35-Year Anniversary: Death Wish

Released less than a year apart, The Spook Who Sat by the Door and Death Wish could both be described as dramas of urban angst, featuring soundtracks composed by Herbie Hancock. There the similarities end. Spook was a poorly distributed blaxploitation film about an urban uprising masterminded by the first token African-American hired by the C.I.A. Death Wish (trailer here) became a summer blockbuster that spawned four sequels and a host of inferior imitators. AMC marks the thirty-fifth anniversary of the 1974 original with special broadcasts of the first three Death Wish films this weekend, to be repeated again later in the month.

Although Hancock was at the height of his jazz fusion popularity at this time, his music for Death Wish is more traditionally cinematic and less funky than that of Spook. In terms of ideological implications the two films are entire worlds apart. Spook glorifies a paramilitary group not unlike the Black Panthers. Death Wish chronicles the conversion of an Upper Westside left-winger into a deliberate vigilante. When accused of being a “bleeding heart liberal” early in the film, Charles Bronson’s soon-to-be bereaved architect Paul Kersey replies: “my heart bleeds a little for the under-privileged, yeah.” By the end of the film, it would take considerable rounds of ammunition to get Kersey’s heart to bleed.

The original Death Wish is a somewhat misunderstood film. It is not simply an exercise in target practice, but a darkly brooding portrait of grief and anger. Director Michael Winner takes his time establishing Kersey’s character (at least in the original film), before indulging the audience’s appetite for vengeance. In fact, the film has a relatively modest body count, nearly reaching its halfway point before Kersey finally puts his first notch in his gun-belt.

Though not as memorable as his Spook themes, Hancock’s music effectively underscores the film’s action. If you know anything about Death Wish’s premise, you are expecting something awful to happen to Kersey's family during the opening scenes, and Hancock’s eerie use of strings and synths heightens that uneasy tension (be advised, when the attack occurs, it is still fairly rough viewing, even by jaded contemporary standards). Winner also perfectly captures the vibe of the gritty, grimy New York of the early 1970’s. Viewing it again should lead to greater appreciation of the City’s turnaround under Mayor Giuliani. (As bad as things were when Death Wish was shot, they got worse under Dinkins.)

Death Wish established Bronson as a major box office draw, but also accelerated his type-casting as a squinty-eyed anti-hero. Arguably, it is minor classic, but not a major masterwork. Somewhat unfairly dismissed due to the films which followed it, the original is worth re-evaluating in its thirty-fifth year.

U.S. Premiere: Godard’s Made in U.S.A.

A film set in that provincial French village of Atlantic City and featuring an appearance by Marianne Faithful singing “As Tears Go By,” in between droning voice-overs of orthodox Marxism could only come from one filmmaker: French auteur Jean-Luc Godard. Infamous as much for the circumstances surrounding it as it’s on-screen story, Godard’s Made in U.S.A. (1967, trailer here), finally makes its belated official American debut today at the Film Forum in New York.

Due to the peculiarities of his financial situation, producer Georges de Beauregard needed to put a film into production quickly (and cheaply). Although Godard was already filming Two or Three Things I Know About Her at the time, he was game for the challenge. Quickly settling on Donald E. Westlake’s novel The Jugger (written under the Richard Stark pseudonym) as his source material, Godard then proceeded to radically reshape it into a satirical allegory about the disappearance of Moroccan Marxist Ben Barka. However, Godard and the cash-strapped Beauregard never properly cleared the rights to Westlake’s novel, which is why Made in U.S.A. is only now receiving a proper American release. Obviously, the rights issues must have been settled, since the film is here and Westlake himself was co-operating the publicity efforts for its release, until his recent death on New Year’s Eve night.

Made actually has a describable linear plot, that borrows heavily from the conventions of film noir. However, Godard plays so many of his signature cinematic games and injects such strident (and dated) politics, it is probably not a good starter film for Godard neophytes (Breathless or Contempt would work better for that). However, Godard enthusiasts will likely have a ball watching Godard be Godard.

