Tribeca ’16: Fear (short)

When a totalitarian state uses violence, intimidation, and humiliation to rule over its people, it is hardly surprising when clinical depression develops as a by-product. Yet, we rarely address the lingering emotional issues for those who live through traumatic oppression, like the kind wrought by Mao and Stalin. For victims, this often layers on additional levels of stigma. Dr. Zenglo Chen would know only too well. He survived the Cultural Revolution, but the atrocities and privations he endured continued to torment him over the subsequent decades. Dawn Dreyer & Andrea Love chronicle his healing process in the animated documentary short Fear (trailer here), which screened at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

At the age of four, Dr. Chen’s parents were persecuted and eventually condemned to re-education camps, leaving the young boy in the care of his twelve-year-old sister. Given the hardships his family endured, Chen was certainly entitled to periodic bouts with the blues. Unfortunately, his survivor’s guilt and abandonment issues would prove emotionally paralyzing, even after he moved to America. Despite his training as an organizational psychologist, Dr. Chen had trouble “curing” himself. It was not until he integrated spiritual elements into his life that Dr. Chen finally started feeling at peace with himself.

It turns out those Gideon Bibles in hotel rooms do some genuine good from time to time, at least judging from Dr. Chen’s story. Indeed, there is a great deal we can learn from the way Dr. Chen balances his personal faith with the science and medicine of his vocation. It is an inspiring film in many ways, sensitively rendered by Love, the animator, through hand-drawn and stop-motion techniques.

Dr. Chen is a real role model, but his life-story is much more complicated than “mere” triumph over adversity. In a brief seven minutes, Dreyer & Love give viewers a sense of that rich complexity. Still, there is considerably more uplift in Fear than the vast majority of documentaries on the Cultural Revolution and mental illness. It is a deeply moving film that features some cool animation as an extra added bonus. Very highly recommended as a stand-alone film on its own merits, Fear will be incorporated into Dreyer & Love’s feature-length project Bipolar Girl Rules the World and Other Stories, following its screening as part of the Whoopi’s Shorts program at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Starring Austin Pendleton (short)

His imdb page looks impressive, but it only covers a fracture of Austin Pendleton’s work. While the movie industry largely sees him an eccentric character actor, the theater world better understands his talents. Whether it is a grand Broadway theater or an Off-Off Broadway cubby-hole, rarely a week goes by in New York without a stage-production either starring or directed by Pendleton. The instantly recognizable thespian finally gets an overdue cinematic ovation in Gene Gallerano & David H. Holmes’ short documentary Starring Austin Pendleton (trailer here), which had a special Tribeca Talks screening at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Once you see Pendleton, you will totally recognize him. He had recurring roles on Oz and Homicide: Life on the Street, as well as supporting parts in the Oscar-winning A Beautiful Mind and the Oscar-nominated Amistad, but he is probably best known as the stammering attorney in My Cousin Vinny. In fact, Pendleton has a lot to say about how he came to terms with his close association with that film.

In most of his interview segments and those of his admiring colleagues (including Ethan Hawke, Nathalie Portman, Peter Saarsgard, and the late Philip Seymour Hoffman), we get a sense of Pendleton’s generous spirit and professionalism. However, we also see he can let loose some attitude when it is warranted. An appropriate example is Janet Maslin’s dubious NYT Magazine piece, in which she dubbed Jeff Bridges the “most under-rated actor.” (At that point, Bridge had three Oscar nominations to his credit.) It was a ludicrous piece, much like when Yahoo Movies features one-hundred-million-dollar grossing films on listicals of overlooked sleepers. Viewers will second his venting, just like Ethan Hawke.

One thing that clearly comes through in the twenty minute short is the adventurousness of Pendleton’s stage work. He is willing to give new works a shot, simply because they are interesting. We’ve covered him as the star of the fascinating Another Vermeer and the director of the Pearl Theatre Company’s first Tennessee Williams revival, Vieux Carré, both of which took a bit of guts, but the resulting productions were excellent.

Pendleton’s career could easily sustain a feature length American Masters treatment, but for now, Starring is an admirable bite-sized overview. It is also sadly fortuitous Gallerano and Holmes were able to record Hoffman’s tribute to Pendleton, whom he credits for launching his stage career. Anyone with any interest in the craft of acting should keep an eye out for Starring Austin Pendleton, following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: By Sidney Lumet

Have we lost Deathtrap to political correctness? It was once celebrated for its frank depiction of sexual orientation, but in an era of safe spaces, are its unsavory characters now a too edgy for the professionally sensitive? You have to wonder, since it is completely absent from a new career-surveying profile of its director, Sidney Lumet (aside from the final screen crawl of his filmography). Nancy Buirski covers all the Lumet core requirements (12 Angry Men, Network), but her choice of electives is frustrating in By Sidney Lumet (trailer here), which had a special Tribeca Talks screening at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There was good reason for Lumet’s reputation as an actor’s director. He understood thesps because he once was one himself. As a child actor, Lumet started out in Yiddish theater, before moving onto Broadway and radio (where the bread was really terrific). In time, the grown-up Lumet segued into theater and television directing, working prolifically on the Golden Age dramatic showcases. He also happened to direct an Off-Broadway production of Mr. Roberts Henry Fonda rather liked, so the star was amenable when someone suggested Lumet to helm the theatrical feature version of Reginald Rose’s teleplay, 12 Angry Men.

From there, Lumet and Buirski go film-by-film, mostly in rough chronological order. Plenty of time is justly devoted to The Pawnbroker, Network (still a grossly misunderstood film), Serpico (including a few bars of Bob James’ kind arrangements), and Dog Day Afternoon. On the other hand, Lumet’s red diaper baby films, Daniel and Running on Empty get disproportionate attention. Fail-Safe and The Verdict are also duly covered, but not as extensively as you might expect. However, his Oscar-winning outlier, Murder on the Orient Express is only seen in passing.

