Rooftop Films ’10: Disco and Atomic War

Soviet television was so stilted and corny, even the Finns made fun of it. The Estonians saw them do it too, because they secretly watched the programs broadcasted by their Scandinavian neighbors. They also enjoyed quite a few American exports on Finnish television, much to the alarm of the Communist Party. Though they might seem cheesy to us now, Jaak Kilmi and Kiur Aarma explain how programs like Dallas and Knight Rider helped undermine the Soviet empire in their droll documentary Disco and Atomic War (trailer here), a recent selection of the Los Angeles Film Festival which has its New York premiere this Saturday as part of Rooftop Films current season.

For Estonians of the filmmakers’ generation, Finnish TV was significant beyond mere entertainment. Kilmi recalls posting letters every week to his cousin in the south with the Ewing family’s latest scandals. Young Joosep’s early years revolved around the Finnish convertors he helped his father sell, learning the fundamentals of the black market at an early age. Indeed, nearly every Estonian seems to have been involved in some small act of rebellion, for the sake of their Finnish TV.

Of course, the Soviets were not thrilled with the Finish broadcasters and they let them know it. In fact, Disco is an eye-opening reminder of the extent to which Finland fell within what the Soviets considered their sphere of influence. To their credit, Finnish TV stuck to their guns, reporting the truth of the 1968 Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, leading to student protests on the streets of Helsinki. It also meant that Estonians knew the truth as well.

As important as the shocking images from Prague were, Kilmi and Aarma suggest the entertainment programming had a greater long term effect winning Estonian hearts and minds. It turns out Estonians dug Knight Rider just as much as the Germans. Disco dancing Finns and Star Wars the movie were also big hits (of course, this was before Lucas started mucking it up with new CGI).

However, the greatest triumph of what the film’s experts dub “soft power” might have been a fateful late night screening of Just Jaeckin’s Emmanuelle, a breakout soft-core porn film starring Sylvia Krystel that inspired dozens of sequels (which I’m sure everyone reading this is completely unfamiliar with). Officially, nobody was watching in Estonia either, but let’s just say there were a lot of tired people at work the next day.

Life under the repressive Communist system was certainly serious business, but Kilmi and Aarma have crafted some of the wittiest and breeziest cultural history viewers are likely to see on film for quite some time. They have a shrewd eye for visuals that playful tweak the dour Communists and convincingly evoke the spirit of the times with dramatic recreations of episodes from their childhoods. Ardo Ran Varres’ groovy soundtrack, heavily employing vibes and drum breaks, also helps maintain a lighthearted spirit.

As entertaining as Disco is, on a per-frame basis, it has to be the most informative documentary of the year. In its way, it is a testament to the innovative spirit of the Estonian people, who consistently found new ways to subvert Soviet censorship. It also demonstrates there is no such thing as a closed system for information, even under in an oppressive state like the USSR. Enthusiastically recommended, Rooftop Films screens Disco this Saturday (7/31) at the Old American Can Factory in Brooklyn.

Rooftop Films ’10: Daisies

“The world’s gone bad” two manic sisters tell us. It would get much worse two years later when the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia put an abrupt end to the period of political liberalization known as Prague Spring. Along with the tanks they also brought along many unamused censors who effectively ended the Czech New Wave of avant-garde filmmaking. Despite earning laurels on the international festival circuit, many significant Czech films were banned for decades, including Vera Chytilová’s already verboten Daisies, eventually acclaimed as a classic from the movement’s only female director. Now safely liberated from the vaults, Daisies has a very public screening this Wednesday as part of Rooftop Films 2010 summer season.

Since the world has gone bad, Marie I and Marie II decide they might as well go bad with it. For the duo, this seems to involve terrorizing prospective sugar daddies and consuming vast quantities of food in the most disruptive manner possible. In short, they are the dread terrors of Prague’s fine dining establishments. Politically though, they couldn’t give a toss.

In addition to being the only woman director of the Czech New Wave, Chytilová was arguably the most experimental as well. Freely toying with tinted filters, optical effects, and collages, epileptics should be warned on the way into Daisies. Yet, it should be a pretty groovy viewing experience for most of the Rooftop audience.

However, as a discrete cinematic statement, Daisies is more aptly described with words like “historic” and “significant” rather than “classic” and “enduring.” It is most definitely a product of its psychedelic time. Forty-some years later, the film’s provocations have lost some novelty, but the annoying Maries have not appreciated in charm.

Still, it is easy to see why the Communist apparatchiks pulled Daisies from theaters and black-listed Chytilová. It is a world away from Soviet Realism, finding heroism in hedonism. Indeed, the anarchy loosed on screen was simply bad for business in a captive nation, especially post-1968.