Ostensibly, Made follows Paula Nelson, played by Godard’s muse and ex-wife Anna Karina, as she hunts for the murderer of her more-or-less former lover, Georges Politzer, a Marxist journalist. In the course of her investigation, she encounters a writer named David Goodis, a secret policeman named Widmark (Christian name Paul, but often mistaken as Richard, in a reference Godard may not necessarily have been making), and two co-conspirators, Richard Nixon and Robert MacNamara (those were deliberate).

While the events of Made unfold in an orderly sequence, looking for logic in the film, especially in terms of motivation, would be a frustrating endeavor. There is always an inescapable randomness in Godard’s universe. There is plenty of meaning though. The didactic politics are inescapable, suggesting anyone slightly to the right of Frantz Fanon is an immoral, illiterate thug. The relationship between Nelson and Politzer also takes on additional layers of meaning given the history between Karina and Godard (who supplies the late Politizer’s disembodied voice).

Karina gives a surprisingly sensitive performance, despite the eccentricity around her and the often strident dialogue. She has a truly poignant screen presence, heightened by Godard’s effective use of music by Schuman and Beethoven. Exhibiting all of Godard’s greatest strengths and idiosyncrasies, Made is never dull but it can be exasperating. It is unquestionably an important film in his canon, but not exactly a full masterpiece in its own right. Still, Made’s premiere American run, starting today at the Film Forum, is a legitimate cinematic event.

Photo credit: Rialto Pictures. Playing 1/9-1/22.

Charmaine Clamor Serenades

My Harana: A Filipino Serenade
By Charmaine Clamor
FreeHam Records

Jazz is the ultimate musical magpie, able to synthesize influences from anywhere around the world. A fresh example of this phenomenon is the Los Angeles based jazz vocalist Charmaine Clamor, who has been blending the Great American Songbook with the music of her native Philippines. With her third release, My Harana, Clamor forgoes the conventional jazz standards, in favor of a repertoire entirely drawn from the romantic Filipino Harana serenades.

Known as songs of courtship and seduction, Harana music derives from the country’s Spanish heritage, which can be heard clearly here in Richard Ickard’s sensitive guitar accompaniment. With his able support, Clamor’s warm-toned voice, singing eight distinct languages and Filipino dialects over the course of the session, weaves some elegantly intimate music.

Clamor sets the late-night vibe right from the start, sweetly caressing the lyrics to “O, Ilaw (Oh, Star).” On Harana’s best arrangements, like “Ilaw,” “Mekeni King Siping Ku (Come Beside Me),” and “Lahat Ng Araw (All of My Days)” Gustavo Garcia’s percussion sets a nice groove, subtly propelling the music, but never killing the mood.

In truth, Harana varies little in terms of tone and tempo, but that is clearly by design here. Like the original serenades Clamor interprets, Harana was clearly crafted for romantic purposes. A bebop scat-singing workout would actually be counter-productive. To offer a little variety, there is a duet number, “Minamahal Sinasamba (Loving You, Adoring You),” featuring Clamor and the Filipino big band crooner, Mon David. While most of the album has a lush, enticing ambiance, the stripped-down arrangement of “Pamulinawen (Stone Hearted)” provides some contrast, as well. Clamor also contributes one original, “Labis (Too Much),” the only English language tune of the session, demonstrating a nice facility for lyrics of romantic yearning.

Since Harana ballads were traditionally the domain of men, her performances on My Harana are notable in their own right. It would be interesting to hear her stretch out this material in more overtly jazz context. We might have the opportunity in New York this Sunday night when she plays the Iridium Jazz Club (set time: 7:00). Those in the Bay Area can also catch her at Yoshi’s on the 22nd. Regardless, she has a lovely voice and a talent for interpreting lyrics, which can be heard to excellent effect on Harana. It is definitely a fitting disk for candlelight from an emerging vocal talent.