When you have credits like Lumet’s, an interesting minor film like the le Carré adaptation The Deadly Affair is understandably overlooked (it also might have been better known if it had not changed George Smiley’s name, for contractual reasons). However, Buirski’s determination to frame Lumet as the great voice of morality in American culture gets a little heavy handed, especially for the generally modest Lumet.

The best of Lumet’s films could provide grist for hundreds of film studies theses, but when he was off his game, he could drop bombs like Gloria and Critical Care. Hey, nobody is perfect. Of course, it might have been interesting (and even instructional) to hear more about the misfires. As it stands, By Sidney Lumet is highly watchable, like an installment of American Masters, where it is indeed ultimately destined. Recommended for fans of 1970s New York cinema, By Sidney Lumet will eventually air on most PBS stations, following its special screening at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: The Last Laugh

With The Great Dictator, Charlie Chaplin tried rather unsuccessfully to re-appropriate his toothbrush mustache. In the process, he established an unofficial rule of comedy that has been pretty scrupulously observed until recent years. You can mock Hitler (see John Cleese in half the episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus), but you cannot joke about what he did. Many popular comedians and also Sarah Silverman discuss and debate the last taboo in their business throughout Ferne Pearlstein’s The Last Laugh, which screened during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There is no consensus of opinion among the survivors featured in Last Laugh. Some claim they never could have endured without the subversive power of humor, whereas others say they never found anything funny about the Holocaust—end of story. Despite Chaplin in Dictator and Bugs Bunny in Herr Meets Hare (which Warner Brothers withdrew from general circulation after the war ended), Hitler jokes were still a little iffy until Mel Brooks scandalized polite society with The Producers.

Frankly, you have to marvel at Brooks’ fearlessness when he discusses his long “relationship” with Hitler. Obviously, French Holocaust survivor and original Hogan’s Heroes cast-member Robert Clary has a very personal perspective on the issue as well. There is also a healthy disagreement regarding Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautiful, with the Anti-Defamation League’s Abraham Foxman taking a “pro” position and just about everybody else lining up against.

Yes, Mel Brooks is still funny and Silverman still isn’t. As a result, there are some mid-sized laughs sprinkled throughout Pearlstein’s doc, but her cafeteria style approach makes it feel more like the pay cable special it should have been. However, the double-secret bootleg footage of Jerry Lewis’s notoriously off-key Holocaust comedy, The Day the Clown Cried (pointedly contrasted with Benigni’s mawkish shenanigans) is a coup that should attract curious gawkers.

Pearlstein is sensitive in the way the film presents tasteless humor, so it is unlikely to offend any viewers. Last Laugh also moves along rather snappily, but it never delivers the deep revelations of its implied promises. Yet, the film will serve an important purpose as a benchmark to measure the further evolution of comedic standards. Considering the rise in anti-Semitism (driven by immigration trends and anti-“Zionist” activism), would anyone be surprised if Holocaust jokes were to become common place in five years? Pearlstein never asks that question, which is a lost opportunity. Sometimes amusing and sometimes informative, The Last Laugh is a mostly competent attempt to take our cultural temperature on a critically significant subject. It screens May 1^st, 2^nd, and 7^th during this year’s Hot Docs following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Special Correspondents

Radio reporter Frank Bonneville and his engineer Ian Finch could be called the Jayson Blairs of radio, except they really intended to cover the uprising in Ecuador. Unfortunately, a funny thing happened on the way to the airport. It was all Finch’s fault, as it often is. In accordance with their journalistic ethics, they will just fake it as best they can in Ricky Gervais’s Netflix original Special Correspondents (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

After sleeping with the oblivious Bonneville, Finch’s preening wife Eleanor decides to give him the heave-ho. Frankly, it is probably the best thing that could happen to him, especially considering Claire Maddox the kind-hearted segment producer seems to be carrying a torch for him. The Ecuador assignment should be a convenient cooling-off period for Finch, but he rather inconveniently trashes their tickets and passports instead of his wildly ill-conceived letter to Eleanor.

With the borders closing imminently, Bonneville ensconce themselves in the spare room above their favorite coffee house and proceed to fake it so real, just like Edward R. Murrow would have done. When their “scoops” threaten to escalate the international incident, Bonneville and Finch are summoned to the embassy for their own protection. Of course, that is not going to happen, so they fake their abduction to cover for their absence. Then the stakes really start to rise when Eleanor Finch exploits the [fake] crisis as a means of establishing herself as a media celebrity.

Somehow Gervais (directing himself) maintains a level of mild amusement—light chuckles—consistently throughout Correspondents. There is funny stuff in there, but it is nothing like seeing the rat episode of Fawlty Towers for the first time.

As screenwriter, Gervais hits a nice tone, but he is not so well-informed when it comes to Latin America. Frankly, it is highly unlikely leftist guerrillas would revolt against the Correa regime. If a revolution broke out in the Cuban-Venezuelan-aligned nation (where the independence of the press and judiciary are routinely violated and thuggery is used to intimidate political rivals), it would be in the best interests of both the American people and the Ecuadorans to support the uprising, but our current administration would probably prefer to continue currying favor with the Castro regime.

Regardless, Gervais works overtime milking his likable sad sack shtick. However, it is Eric Bana who really gives the film some bite as Bonneville, the cocky prima donna. Vera Farmiga is ridiculously over-the-top as Eleanor Finch, but that is the whole point. Kevin Pollak also gets in a handful of sly line-deliveries as Bonnevilla’s less-than-impressed station manager.

