1,700 feet deep, in a stainless steel temple known as Onkalo. If all goes according to plan, humanity will never set foot in Onkalo again once it becomes operational, making Danish filmmaker Michael Madsen’s tour of the facility a rather eerie experience in his meditative documentary Into Eternity (trailer here), which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Onkalo is meant to last 100,000 years. Considering the Iron Age was only just commencing in Europe approximately 3,200 years ago, this is constitutes a really long time. Within that span, civilizations could rise and fall several times over and written communication may well morph into something completely unrecognizable. Such matters directly concern those responsible for designing Onkalo’s “danger: keep out” signs.

Actually, some of Eternity’s speculative issues expressed by Onkalo’s ethical advisory team seem slightly overwrought. Any people enterprising enough to burrow that deep into the Earth ought to be able to puzzle out the voluminous warnings in multiple languages. However, what really works in the film is its man-standing-on-the-dark-side-of-the-moon vibe. Like an enormous secret installation straight off the page of a comic book, rendered in ultra-modern Ikea style, there is a genuine otherworldliness to Onkalo, perfectly captured by Heikki Färm’s cold, glossy cinematography and nicely reinforced by the ambient science fiction soundfield designed by Nicolai Linck and Øivinde Weingaarde.

Produced with dispassionate coolness by a Danish filmmaker documenting a Finnish undertaking, Eternity might be the quintessential Scandinavian documentary. While the “arrogance of man” message is somewhat overstated, it takes viewers to someplace they have truly never been before, and its creators ardently hope, will never go again once they seal it up. An intriguing film (though a bit brief at seventy five minutes), Eternity opens this Wednesday (2/2) in New York at Film Forum.

New Russian Shorts, Post-Sundance

New Yorkers are paranoid about bedbugs, but evidently Russians have to worry about far more dangerous mutations. If you choose to believe television news reports, they are as big as dogs and attack people right on the street. Several average Russians face extreme situations (including those mutant parasites) in three short films from emerging Russian filmmakers visiting New York, by way of Park City, for a special New Russian Shorts screening this Tuesday in Tribeca, sponsored by CEC ArtsLink.

In Elena Bychkova’s Express Course in Buddhism, there is a whole lot of worldliness happening on a train full of randy demobilized soldiers, but Stas is beyond on that. He has just shaved his head in anticipation of a life dedicated to Zen Buddhist studies. However, the teacher who visits him during his meditations has an important piece of advice: do not ignore the cute girl trying to talk to him. What starts as a Kung Fu like device, takes a droll Woody Allen turn before Bychkova’s smart film ends on a rather ironic note. Deftly balancing contradicting tones, Express is quite an accomplished work, especially for a graduate film, yet it is the clever supporting turn form the Buddhist teacher that really gives the film its unique character.

Two young lovers look like they might have walked out of a Chekhov story, but instead of an anticipated eclipse, they are in for a sort of mad Walpurgis Night in Anton Koskov’s Abyss. Though there are hints of the supernatural, the real horror is supplied by human nature, which Abyss suggests will revert to savagery when given the opportunity. Though not likely to win Koskov a feminist filmmaker award any time soon, it is a handsomely rendered film. Dmitrij Vladimirov’s lush sunsets and eerily flickering fires create an atmosphere of malevolent seduction perfect for the film’s paganism.

Perhaps the best film of a strong program, Sergey Groznov’s We Were Watching TV . . . examines how ordinary Russians process news reports of the promised, yet still unseen, mutant bedbugs as they simultaneously work through their own problematic relationships. On one level, it offers a subversive commentary on the tabloid media, while portraying three couples with very different but believably down-to-earth problems. In particular, Evgeniy Stichkin and Elvira Bolgova establish a good bickering, bantering rhythm as the final couple, Misha and Anna.

Though very different in terms of mood, all three films share a sense of hyper-realism, approaching genre cinema, yet never quite crossing the threshold. Polished productions, all three are worth checking out when they screen this Tuesday (2/1) at the Tribeca Cinemas, under the auspices of CEC ArtsLink, the City’s leading programmer of Russian cultural programs.

Sundance ’11: Position Among the Stars

The most populous Muslim nation is not in the Middle East, it is Indonesia. A Christian like Rumidjah Shamshudin can often find herself on the outside looking in, even within her own family. Still, she remains a strong matriarchal figure in Leonard Retel Helmrich’s Position Among the Stars (trailer here), his third documentary chronicling the Shamshudin family, which won the Special Grand Jury Award at the recently wrapped 2011 Sundance Film Festival, making Helmrich the first two-time Sundance and IDFA award winner.