The Gambling Life of Yonkers Joe

Casino commercials have become ubiquitous on New York television. Heck, jazz vocalist John Pizzarelli actually gets requests for his Foxwoods casino jingle at gigs. However, for a small-time card-cheat, those mini-gambling palaces are bad for business. Palming cards and switching dice might be a high percentage play at pick-up games, but the casinos play for keeps. Cheating is hard work and earning a dishonest buck is getting harder than ever in Robert Celestino’s Yonkers Joe (trailer here), which opens in New York tomorrow.

Yonkers Joe takes pride in “stealing with his hands.” He is not a fast-talking conman. If his marks are shocked to lose their money, they should not be gambling in the first place. A skilled craftsman, his work has a certain blue collar quality despite its irregular nature. Unfortunately business is off now that all the suckers are giving their money directly to the casinos.

The cardsharp’s recession came at a bad time for Joe. His special needs son, Joe, Jr. graduated from boarding school and suddenly Joe, Sr. has to act like a parent until he can afford to dump his namesake off at an expensive assisted living community. As a result, Senior becomes obsessed with taking down a big casino, but that is serious business that his cronies and long-suffering girlfriend try to discourage.

Yonkers takes us on a tour of racetracks, casinos, and union hall crap games, showing us a world of working class vice rarely seen on film. To its credit, the film never glamorizes gambling. Quite the contrary, casinos and gambling dens seem like miserably tacky places to spend time, but that is where the money is. The stakes of their big caper are also refreshingly small, involving efforts to get loaded dice in and out of a casino game for a modest run at the table’s pass line. Sure, for Yonkers Joe and company, it is big money, but it is not like breaking the bank at Monte Carlo.

Chazz Palminteri is convincingly street smart as Joe, Sr., bringing an on-screen intensity to the title role. As Stanley, his dice loading associate, Michael Lerner also brings real zest to the film. When they ply their trade, Yonkers is a smart, breezy film. Unfortunately, the family drama with Joe, Jr. tends to bog down, without ever really breaking any new ground. Celestino wraps everything up a little too neatly too, given the magnitude of some of Junior’s acting out. Still, to the film’s credit, Yonkers Joe’s character never undergoes any totally unbelievable transformations into father-of-the-year.

Forgiving the sometimes overdone father-son melodrama, Yonkers is clever little portrait of smalltime rounders and grifters. While not perfect, it is one of the stronger screen depictions of the gambling life in recent years. It opens tomorrow in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Just Another Love Story from Denmark

In film noir, love is usually a bad business, capricious and unfair to those who fall under its unhealthy spell. For instance, Dana Andrews falls in love with the portrait of a presumed murder victim in Otto Preminger’s Laura. At least in Ole Bornedal’s Just Another Love Story (Danish trailer here) the object of the protagonist’s affections is a living, flesh-and-blood woman. She just happens to be in a coma. Of course, Jonas, our anti-hero is not perfect either, having a wife and kids at home. Following in the noir tradition, human relations indeed get a bit messy in Bornedal’s darkly stylish thriller, opening this Friday in New York.

Jonas wants to travel the world, but his family obligations leave him trapped in a depressing job: crime scene photographer. One day his hum-drum life gets a jolt of unwelcomed excitement when he is involved in a traffic accident. He walks away unscathed, but Julia Castlund is not so fortunate. When Jonas visits Julia in the hospital, he finds himself mistaken for her lover Sebastian by her large, well-heeled family. Falling in love with the comatose patient (perhaps obsession would be a better word), Jonas plays along, adopting the role of loyal boyfriend, despite his better judgment. The masquerade continues even when Julia regains consciousness due to her lingering amnesia.

So, does Jonas get the girl of his dreams and a lifestyle upgrade? Considering Love Story uses the film noir convention of the dying man’s lament as its framing device, it seems unlikely from the beginning that things will ultimately work out in the end. However, the route Bornedal takes to that point is quite clever. As a screenwriter, Bornedal’s affection for the genre is apparent, dropping one dramatic plot twist after another. (Unfortunately, Jonas’s Revolutionary Road-style angst from being “trapped” in a loving family and steady job gets a tad tiresome though.)