Arguably, Correspondents is the perfect film to lead an almost entirely streaming life. It is diverting in the moment, but leaves nothing behind in the subconscious. More watchable than memorable, Special Correspondents launches on Netflix this Friday (4/29), following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Obit

Clearly, this is an important documentary, because people were dying to be in it. That joke was promised on Twitter, so there it is. In all seriousness, obituary writing is a skill you have to admire, because you never know when the bell will toll for someone important. True, publications will have pre-written obituaries on file for people of a certain stature who have reached a certain age, but who would have thought to do that for Prince? Even more challenging and often more rewarding are the recently deceased who were not household names but still made a lasting mark on the world. Vanessa Gould observes the New York Times obituary staff at work and samples some of their pieces in Obit, which screened as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Loyal readers (who are probably dying off fast) all want their loved ones memorialized with a NYT obit, but very few make the cut. However, occasionally a call from family members pans out, like the late Jack Kinzler, who really did save Skylab. In a sense, these obituaries rescue the accomplished departed from obscurity, serving as time-capsule histories of their time and field of expertise.

Gould and the staff writers get into process, but not to tedious extent. Having been burned in the past, obituary writers have to get on-the-record confirmation for each passing and whenever possible the cause of death. The latter can be a little sticky at times, but readers will wonder if it is not there. When they are lucky, there are photos and perhaps even an advance obit in the so-called “morgue,” presided over by archivist Jeff Roth. Probably his greatest archival discovery was the advance for 1920s daredevil pilot Elinor Smith, who lived to the ripe old age of 98, even though editors doubted her luck would hold out during the height of her fame.

Gould and her subjects convincingly argue obituary writing is a life-affirming practice, which is cool. However, it would have given the film greater scope if she had incorporated obituary writers from different, perhaps more specialized publications. Believe it or not, The New York Times is not the only periodical publishing obits. Still, it is fascinating to listen to the many thumbnails of the obituary department’s greatest hits, like the tragically sweeping life of Anna Peters, a.k.a. Svetlana Alliluyeva [Stalin].

You have to wonder if the sudden deaths of popular figures like Prince, Chyna, and Papa Wemba are good or bad for a doc like Obit. Of course they can never schedule screenings around death, because it is always with us. Somehow Gould maintains both a sensitive tone and a breezy pace throughout the film. Recommended as a tip-of-the-hat to an under-sung field of journalism, Obit premiered at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival, with screenings to follow on 5/2, 5/3, 5/7, and 5/8 at this year’s Hot Docs in Toronto.

Tribeca ’16: A Hologram for the King

Any country that prohibits the consumption of alcohol is a terrible place for a mid-life crisis. Most inconveniently, Alan Clay finds himself in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, just as his personal life and finances reach their nadir. He has one last chance to make a career-saving sale in Tom Tykwer’s A Hologram for the King (trailer here), which is now playing in New York after screening as part of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

How did the desperate-looking Clay get assigned the KSA account? He once cracked a joke that made one of the dozens of Saudi princes laugh. It is not much, but his company is looking to play any angle. They need the King to buy their holographic tele-conferencing software or face shareholder wrath. Unfortunately, Clay does not encounter the same sense of urgency when he finally arrives in Jeddah.

For the severely jet-lagged Clay, just getting to King Abdullah Economic City (KEAC) will be a challenge. Constantly over-sleeping the shuttle, Clay must repeatedly book Yousef as his private driver and the film’s comic relief. Once on-site, he quickly realizes his software pitch has been back-burnered. Nothing can happen without the King, who is constantly traveling abroad.

Clay’s team will also need better connectivity to make their pitch but they are being unceremoniously quartered in a stifling hot tent. The only staffer who will talk to him in the main building is Hanne, a Danish contractor who can at least hook him up with some contraband booze. To make matters worse, the suspicious growth on his back seems to get worse. However, his luck might finally change when he is examined by Dr. Zahra Hakem, one of the few women doctors in the KSA.

Seriously, it is hard to believe Dr. Hakem would ever treat a male westerner in a country where women are not allowed to drive (as the film duly depicts), but it allows a rather appealing romance to develop between the doctor and her patient. In fact, Tykwer’s adaptation of the Dave Eggers source novel readily acknowledges the severe theocratic regulations and the frequent public executions as a fact of Saudi life. However, it seems to reserve its outrage, since there are apparently work-arounds available for western expats. That is all well and fine for booze, but being LGBT in the KSA is still a dangerous proposition.

In fact, we get a sense of this intolerance when Clay starts his unlikely courtship of Dr. Hakem. Evidently, they can only steal a kiss while snorkeling along the sea floor. In terms of economic and geo-political concerns, the film clearly argues China is a far more sinister threat to the West, which is admittedly tough to argue with.

Tom Hanks does his Tom Hanks thing as Clay, but in this case his everyman is a bit more depressed and self-indicting. The halting romantic chemistry he develops with the charismatic Sarita Choudhury is quite engaging and quite convincingly played from a rational emotional perspective. (Again, it is hard to believe things could ever get so far in the opened-minded KSA, but why let reality stand in the way of a nice movie subplot?) On the other hand, Sidse Babett Knudsen (also seen in the first-rate Courted) is criminally under-employed as Hanne.

Arguably, Hologram invests greater symbolic significance in a cyst than any film since Richard E. Grant went nuts in How to Get Ahead in Advertising. Don’t worry, this one doesn’t talk. Strangely, Tykwer manages to humanize our friends the Saudis to a remarkable extent, even though the film will absolutely discourage viewers from visiting. Not essential by any means, A Hologram for the King is modestly recommended for those looking for a rom-com with mature adults, which are few and far between. It is now open in New York at the Lincoln Plaza, following its screenings during the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Elvis & Nixon

Generations of Americans grew up with the reassuring presences of Elvis Presley and Richard Nixon. You can’t get much more iconic than blue suede shoes, the swiveling hips not on The Ed Sullivan Show, Checkers the Dog, and the Pumpkin Papers. It turns out the two men had more in common than the general public generally assumed. Liza Johnson gives the famous late December 1970 summit meeting a thinly fictionalized treatment in Elvis & Nixon (trailer here), which is now playing in New York after screening as the centerpiece of this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

In late 1970, Presley was already a regular fixture in Vegas, but it would be eighteen months before he cut his milestone cover of “Always On My Mind.” The Gospel-singing man from Memphis has had enough of the hippies, New Left agitators, and Black Panthers he sees on television. After shooting out the TV (because he’s Elvis), he decides to fly to DC in order to meet with Pres. Nixon. The King has a half-baked notion of becoming a “Federal Agent At-Large,” not that such a thing exists.