As a documentarian, Helmrich comes out of the Wiseman observational school rather than the Moore-Spurlock self-aggrandizing tradition. He gives us what in this case could be termed a roach-on-the-wall view of the Shamshudin family’s daily struggles in the booming but not necessarily progressive majority-Muslim nation. The matriarch has hopes for something better—not for herself, but for her granddaughter Tari who will soon graduate from high school. She is determined to enroll Tari in college, but her son Bakti (Tari’s guardian) only sees the considerable cost involved. In fact, Rumidjah is not too pleased with her under-achieving son for a number of reasons, including his mistreatment of his wife Sri, the only reliable breadwinner in the family.

Position is a film that takes its time, letting its dramas evolve naturally while viewers patiently watch. Though it can be a bit slow at times, Helmrich captures some truly eye-opening scenes, like the aftermath of the municipal neighborhood roach spraying, which you really have to see to believe.

In a way, the Shamshudins are a microcosm of Indonesia, requiring a scorecard to track their religious affiliations. In fact, Rumidjah, A Christian convert, seems to be the only one in the family that takes faith seriously. By contrast, Muslim conversion seems like a matter of convenience for some. Still, Muslim son Dwi appears genuinely angry when she takes his son Bagus to Catholic mass.

Though billed as the third (and therefore concluding) installment of Helmrich’s trilogy, it is difficult to predict whether the future will favor the Shamshudins. Frankly, life is just too messy to end on a neatly pat note, especially in Jakarta. Instead of closure, Helmrich gives viewers a visceral sense of life in Jakarta’s slums and fair taste of the countryside as well. He has an eye for weirdly telling interludes that help pull viewers through Position's more workaday scenes. It is an intriguing and ultimately ambiguous look at the slum-level reality for a nation still in flux that continued to rack up festival acclaim at this year’s Sundance.

Sundance ’11: Elite Squad 2

Watch out for those left wing academics. They will steal your wife and poison your son against you. At least that is what happened to Colonel Nascimento, the leader of Rio’s SWAT team equivalent, the Special Police Operation Battalion, or BOPE in the Portuguese acronym. However, Nascimento still finds himself working with his nemesis to bring down a crypto-fascist criminal empire run by crooked cops and politicians in José Padilha’s Elite Squad 2: The Enemy Within (trailer here), which screened during the 2011 Sundance Film Festival.

Diogo Fraga is the Brazilian Al Sharpton. Whenever the inmates riot (which is often), they send for him to act as a “mediator.” However, when the latest standoff gets tense, Fraga starts to look like a legit hostage. When Nascimento’s protgege Matias sees his shot, he takes his shot, as per his training. Unfortunately, the resulting blood splatter all over Fraga’s peace t-shirt is too rich not to exploit in the media, even if was meant to save his behind. As the officer in charge, Nascimento bears the brunt of Fraga’s protests, but the fearful public is completely behind him. Left with only one recourse, the politicians kick him upstairs to some sort of homeland security position.

Suddenly, Nascimento is setting criminal justice policy on a state level. He gives BOPE the resources they always needed and turns them loose on the cartels. Actually, it works too well, leaving a vacuum to be filled by “The System,” a ruthless syndicate run by crooked cops and hypocritical “law & order” politicians.

Evidently, Padilha was stung by the criticism of Elite 1 as an endorsement shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later vigilantism, considering how far he swings the pendulum over in Elite 2. Now it is depose first and ask follow-up questions later in committee hearings.

At least Wagner Moura is still the ever-popular Nascimento, who looks like a non-descript everyman, but is a seriously bad hard-nose. His no nonsense presence helps redeem Elite 2 from its constant attempts at redemption through sociopolitical relevancy. In a standout supporting turn, André Ramiro brings a scary intensity to the tightly wound Matias. Brazilian music lovers should also keep an eye out for superstar vocalist Seu Jorge, appearing early in the film as powerful drug kingpin.

There are some tightly executed action sequences in Elite 2, but it is ultimately undone by its didactic political subplots. After all, one doubts many favela residents would identify over-zealous policing as the greatest problem they face. While not without its moments, Elite 2 strays too far from its roots, which ironically, probably makes it more attractive to American distributors, following its high profile screenings in the Spotlight section of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.