Distinctively filmed, cinematographer Dan Laustsen gives Love Story a crisp, glossy look, while maintaining the appropriate level of shadow and darkness. Despite the flashback structure, Bornedal keeps the film’s intensity level ratcheted up, creating some genuine suspense. It is clear throughout Love Story why Hollywood is aggressively courting the Danish director.

The film is also well served by its credible cast, including a very believable, average-looking Anders W. Bertelsen as Jonas, the ethically-challenged everyman, and Dejan Cukic as his best friend, the strictly business copper, Frank. More than counterbalancing them is the chilling mystery villain, played by the creepily effective Nikolaj Lie Kaas.

Bornedal ties all the elements together in a nasty, surprisingly entertaining thriller. Love Story is definitely for those who take their cinema straight, no chaser. It opens Friday in New York at the Cinema Village.

Jazz Sounds of the Hustler

He composed the scores for most of the Tennessee Williams films that did not become classics. Indeed, the most memorable aspects of films like This Property is Condemned, The Fugitive Kind, and Baby Doll were probably their Kenyon Hopkins penned soundtracks. However, the former Paul Whiteman arranger did compose scores for a few acknowledged classics, including Robert Rossen’s The Hustler (trailer here), which screens at MoMA during the afternoon tomorrow through Friday, for anyone looking for motivation to call in sick.

Paul Newman is “Fast” Eddie Felson, the brash young pool-cue slinger, who learns some life lessons the very hard way. Felson is gunning for Minnesota Fats, the top dog of high stakes pool. Find him he does, in Ames Pool Hall, where they engage in an epic twenty-five hour match. As the momentum shifts between players, Hopkins’s jazz-oriented music brilliantly underscores the contest’s ebb and flow.

Of course, as Felson’s challenge opens the film, it is a safe bet things will not go as he planned. Indeed, the rest of the film builds toward the inevitable rematch. Along the way, Felson takes emotional and physical beatings, making some tragically irreversible mistakes. Perfectly cast, Newman still manages to hold the audience’s rooting interest, even when acting bitterly cruel or wallowing in self pity. Jackie Gleason’s performance as Minnesota Fats is masterfully understated. With grace and subtly, he conveys a character that has seen a lot of life, but came out on top, with his dignity intact. As George C. Scott’s professional gambler explains, Fats has class.

The Hustler might be the best “sports” movie ever. Thanks to Hopkins’ music, the balls almost dance across the table. It also makes the film’s silences so much more effective. The soundtrack album credits a top-flight band of studio jazz musicians, including trumpeters Joe Wilder and Doc Severinson, trombonist Jimmy Cleveland, reedmen Phil Woods and Jerome Richardson, and the great Hank Jones sharing the piano chair with Bernie Leighton (who holds the distinction of being the only other musician to solo on Charlie Parker’s “With Strings” sessions). Of additional jazz interest, separate from Hopkins’ soundtrack, a Dixieland combo led by trumpeter Dan Terry, featuring Kenny Davern on clarinet and Roswell Rudd on trombone, is briefly heard during a frantic party scene in Louisville.

Hopkins’s score is definitely in what would later be dubbed the “Crime Jazz” style. It is film noir music suitable for the characters’ twilight world of pool halls and bus stations. The Hustler also definitely looks right, thanks to Harry Horner’s Academy Award winning art direction. However, the opening titles are a bit of an oddity, stylistically suggesting television credits by using brief snippets from scenes the audience is about to watch in full.

The sad recent passing of Paul Newman happened to be an occasion to reconsider and appreciate his considerable filmography. Arguably, Felson, both in The Hustler and its eventual sequel The Color of Money, is his signature character. Sharply written, The Hustler is a moody classic, featuring vintage performances by Newman and Gleason, perfectly buoyed by Hopkins’ jazz score.

Holland at MoMA: The Interrogation

Considering how many of her films challenged the authoritarian rule of Poland’s Communist government, it is a near miracle the great Polish actress Krystyna Janda was allowed any career at all. She would indeed appear in several films which ran afoul of state censors, including Andrzej Wajda’s Man of Marble, and Rough Treatment, written by Agnieszka Holland. Janda also co-starred with Holland in Ryszard Bugajski’s The Interrogation, which explains its inclusion in MoMA’s retrospective of Holland’s films, now in its closing days.