To fulfill his mission, Presley slips out from under the Colonel’s thumb, calling on his old friend and former Memphis Mafia member Jerry Schilling to coordinate the logistics. Of course, even in 1970, nobody could just walk into the Oval Office, but Elvis Presley could get closer than most. He finds a key ally in Egil Krogh, the White House policy specialist on narcotics, who not so realistically envisions the King serving as a powerful spokesman for the administration’s anti-drug campaign.

Elvis & Nixon is a surprisingly gentle and nostalgic film that truly forgives the foibles of its subjects. Johnson and the trio of screenwriters, Joey Sagal, Hanala Sagal, and actor Cary Elwes, zero in on the common ground shared by the two Horatio Alger figures. Frankly, it is downright shocking (in a good way), how steadfastly the film resists taking pot shots at the Nixon administration figures.

Although not an obvious candidate, Michael Shannon turns out to be an inspired choice for Presley. Granted, he hardly has that resonate baritone voice, but he can do Presley’s aura and bearing without resorting to shtick. He powerfully conveys both the pride and regrets of the man they still call “King.” As an added bonus, he shares some quietly effective scenes with Alex Pettyfer’s Schilling. On the other hand, it is harder for Kevin Spacey to avoid sliding into impersonation terrain as our beloved and reviled 37^th President. At least his Nixonisms never feel vindictive or cheap.

Watching the eccentrically simpatico chemistry shared by Shannon and Spacey will make viewers regret the famous 1970 meeting was a one-off. You can almost see Presley and Nixon being the sort of friends they really needed, because unlike Bebe Rebozo and the Memphis Mafia, each was completely separate from the other’s world. Regardless, it is strangely entertaining to watch the two legends eat M&Ms and drink Dr. Pepper together. Recommended rather affectionately, Elvis & Nixon is now playing in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and Bow Tie Chelsea, closely following its centerpiece screenings at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: The Fixer

You might think Afghanistan is worlds apart from this Humboldt County-ish community, but they have their similarities, like violently erratic drug growers. However, Osman does not know the lay of this darkly sinister hippy land. Yet, he ought to understand the importance of local knowledge better than anyone in Ian Olds’ The Fixer, which screens today as the best actor award winner at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Osman was a fixer, one of those unsung guides/translators/hand-holders who are indispensable for foreign correspondents. Since hotshot journalist Gabe uncharacteristically sung Osman’ virtues, his original hometown paper agreed to serve as Osman’s immigration sponsor. However, they do not have a job waiting for him, as Gabe had led him to suspect. Some of the town’s unsavory elements are less than welcoming, but his host, Gabe’s sheriff’s deputy mother Gloria could not be more welcoming. In fact, she might be too happy to have him staying with her.

As Osman acclimates himself to the area, he crosses paths with Lindsay, who definitely qualifies as local color. To make up for a less than auspicious first meeting, Lindsay takes Osman under his wing, offering him an unofficial tour of the local drug scene. Unfortunately, Lindsay disappears soon thereafter, having run afoul (again) of Russian “organic farmer” Dmitri Sokurov. Reasserting his journalistic instincts, Osman resolves to save Lindsay or at least bring his killers to justice.

The Fixer is a bit of a Jekyll-and-Hyde movie, but it represents a quantum improvement from Olds’ last James Franco project, the unwatchable sham, Francophrenia. There is some wit in Fixer and some intriguing noir, as well as erratic tonal shifts and some awkward telegraphing.

Iranian-American actor Dominic Rains is indeed a reasonably defensible choice for the Tribeca acting nod. He balances intelligence and naïveté quite adroitly and develops crackling good screen chemistry with the remarkably diverse ensemble. He even plays off producer James Franco quite well. Frankly, Franco is somewhat effective as the stoner lowlife in his initial, out-of-focus, off-kilter scene, but he clearly looks miscast (presumably by himself) in every subsequently well lit scene.

In contrast, Melissa Leo is uncomfortably real as Gloria, while Rachel Brosnahan brings out surprising dimensions in Sandra, the hipster actress Osman might be getting involved with. However, it is Thomas Jay Ryan (a.k.a. Henry Fool) who really spikes the ball as the mysterious Sokurov.

For what it’s worth, The Fixer is probably the best Franco film since True Story, which is a more impressive distinction if measured in intervening movies rather than years elapsed. It is not perfect, but it is worth checking out to watch actors like Rains, Ryan, and Brosnahan do their thing. Recommended for fans of small town noir, The Fixer screens today (4/24) as an award-winner at the 20016 Tribeca Film Festival and also today during the San Francisco International Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Win!

If you think New York is a challenging city for athletes to play in, try coaching here. Just ask Jason Kreis about coaching the inaugural 2015 season of New York City Football Club (FC). As a joint-venture launched by the New York Yankees and Manchester City, the new team was not fielded to just play hard and feel good about themselves. The pressure is on right from the start for Kreis and team director Claudio Reyna. Justin Webster chronicles the formation of the team and the shifting fortunes of their first season in Win! (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

As a melting pot city, there are plenty of New Yorkers who know soccer/football. As the home of the 1970s-era New York Cosmos, there are also plenty of New Yorkers who remember championship soccer. Unfortunately, despite their deep pocket owners, NYCFC have to operate within the constraints of a salary cap, unlike the high-flying Cosmos, who were able to shovel money at Pelé and anyone else they wanted.

