Motherland, from MPI

It is the ultimate paternalistic regime. Technically, in this case, the revolutionary ideology of Amma Kane produced distinctly maternalistic characteristics. She reconceived society and human nature, making the state solely responsible for child-rearing—and it jealously guards its new role with an iron fist (on the cradle). Supposedly, everyone is now free and equal, having been spared the burden parenthood, but a good deal of humanity is lost in the process. Much to her surprise, a “score-keeper” finds her maternalistic instincts reawakening, when she re-discovers the daughter she was never allowed to know in Evan Matthews’ Motherland, an MPI-supported film, which releases today in theaters and on-demand.

Nobody even pretends Cora and her colleagues at Women’s Center #8 are educators. Instead, they are talliers of the center’s system of social credit and indoctrinators of the ideology espoused by [Big Handmaid] Kane. Cora always unquestioningly accepted the official orthodoxy and rigidly enforced the rules, until she recognizes the birthmark on young Zinnia’s forehead.

At that point, all the resentment and bitterness she was forced to hide when her baby was whisked away from her, immediately after birth, come welling back up. Initially, Cora merely watches over Zinnia in secret. However, she becomes alarmed when her unknowing daughter volunteers for a pilot program to reverse the declining birthrate. Yes, much to the regime’s surprise, people have had alarmingly fewer babies, even though they would have no costs or obligations with respect to their offspring.

Zinnia agrees to the new government scheme, because she knows it will lead to a better work assignment. However, Cora wants to spare her from the pain she knows will inevitably follow the cruel separation of mother and newborn. Unfortunately, Cora does not yet fully understand how ruthlessly the regime enforces its brave new world order.

Clearly, Motherland was conceived as a rebuttal to The Handmaid’s Tale. Indeed, the propaganda paintings of Kane all bear a distinct resemblance to the wardrobe of Atwood series. However, Nicole Swinford’s screenplay does so quite cleverly—and often surprisingly subtly. While it presents an alternate present day, the technology appears stuck in the late 1970s or early 1980s (at best). While the regime-friendly media constantly trumpets exceeded quotas and increased ration allotments, it also regularly announces new austerity measures—implemented for virtue’s sake, of course. The Soviet-Socialist echoes are unmistakable.

Indeed, Matthews and Swinford skillfully hint at sinister enforcement apparatus lurking just below the surface (and beyond Cora’s sight). Frankly, the Kane-sian world never looks like an overly-stylized Orwellian police state. Instead, the feels like it is confined to a crummy old government building, which is ever so apt.

Character-actress Holland Taylor (from Bossom Buddies and Romancing the Stone) also perfectly suits this boldly dystopian world, delivering a career-crowning performance as Toni, the Machiavellian director of the women’s center. She has the terrifying zeal of a true believer, yet there is a hint of something—dare we say “motherly”—about the interest she takes in Cora.

Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game

Playing pinball is sort of like the video game experience, except the ball and flippers are actually real. The game seems cool in a retro way now, but it was some of the most fun you could have for a quarter in the early1970s. Unfortunately, it was still banned in New York City, thanks to the Puritanism of the Progressive reform movement. Inexperienced GQ journalist Roger Sharpe played a major role in legalizing the game. Sharpe’s campaign for pinball respectability is quite charmingly dramatized in Austin & Meredith Bragg’s Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game, an MPI-supported film, which releases today on VOD and in select theaters.

As a divorced twenty-five-year-old with hardly a quarter to his name, Sharpe came to the City with vague dreams and limited prospects. However, when he finally found a pinball machine, in an adult bookstore, the college pinball wizard started to get his groove back. Then the store was raided—for the pinball machines, not the porn.

By this time, Sharpe had secured a junior writing position at GQ. He also started dating Ellen, a very pretty but somewhat older single-mother working in the same office building. First, Sharpe parlays his pinball outrage into his first major GQ piece. After that, he is able to secure a book deal for his illustrated pinball history. In the process, he interviews all the founding fathers of the much-maligned pinball industry. As a result, he starts to make a name for himself as a pinball expert. Soon, the trade industry group covering pinball approaches Sharpe to testify on behalf of the game in front of the New York City Council, but Sharpe is leery of potential negative attention.