In Stalinist Poland, even if you tried to avoid politics, political troubles found you. Based on the actual experiences of two Polish women, Janda’s Tonia Dziwisz is a case in point. After a fight with her husband, Dziwisz allows two supposed fans to take her out on the town. However, after plying her with alcohol, they take the oblivious Dziwisz to the secret police headquarters.

As she comes to, Dziwisz assumes she was arrested by mistake, having never shown an interest in politics. However, during her initial interrogation sessions, she quickly figures out she is there as a pawn in a wider campaign to discredit her former lover, the unseen Col. Olcha, a military officer who has clearly fallen out of favor. Despite signing an ill-advised confession in hopes of a quick release, she refuses to implicate her ex-flame, setting the stage for years of mental and physical torture.

Interrogation proceeds to give a literal blow-by-blow of the secret police’s process for humiliating and breaking their subjects. It is not a pretty sight. At first, Dziwisz seems to get better treatment from the punctilious Major Zawada in charge of her case than from his contemptuous Lieutenant Morawski. However, Morawski’s ideals are shaken by Dziwisz’s ordeal. Having survived a concentration camp, he now finds himself in the role of state tormentor. In an admittedly credibility challenged plot turn, he and Dziwisz even become furtive lovers.

As for Holland, she plays that dreaded individual, the ideological fanatic. When not snitching on her cell-mates, she defends their unjust imprisonment, including her own, as a sacrifice on behalf of Communism. Holland spent most of her career behind the camera, not in front of it, but she is scarily believable as the ice-cold true believer.

Completed mere days before martial law was declared in Poland, Interrogation was duly banned shortly thereafter. It is not an easy film to watch, but it is a powerful viewing experience. Anchored by Janda’s harrowing performance (probably her best screen work), Interrogation is an intense indictment of the Communist system, particularly of the Stalinist era, but also of its own time, by clear implication. It screens again tonight at the MoMA.

Best CDs of 2008

As was true last year, choosing the ten best CDs of 2008 was far more difficult than determining the best films. Anytime good musicians come together they will produce something interesting to hear, but a lot of Hollywood talent can collectively produce a truly unwatchable movie. Just about every CD reviewed here is great release, because I prefer to be evangelical when it comes to reviewing music. Again, this is a collective top ten, not ranked from 1 to 10, but in alpha order.

There are not a lot of kora players who are household names in America, but Ablaye Cissoko might prove to be the great popularizer of the instrument. With the burnished trumpet of Volker Goetze, he has recorded Sira, a beautiful duet session that has become a serious sleeper hit for the label.

Carla Bley’s Lost Chords CD from 2007 just missed last year’s ten best list. That is not the case with this year’s Appearing Nightly at the Black Orchid. Bley is one of the best arrangers and composers writing for big bands and large ensembles, and she totally delivers the goods on the hard-swing Appearing.

It is not like I haven’t heard Chick Corea standards like “La Fiesta” and “Senor Mouse” before. In fact, I have heard them previously recorded by Corea and vibraphonist Gary Burton, but it is still a genuine pleasure to hear to the highly attuned musical rapport of two old pros on the live two-disk set New Crystal Silence.

One of the most assured debuts of the year came from Norwegian trumpeter Mathias Eick, who composed all the tracks on The Door, which often suggests dualistic rhetoric: spacious but rhythmic, lyric yet forceful, Nordic cool that swings.

It is a crime that it took so long for Shirley Horn’s 1994 Monterey Jazz Festival set to be released on CD. Her performance was a total show-stopper, including the definitive rendition of Bachrach’s hoary old “The Look of Love.”

Sonny Rollins is the dean of living jazz artists. He also has a reputation for being more comfortable in live settings than in the studio, so a release of some of best performances from his archive of concert tapes seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, Road Show Vol. 1 does not disappoint, capturing the tenor titan in seven stellar live performances.