According to league rules, NYCFC can start with a few big-ticket “designated players,” like team captain David Villa and Frank Lampard. However, they will have to fill most roster slots through the expansion draft, which is rather confusing to watch without any explanatory context. Regardless, Kreis has reason to feel optimistic, until the team falls victim to its parent organization’s success. In a strange twist of fate, Lampard plays so well during his warm-up stint with Manchester City, the City Football Group decides to keep him there for the team’s championship drive.

Without that big piece of the puzzle, the NYCFC struggles in the early going. Kreis and Villa, who seem to have similar temperaments, take the team’s slow start particularly hard. At least Villa knew he would return the next season. For Kreis, that is never certain, even when Lampard finally arrives and the team starts a come-from-behind playoff push of its own.

Throughout Win!, Webster opts for a you-are-there observational approach, but the lack of supplementary background will frustrate viewers who do not already follow MLS soccer. For instance, the film never even acknowledges New York, already had one MLS team, the New York Red Bulls, who play in a New Jersey Arena.

Frankly, the emotional reserve and self-critical nature of Kreis and Villa gives Win! an unusually neurotic vibe for a sports documentary. Considering all that we see them go through during the film, developments in post-season definitely come as a disappointing letdown. As a result, Webster’s documentary might not drum up fan enthusiasm in the way the City Football Group had hoped. Still, it offers in interested glimpse into the increasingly global business of sport, but given its New Yorkness, it might not travel so widely on the festival circuit. Recommended for New York FC fans, Win! screens again today (4/24), as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: My Scientology Movie

Most churches would be happy if you volunteered to help with the next potluck dinner. They would hardly expect you to commit to a billion years of indentured servitude. Nor do most credible religions hide their precepts behind a pay wall. There are Ten Commandments for all Catholics and Protestants, no matter how much you put in the collection plate. The “Church” of Scientology operates differently. Money and secrecy are deeply ingrained in the organization’s culture and modus operandi. Louis Theroux approached Scientology, hoping to get an insider’s perspective, but they told him to go pound sand. Instead, he experiences what it is like to be a target of their “Squirrel Buster” harassment teams in John Dower’s My Scientology Movie, presented by BBC and TV Nation alumnus Louis Theroux, which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Theroux never sent out to do a muck-raking expose. He really wanted to understand the mind-set of Scientology’s true believers. Instead, they threw a bunch of muck at him. Stuck on the outside looking in, Theroux hopes to glean insights into the closed world through a series of dramatic re-enactments of the most controversial episodes of Scientology history. To help him cast key roles, Theroux enlists Marty Rathbun, who served as the Church’s former Inspector General (basically, the chief inquisitor), before breaking with Scientology’s chairman-of-the-board, David Miscavidge.

The resulting re-enactments are almost jaw-droppingly surreal, but also pretty darned scary, in no small measure thanks to the wild-eyed intensity of Andrew Perez playing the part of Miscavidge. Yet, the behavior of the Church-recruited camera crews dogging Theroux and Rathbun are even more bizarre. Through their hostile stalker tactics, the so-called “Squirrel Busters” (Scientologists use more jargon than George Smiley’s People) essentially prove everything defectors like Rathbun claim. However, Theroux does not let his technical advisor off the hook either, diplomatically challenging Rathbun on his role developing the invasive tactics that are now being used against him.

There is an absurdity to Theroux’s interaction with Scientology’s finest that would almost be comical, if it were not so sinister. The frequent spectacle of one camera-operator filming another is worthy of Samuel Beckett and/or Charlie Chaplin. You have to give Theroux credit for putting himself out there. He did not simply splice together some footage and layer on his voice-overs. Several times he faces down high-ranking church enforcer Catherine Fraser (the ex-wife of former Church staffer Jeff Hawkins, who also advises Theroux on Scientology’s extremes), who appears to be charged with keeping his cameras off a stretch if public road bordering their complex.

My Scientology Movie combines humor and guts in a way not seen in documentary form since Mads Brügger’s The Ambassador. While it is not as comprehensive as Alex Gibney’s Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief, the two docs nicely complement each other. Simultaneously laugh-out-loud uproarious and deeply disturbing, My Scientology Movie is a can’t miss film. Highly recommended for general audiences, it screens again tonight (4/24) as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival, with subsequent screenings scheduled for May 1^st, May 3^rd, and May 8^th during the upcoming Hot Docs in Toronto.

Tribeca ’16: Pistol Shrimps

If you are true to the game, it will be true to you. On the other hand, if you secretly moonlight with a rival team, you might just suffer a season-ending injury. That’s how it is in the big leagues and in the Los Angeles’ women’s rec league as well. Everything you like to think about sports will be confirmed in Brent Hodge’s Pistol Shrimps (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There were plenty of intramural basketball leagues for guys in LA, but nothing for women. As unfair as it sounded, it was also a reflection of demand at the time. However, when a group of actresses, comediennes, and models decided they wanted to play, they managed to drum up enough interest to field a small league. Having built it, more players and teams started to come. In fact, the league sort of caught on, becoming something of a thing.

Although they played a pivotal role in the league’s founding, the Pistol Shrimps ranked towards the bottom of the standings during the initial seasons. Yet, they built up a strange cult following, largely due to their roster, which includes Aubrey Plaza, Molly Hawkey (who became internet-famous for splicing herself in clips from The Bachelor), model Melissa Stetten, and actress Angela Trimbur (who totally kills it in Trash Fire and The Final Girls and also leads the Shrimps’ halftime dancers).

Yes, they really have a halftime show, but it is probably the play-by-play podcasts that built their fanbase. Frankly, it is more random color commentary than play-by-play, but whatever. The point is, people seemed to like following the Shrimps and the poise they gained on the court also seemed to carry-over to some extent with their professional careers.

Unfortunately, Plaza nearly torpedoed their championship run when she tried to play on the down-low for another team, earning herself an untimely injury and a stern talking-to from her management. Can the Shrimps come back? Is there a Hollywood ending in the house?