Given the title, it is probably a safe bet that Sharpe “saves the game,” or at least contributes to the repeal of New York’s ban. However, the Braggs still make the drama surprisingly pacey and entertqainingly grabby. Their use of the older, third-wall-breaking Sharpe to offer sly commentary on the unfolding action works much better than in previous films. Thanks to Dennis Boutsikaris’s portrayal of the somewhat more mature and graying Sharpe (who was onboard with the film, as an executive producer), all the exposition is weirdly fun and amusing. Frankly, we could listen to an entire multi-part documentary, featuring Boutsikaris adopting Sharpe voice, to talk about pinball history.

Yet, throughout the film, the Braggs give equal weight and significance to Sharpe’s relationship with Ellen and her son, Seth. As Sharpe, Boutsikaris explicitly says there are things that are more important than pinball, in almost exactly those terms. That means the younger Sharpe has more to do once he “saves the game,” which is a refreshing break from the typical climatic testimony cliché.

As Roger and Ellen, Mike Faist and Crystal Reed (also very good in Swamp Thing) have insanely appealing chemistry, right from the start. Their relationship necessarily has its ups and downs (otherwise this would be a pretty dull film), but viewers immediately start rooting for them. It is also worth noting the work ethic and values espoused by Ellen, who at one point explains how she grinds away as a secretary to provide for her son, in order to avoid resorting to welfare. That is really quite something to hear in a film.

Faist and Reed are terrific handling the grounded romantic comedy. Bryan Batt and Mike Doyle also deliver a lot of snarky laughs as Harry Coulianos and Jack Haber, the now legendary art director and editor of GQ. Among other things, Pinball nicely recreates the groovy milieu of 1970s magazine publishing.

Little Brother: Dystopian Cyber-Punk Dedicated to Panahi

Is there a right to hack enshrined somewhere in the Second Amendment? One Nobel Prize nominee believes it should be, as a matter of self-defense in the digital age. Only the free flow of information can undermine a dictator’s sinister plausible deniability. When it comes to exposing the truth, she will walk the walk as well as talk the talk in Cyrus Saidi & Gautam Pinto’s Little Brother (trailer here), a Moving Picture Institute (MPI) supported film, which has recently been released on iTunes.

The country in question is not specifically identified as Iran, but its dictator bears a passing resemblance to Ahmadinejad and the film is dedicated to dissident Iranian filmmaker Jafar Panahi (a classy touch), so you do the math. In a sense, Little Brother is like a strictly serious forerunner of The Interview, in which Jane Vidal, an expatriate activist for freedom in all spheres of life, announces her attention to return to her homeland to challenge the dictator to a debate. This will not be Lincoln-Douglas or even Buckley vs. the statist Vidal. Instead, the dictator will do what dictators do, but Jane Vidal expects no less.

Little Brother does not let the creeping American leviathan state off the hook either. In fact, she will call out its dubious surveillance policies during the same extended interview in which she announces her challenge to the dictator. Although the film is not based on Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother, it shares a thematic kinship. However, one gets a sense Saidi and Pinto are far more outraged by Iran’s restrictions on freedom of thought and expression than the American Patriot Act, which means they have a sense of perspective.

They also have a really good cast. Natalie Brown handles some pretty heavy dialogue in Vidal’s interview segment, without sounding like a Randian superhero, but is even more compelling in the grimly inevitable third act. The ever-reliable Stephen McHattie and his radio voice are also perfectly suited to the subtly hostile television interviewer. However, Saidi & Pinto’s real ace in the hole is Nevad Negahban. As he did when playing the cruel husband in The Stoning of Soraya M., Negahban portrays the dictator with a cunning fierceness that is scary because it is scrupulously believable and never cartoonishly over-the-top.

Perfect for Rand Paul voters, Little Brother is a provocative film that cuts across the political spectrum. Fans of dystopian science fiction will also appreciate its intense performances and the polished cyber-punky look crafted by cinematographer Rion Gonzales and the production design team. Recommended for discerning genre and short film viewers, the MPI-supported Little Brother is now available on iTunes.