Despite the common instrument, it would be a mistake to compare Steve Wiest’s Out of the New to the many bachelor pad pop song interpretations recorded by bop trombonist Kai Winding in the late 1960’s. In Wiest’s hands, unlikely fare, from the likes of Green Day and the Foo Fighters are radically reconstructed into legit small group jazz of a very high order.

A warm and expressive vocalist, Norma Winstone’s Distances projects a deceptively sparse atmosphere, from which many gorgeous musical moments unfold. It is an elegant and intriguing session that stays in your head long after listening.

Eri Yamamato could probably have two disks in this year’s top ten, but being naturally modest, I doubt she would want to monopolize the list. I chose Redwoods over the musical duets of Duologues because the trio format just seems to be the perfect vehicle for her ever inventive and thoroughly entertaining music. I also always enjoy the playing of her longtime collaborator, drummer Ikuo Takeuchi.

Synthesizing his many international influences, Alon Yavnai’s Travel Notes features his richly textured compositions. Strongly rhythmic, but also thoughtful and calming, it has a distinctive sound that rewards repeated listening.

2008 was another dreadful year for the music industry, but it was a great year for music, if you knew where to look. This year, make a resolution to support your local jazz artists by going to shows and buying CDs directly from them. Here’s to more great music in 2009.

Redwoods cover art by Leo Yamamoto.

Catchiest Tracks of 2008

As a sidebar to today’s top ten CDs of 2008 above, I add the five most addictive tracks of the year. Not necessarily the greatest artistic statements (although most are in fact, music of quite a high caliber), these were the tracks that often had me hitting repeat on the ipod, for better or worse. These were the tunes that got into my head. These are what I silently hummed to myself as I pretended to listen to my colleagues at work. Most are originals, but there is one pop cover, radically reinterpreted for instrumentation nobody would expect to associate with a Bob Marley song. Without further commentary, these are the tunes five tunes that stuck with me throughout the year:

Jesse Cook’s “Matisse the Cat” from Frontiers.
Gilfema’s “Your World” from Gilfema + 2.
Trygve Seim and Frode Haltli’s rendition of “Redemption Song” from Yeraz.
Eri Yamamoto’s “Wonderland” from Redwoods.
Norma Winstone’s “A Song for England” from Distances.

Best Festival Films of 2008

They may have only screened once or twice in New York, but they were worth making the effort to see. New York is the capitol of the film festival world, with at least one fest nearly every week of the year. The following collective top ten list (in alphabetical order) honors the best films that screened in a New York festival this year, but have yet to have a conventional theatrical release, including short films.

The UN estimates at least 5,000 Muslim women are the victims of so-called “honor killings” each year. It takes some guts for a Turkish film to address this scandalous practice, and indeed Abdullah Oğuz’s Bliss stirred up domestic controversy when it was released there. Those who caught it at the New York Turkish Film Festival would have also enjoying a compelling drama, featuring three richly nuanced lead performances, elevating it beyond the realm of simple issue films.

The December 1989 Timişoara demonstrations loomed large at this year’s Romanian Film Festival, factoring in two documentaries, including Cold Waves, Alexandru Solomon’s scrupulously even-handed documentary about the Romanian division of Radio Free Europe. Timişoara would be RFE’s shiny hour, in which nearly every Romanian turned to it for accurate news about events in their own country. Waves is a highly credible, fascinating viewing experience that deserves a legitimate theatrical run.

Happily, Andrzej Wajda’s Katyń will open at the film forum in February, following appearances this year at several festivals and the Lincoln Center’s Wajda retrospective. It may not be the director’s greatest work, but it is probably his most personal. A masterwork if not a masterpiece, its searing depiction a mass murder gives the audience no place to hide. It is a remarkable film from the world’s greatest living director.

Fandom can be weird, but Yuichi Sato’s nailed it in his idiosyncratic Kisaragi, which screened as part of the Japan Society’s Japan Cuts. Introducing us to five very odd fans of a tragically deceased pin-up idol—guys you don’t want to be—he creates an effective atmosphere of mystery while examining the weird psychology of fandom.