It is gratifying to see players from different walks of life come together through their passion for the game. The Pistol Shrimps are particularly cool, because they are one of the few teams that did not femme-up a pro team’s name, like the She-Cago Bulls. Rather they took inspire from the small crustacean whose powerful snapping claw emits a mini-sonic boom, so there is your Animal Planet sound bite of the day.

As you would expect, the Pistol Shrimps can talk trash with the best of them. Funny is their business (in most cases), but they play to win. Their enthusiasm is contagious throughout the film. While Hodge and co-producer Morgan Spurlock surely see wider social significance to the Shrimps’ appeal, they keep the film breezy and snarky, as the fans would prefer. Recommended for all basketball fans, Pistol Shrimps screens again today (4/23) as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival, with future screenings scheduled for May 11 and May 15 at the DOXA Documentary Film Festival in Vancouver.

Tribeca ’16: Lavender

Burl Ives won an Academy Award for his retooled recording of old English folk song “Lavender’s Blue.” This eerie parnormal-repressed memory rendition is not likely to repeat that dubious fate, but it underscores the mood quite aptly. There is indeed quite a lot of creepy kid’s stuff going on in Ed Gass-Donnelly’s Lavender (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Obviously, something profoundly messed with Jane when she was young. These days, she obsessively photographs old, abandoned farmhouses—just for fun. After rolling her car to avoid a little girl who could have walked off a V.C. Andrews’ cover, Jane wakes up with scant memories of her daughter Alice and her not quite fully estranged husband Alan. It seems the accident aggravated long “healed” trauma from her chaotic childhood. According to Liam, the hospital head-shrinker, her rehabilitation might very well awaken long suppressed memories along with her healthy adult memories.

To spur the process, Jane will return to the childhood home she just learned she owns. Apparently, good old Uncle Patrick has been managing the upkeep on her behalf since her years in foster care. Slowly fragments of memory make their way back to Jane, abetted by the unnerving gifts left for her on the porch (ballerina figurines and the like). Unfortunately, Jane will not handle the resulting stress well.

Gass-Donnelly does not blaze a lot of trails in Lavender, but he maintains an appropriately sinister vibe. He definitely has a rural gothic thing going on, which is further amplified by Colin Stetson & Sarah Neufeld’s discordant chamber-style string motifs and Brendan Steacy’s evocative (one might even say haunted-looking) cinematography.

Abbie Cornish melts down convincingly as Jane, while Diego Klattenhoff looks comfortable enough in the rural setting. Playing a bit against type, Justin Long is not terrible as the psychologist, perhaps prolonging his career another six months. The film also features enough poised, professional, and slightly otherworldly looking pre-teen girls for a decade’s worth of Poltergeist reboots.

Without question, Lavender is a much more accomplished looking and sounding film than most ghostly dramas. Of course, just dropping the phrase “family secrets” sort of telegraphs the big reveal (just how many different kinds of family secrets do we ever see in movies?), but the getting-there is quite skillful. Recommended for fans of moody, carefully produced supernatural thrillers, Lavender screens again tonight (4/23), as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Fear, Inc.

If you make a Xerox of a Xerox, the sharpness starts to blur. The same thing is true of hipster hat-tips. Horror fans loved the original Scream film because it signaled to fans that it shared their genre enthusiasms through references to cult classics. However, by using Scream as its touchstone, this film essentially refers to the references. What does that really boil down to? In this case, an abrasively obnoxious protag, who unfortunately is not the first to die in Vincent Masciale’s Fear, Inc., which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Joe Foster is a lazy stoner who leeches off his attractive, well-heeled, gainfully employed girlfriend Lindsey Gains. It is impossible to understand why she would put up with him, except as some sort of wish-fulfillment for screenwriter Luke Barnett. Horror movies and rolling fatties are about the only things Foster knows, but he is quite the expert in both.

Naturally, he is more than intrigued when he hears about Fear, Inc., a shadowy company specializing in immersive horror experiences, even though they have a reputation for taking gigs way too far.  You could ask his best bud’s boss about that, had she not been killed in the prologue. Does that remind you of any other films?

Regardless, Foster’s Fear, Inc. experience seems to be starting up while that ever-patient pal and his wife are staying as houseguests. Foster just can’t tell for sure, because gruff customer service rep told him they were booked solid. Thus begins a maddening cycle of derivative reversals, all which all down to: “this is all just a game, but not this part here, except actually it was too, etc., etc.

Basically, during the entire film, viewers are just waiting for the next changeroo, while Foster’s man-child behavior turns our stomachs. Even the timing for Fear, Inc. is problematic, considering it premiered at Tribeca well after Rich Fox’s purported documentary The Blackout Experiments divided Sundance. While Fox’s film has its issues, the supposedly real life people who develop a psychological dependency on the services of a similar (but not homicidal) outfit are more compelling and the abuse they willing take (both physical and emotional) is far more disturbing.

It is impossible to overstate just how annoying the lead character is. It is one thing to create an extreme persona, but as Foster, Lucas Neff is like fingernails on the blackboard. His relationship with Caitlin Stasey’s desirable and down-to-earth Gains strains believability well past the breaking point. Is it also never clear how Fear, Inc. maintains it operations, since they hung up on Foster before he could properly book his services. If a shadowy cabal wants to be evil that is all well and fine, but screenwriters have to establish a clear plan to monetize their villainy.