Today, post-post-1968, Daisies is often interpreted in feminist terms, sometimes dubbed a New Wave forerunner to Thelma & Louise. While there may well be some validity to such approaches, it seems like Chytilová was primarily concerned with testing boundaries—aesthetic rather than social or political. Still trippy after all these years, Daisies is not cinematic perfection but it is a fascinating time capsule. It screens for free courtesy of Rooftop Films this Wednesday (7/28) at the Socrates Sculpture Park in Long Island City.

Rooftop Films ’10: The Ape

When movie protagonists constantly have their Bluetooth affixed to their ear, it is always a strong indication they are bad news. Being a driving instructor should probably count as the second strike against Krister. Waking up covered in someone else’s blood pretty much seals our of impression of the disturbed Swede, but director Jesper Ganslandt offers plenty more disturbing evidence in The Ape (trailer here), which screens this Friday at Brooklyn Tech as part of Rooftop Film’s summer season.

Krister is having a bad day. After waking up in the bathroom smeared in blood, he bikes over to the garage to pick-up his car. Late for his first appointment, he bickers with his co-workers and inappropriately yells at a student. Then he takes in a quick game of tennis. Something is not right here. Though Ganslandt never explicitly spells it out, it becomes increasingly obvious as the film follows Krister on his erratic path.

It is hard to discuss The Ape without giving too much away, though most viewers should have a bead on what is going on by the halfway point, at least. It is an icy cold film (even by Scandinavian standards) that never makes concessions to the audience. Ganslandt refuses delve into Krister’s psyche, only showing his surface reserve. As a result, he never invites sympathy or understanding for what we surmise he has done, presenting it all rather matter-of-factly.

As Krister, Olle Sarri is in every scene, but Ganslandt often shows obliquely him from odd angles, again deliberately discouraging attempts to bond with the character. Still, we see enough of Sarri to be chilled by his intensity. Yes, his character could be considered the titular ape, but that title also seems to refer to the film’s overwritten final exchange. It might be Ganslandt’s only misstep of the film, though it is certainly possible it plays better in Swedish.

Grimly realistic and tightly edited by the director, The Ape is an unsettlingly effective portrait of the banality of evil. However, the subtle ways Gansladt reveals his horrors might not be best suited for outdoor presentations. Regardless, that is how it will have its New York premiere Friday night (7/23). Tickets are available on Rooftop Film’s website, but if you saw Winnebago Man in theaters, bring your stub and get into any remaining Rooftop screening this summer for free.

Rooftop Films ’10: Sweet Mud

Someone once said something about a village. Dvir would disagree. He witnessed first-hand the pernicious influence of his Kibbutz’s petty social pressures on his mother’s already fragile psyche in Sweet Mud (trailer here), director Dror Shaul’s pointed assessment of the Kibbutz system, which screens for free this coming Sunday night as part of Rooftop Films’ summer 2010 season.

Prior to the 1980’s, child-rearing was a communal responsibility in Kibbutz communities, an arrangement Mud describes as indeed socialistic in its opening titles. Dvir would clearly prefer a more traditional family unit. He has a loving relationship with his widowed mother Miri, but is not able to give her the time and support she needs. Hope seems to be arriving from Switzerland when her lover-by-correspondence arrives for a visit. Stephan turns out to be a gentile much older than she, but he was the former Swiss judo champ, so at least he has that going for him.

Much to his surprise, not only does Dvir like Stephan, he even starts envisioning a future for them as a family. However, his hopes are crushed by an unfortunate set of events involving Avram, the Kibbutz’s cretinous bully. Indeed, with his older brother leaving for military service and his mother’s always tenuous mental health further deteriorating, Dvir finds the utopian community a cold, heartless environment.

Rare among Israeli films, Mud could be interpreted as a critique of Israeli society (or at least the pre-1980’s Kibbutz) from the right. Shaul definitely presents a system that rewards the worst among them, including Dvir’s severely judgmental grandmother, while sacrificing its most sensitive members and undermining family relationships.

Though Mud is often ideologically provocative, it still offers traditional coming-of-age story elements. In fact, some of the films strongest scenes involve Dvir and his first sort-of girlfriend Maya. Yet, it is the caustic depiction of the Kibbutz’s closed social circle, in which the annual distribution list for Dvir’s Grandmother’s preserves signals who is in or out of favor, truly defines the film.

Shaul handles the dramatic material with great sensitivity, but Tomer Steinhof does not prove himself to be a particularly expressive young actor as Dvir. Fortunately, he is surrounded by a talented supporting cast, especially including Henri Garcin as the sophisticated and humane Stephan. Nicely produced, Avishai Avivi design details all look perfectly period appropriate and cinematographer Sebastian Edschmid’s wide angle shots of the Kibbutz’s lush green fields should translate well to Rooftop’s outdoor screen.

An intriguing depiction of the downside of communal idealism, Mud is a somewhat daring programming choice for Rooftop Films and their co-sponsoring presenter, the Consulate General of Israel in New York. A bit uneven, but definitely worth seeing (particularly for free), it screens on the pier in Kip’s Bay this coming Sunday (6/20).