Fear, Inc. is not half as clever as it thinks it is, which gets to be a big problem. Frankly, most viewers will be at least four steps ahead the characters right from the start, even while some will appreciate its knowingly ironic Kevin Williamson attitude. Not recommended (yet still more watchable than several of this year’s Midnight selections), Fear, Inc. screens again tonight (4/23) and tomorrow night (10/24), during the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Warped Speed shorts

To this day, Esquire associate editor Alice Glaser might be the greatest one-hit wonder in science fiction. Her short story “The Tunnel” has been steadily anthologized since it was first published in 1961, but there were no follow-ups. Nearly sixty-five years after its initial pub, it has inspired the best science fiction film adaptation at this year’s Tribeca, most definitely including High-Rise. It screens as part of the Warped Speed block of sf short films programmed in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Star Trek at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

André Øvredal’s The Tunnel (trailer here) shows us a future population control advocates could really get behind. After spending a lovely day at the beach, Peter’s family are driving back into Manhattan. Although they keep up appearances for the sake of his little sister, he is grown-up enough to understand how anxious they are about driving through the titular tunnel. Perhaps Logan’s Run fans might hazard a guess as to why. The randomness is supposed to be what makes it fair, but what we will see transpire is anything but.

Tunnel is a tight, emotionally heavy film that looks as good as any dystopian feature film. In terms of tone, it is lightyears removed from Øvredal’s prior feature, Troll Hunter, but it is just as technically adept. While it only runs twelve minutes including credits, Max Amundsen still makes quite an impression as the suddenly mature-beyond-his-years Peter.

Tim Egan’s Curve is also vaguely dystopian but more sketch-like in narrative terms. A young woman comes to, finding herself precariously balanced on the concave ledge of a futuristic aqueduct or who knows what. Egan’s visual backdrop is striking, but watching struggle in such a probably hopeless position is not exactly fun.

The other head-and-shoulders highlight of Warped Speed would have to be Romain Quirot’s The Last Journey of the Enigmatic Paul WR (trailer here). As the Red Moon hurtles towards Earth, only Paul WR’s one-man suicide mission can save the planet. However, he has driven off into the desert to wrestle with his doubts. That is about the only place he can think in peace, because Paul WR is cursed to hear the thoughts of every human in his general proximity. Even feature-length science fiction films often rely on one gimmick, but Enigmatic has a heck of a lot going on. Quirot also maintains a distinctively fatalistic vibe throughout.

The remaining three films largely deal with relationships through a speculative lens. As the shtickiest, Ben Rock’s Future Girlfriend is the least of the program. Mark Slutsky’s Never Happened is amusing but better suited as a piece for a sketch comedy show.

By far, the most substantial of the closing trio is Coralie Fargeat’s Reality+. Sad sack security guard Vincent Dangeville becomes the latest customer of the Reality+ chip. Once installed, the user and all other chip users see an idealized version of himself. Now he can party with the beautiful people, but only while its twelve-hour charge last. Of course, some of those beautiful people are probably also reaping the benefits of the chip. Fargeat’s ideas are quite well developed, but it is rather baffling that she seems to think Aurélia Poirier looks like a plain Jane neighbor. Still, Poirier manages to carry it off through acting, body language, and what-have-you.

Despite the thematic consistency (that could have been more consistent), Warped Speed is a typically uneven short film block. Still, The Tunnel, The Last Journey of the Enigmatic Paul WR, and Reality+ give viewers a solid fifty percent (or sixty-two percent if you calculate total minutes). Recommended on balance for fans of genre shorts, the Warped Speed program screens again this afternoon (4/22) and tomorrow (4/23) as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: High-Rise

Architecture is often destiny. Take for instance Ralph Rapson’s explicitly utopian project, Cedar Square West (now called Riverside Plaza) in Minneapolis. It was conceived to house city residents across the entire economic spectrum (Mary Richards moved on up to the building in the final two seasons of The Mary Tyler Moore Show), but as CSW developed maintenance problems, it became exclusively low income housing, marked by decidedly short-term residencies (suggesting people move out as soon as they can afford to). The imposing complex designed by Anthony Royal is sort of the British retro-Brutalist leftist dystopian version of Cedar Square West. Despite its initial prestige, Royal’s building is even less livable for tenants in Ben Wheatley’s J.G. Ballard adaptation, High-Rise (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

As he looks back on his relatively short time as a High-Rise resident, Dr. Robert Laing grills up a leg of one of the last formerly surviving pet canines, so we know he is a survivor. Moving into the building is quite a coup at the time. The fact that the terrace of attractive single mother Charlotte Melville overlooks his own is a nice bonus. He quickly recognizes her status as the alpha queen of the middle floors’ social scene.

Rather surprisingly, Laing is summoned to the penthouse for a personal welcome from Royal. Even though Melville’s hedonistic bashes look like much more fun than the Versailles-style shindigs thrown by Royal’s wife, Laing craves acceptance from the upper floors. However, the ruthless Pangbourne and his claque keep kicking the doctor back down to where he belongs. Meanwhile, documentarian and lower floor resident Richard Wilder craves Melville, but she will never willingly lower herself to his level. Her rejection will partly fuel the rage that transforms him into a class warrior—and a rapist. (Names are also destiny in the High-Rise.)

As any sort of coherent ideological, socio-economic satire, Wheatley’s High-Rise is a complete mess. Unfortunately, every departure from Ballard’s source novel (and its themes of tribalism and over-crowding) muddles the narrative rather than simplifying it. What was conceived more as a Malthusian parable Wheatley tries to fit into a Marxian box, but it simply does not fit. In fact, he largely loses control of the film’s political implications.

Let’s be frank, there is no capitalism going on in High-Rise. Instead, it is the very model of a modern major socialist state. Inside the building, the distribution of resources is rigidly controlled by the paternalistic Royal. It is a closed system that breeds dependency. As far as we know, there is no reason residents could not shop outside the building, yet they resort to eating dogs when the social order breaks down.

Arguably, High-Rise better illustrates the Burkean defense of class structure as a necessary bulwark against anarchy, causing the lower classes to suffer just as much as the rich, if not more so. Perhaps realizing the disconnect, Wheatley tacks on a risibly didactic epilogue featuring the audio of Margaret Thatcher speaking on the benefits of capitalism while his roving camera takes in the wreckage wrought by the preceding bedlam, but it makes no sense considering the events in question still take place in the 1975 of Ballard’s novel, four years before the green grocer’s daughter dispatched the ineffectual James Callaghan.

In some ways, High-Rise’s merits perversely work against it, particularly Jeremy Iron’s wry, multi-dimensional performance as Royal, which manages to humanize the very tippy-top of the one percent. Similarly, Luke Evans brings brutish menace to bear as Wilder, the Che-like Wilder. Tom Hiddleston’s Laing is fittingly passive, but much like Equals, the real star of High-Rise are the striking concrete and steel architectural backdrops, incorporating the work of production designer Mark Tildesley’s team and the era-appropriate locations, most notably including the Bangor Leisure Centre. It truly looks like a building that will have maintenance issues.

Ultimately, the internal logic of High-Rise is thinner than its characterization. Wheatley and screenwriter Amy Jump give absolutely no explanation why the more vulnerable residents do not simply leave the building’s chaos, presumably hoping viewers will fill in the holes with their pre-existing familiarity with Ballard’s novel. This is a rather sketchy filmmaking strategy that is reflected in the haphazard final product. Not recommended, High-Rise screens again today (4/22) at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival and also April 30^th at the San Francisco International Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Bugs

Remember when William Holden told Ricky Schroder bugs are a great source of protein in The Earthling? What takes them five seconds requires seventy-four minutes in this documentary. Insects are still loaded with protein and seems a good many of them taste like roasted garlic in Andreas Johnsen’s Bugs (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Chef Ben Reade and his research associate Josh Evans at the Nordic Food Lab are the cats to talk to if you are interested in eating bugs. They scour the globe for tasty creepy-crawlers and larva, bringing the prime cuts back to Denmark. For them, it is a messianic mission to find and develop low cost sources of high-protein food-stuffs.

There are two problems with Bugs: it starts with a faulty premise and it repeats the flawed line of reasoning over five beat-for-beat repetitive sequences. Reade and Evans argue bug-based food will be necessary to prevent wide-spread starvation in the future, but their neo-retro-Malthusian analysis fails to acknowledge there is no shortage of land that could be brought into cultivation relatively easily. The hard truth is most famines that occurred over the last century were not due to crop shortfalls, per se, but were the result of government policies designed to punitively collectivize agriculture or to deliberately keep food away from people, for reasons of social control and/or ethnic cleansing. Bugs are not going to help in those situations.

Johnsen’s presentation does not help their case much either. Basically, we watch Reade and Evan travel to an exotic land, where they listen to a lecture from a local expert about westerners’ destructive taste for junk food, before heading out into the wild to rustle up some insectoid grub and grill it up right there in the field.

That is pretty much all Johnsen, Reade, and Evans bring to the big-screen. Unfortunately, there is scant little value-added in terms of visual style or humor, but at least Spacelab (Nikolaj Hess, Mikkel Hess, and Anders A.C. Christensen) gives us something cool to listen to with their up-tempo, jam-band-ish jazz soundtrack. The film sounds great, but it never really gets anywhere. Frankly, this should be a fifteen-minute documentary short, at the most. Not recommended, Bugs screens again this afternoon (4/21) at the more accessible Chelsea Bow Tie Cinemas, as part of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Tribeca ’16: Equals

In the future, employee fraternization will be strictly forbidden. The entire world will be a “safe place” because all emotions will be “switched-off” at birth. Unfortunately, Silas has contracted “Switched-On Syndrome,” or “the Bug.” As a result, he has it bad for his co-worker, whom he also suspects is similarly afflicted. All love is forbidden and hurts like the dickens in Drake Doremus’s Equals (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

Instead of Big Brother, the drones of this Collective are constantly inundated with PSAs designed to maintain public order. Silas has what still ought to be a cool job working as an illustrator, but he constantly asks Nia unnecessary questions about her stories. That makes her uncomfortable, perhaps too uncomfortable. It turns out Nia is indeed a “hider,” who secretly tries to control her SOS symptoms to avoid being ostracized like Silas, who admitted Maoist-style to his stage-one condition.

Silas and Nia soon commence a reckless, highly illegal love affair. He also gets some understanding and practical advice from an underground support group led by Jonas and Bess. The latter will be especially handy to know, since she is a hider working at the Collective’s dreaded Health and Safety Department. Inevitably, Silas and Nia are discovered, at which point Equals becomes a dystopian riff on Romeo & Juliet.

Granted, we have seen this severe future before, but maybe we need to see it again, because we keep forgetting how much freedom we sacrifice when we demand absolute safety from the government. The Switched-Off science of Equals might be speculative, but its implications are already with us. Doremus and his location scouts also help freshen things up with some strikingly neo-futuristic backdrops, including the I.M. Pei designed Miho Museum in Japan and Singapore’s Marina Barrage and Henderson Wave Bridge. If Kristen Stewart fans start making Equals pilgrimages, they might actually learn a little something about modernist architecture and Asian art.

Of course, probably Doremus’ most inspired strategic decision was casting Stewart and Nicholas Hoult as a couple trying to hide their emotions. Presumably, his direction amounted to “be yourselves.” They look perfect together, as if you could stick them on a dystopian wedding cake in World on a Wire or Gattica. Fortunately, Guy Pearce and Jacki Weaver are reliably engaging as Jonas and Bess. Evidently, when an all-powerful collective starts bleaching the human spirit you can still trust Australians. Unfortunately, Claudia Kim is ridiculously under-employed as the PSA voice of the Collective.

In retrospect, the relative reserve of Doremus’s conclusion is rather fitting, even if the optimism is forced. Regardless, it is a stylish and arguably somewhat timely return to the tightly regimented future 1984 and Metropolis warned of decades ago. Recommended for fans of anti-utopian and relationship-driven science fiction, Equals screens again this afternoon (4/21), as a Viewpoints selection of the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.