The Human Rights Watch Film Festival almost exclusively programmed films that disparaged countries that you can safely criticize without fear of reprisals. One of the rare exceptions was Eric Bergkraut’s Letter to Anna, which eerily examines the circumstances surrounding the assassination of Anna Politkovskaya, one of the few journalists who actually reported the crimes of Putin and his lackeys. Bergkraut paints an inspiring picture of Politkovskaya, who truly embodied “patriotic dissent.”

The NYTFF also introduced audiences to Ali Osman, one of the greatest screen characters of recent years, but do not call him a mafioso. He was a man of respect, who did his time and lived to tell the tales. Unfortunately, as Omer Vargi’s Love and Honor opens, he will not remember them much longer. His mind is slowly giving way to the ravages of time. Şener Şen gives an incredible performance as Osman, making poetry of what might otherwise have been standard crime melodrama.

Many festival films were billed as topical, but a few, tragically, became even more relevant in retrospect. When it screened at the MIAAC Film Festival, Apoorva Lakhia’s Shootout at Lokhandwala was an adrenaline shot to the heart. Dramatizing the controversial career of A.A. Khan, Mumbai’s real life Jack Bauer, Lokhandwala is told in flashback during the legal aftermath of the title incident. Khan had created Mumbai’s Anti-Terrorist Squad (ATS), which cut crime in the city by upwards of seventy percent. In the wake of Lokhandwala, in which Khan and his men discharged a notorious 1,755 rounds, the ATS was disbanded. Clearly, this was shortsighted, particularly in light of the reported reluctance of Mumbai’s regular police to fire at the November 2008 terrorists. You can be sure Khan and his hand-picked officers would not have such a problem. In its own right, Lokhandwala is a widely entertaining, thoroughly over-the-top action film of relentless spectacle.

There have been a raft of Holocaust films this year, but the best by far clocked in at a mere thirteen minutes. In Jochen Alexander Freydank’s Toyland, which screened as part of the Brooklyn International Film Festival, an Aryan mother cannot bring herself to explain to her young son that his Jewish best friend will be imminently transported to certain death in a concentration camp. Instead, she tells him he is going to Toyland. It is difficult to reveal much of the story given its brevity, but it well earns the emotional payoff of its elegant conclusion.

Sharia law is not much fun, even for Muslims. To keep their neighborhood bar open, the citizens of a provincial Moroccan town will resort to desperate measures, including protecting the town’s last Jewish resident in Hassan Benjelloun’s Where are You Going Moshe, which screened at the New York African Diaspora Film Festival. Wise and wistful, Moshe will screen again in New York during the NY Sephardic Jewish Film Festival.

One of the most courageous performances you will ever see came from Elena Chang as a Korean woman held captive by the Japanese during WWII in James Bang’s Wianbu—Comfort Woman, which screened as part of the NY Korean Film Festival’s short film program. It is absolutely harrowing to watch her character endures repeated violations, as she shames at least one would be tormentor with the depravity of his actions. Thanks to her performance Wianbu’s visceral impact lasts long after its screening.

We pay artificial high rent to live in New York, but in exchange we have opportunities to see the finest in world cinema. Whereas, if you live in South Dakota, you have Wall Drug. There is already action on the 2009 New York Festival scene. Look for coverage of the NY Jewish Film Festival in coming weeks.

First Film of 2009: Cargo 200

It’s 1984 and Big Brother is dying of cancer. Andropov has passed into the great dustbin of history, and the Soviet Union is adrift in an economic and moral malaise. Those who hold power, abuse it, while the country’s next generation of leaders return from Afghanistan in coffins, callously dubbed “Cargo 200” by the Soviet military. Such is the Soviet reality recreated in Alexey Balabanov’s shockingly brutal drama Cargo 200 (foreign trailer here), opening today in New York.

The Kazakov Brothers are members of the old guard. Misha is a Colonel assigned to a provincial post and Artem is a professor of scientific atheism in then Leningrad. On his way to visit their mother in Leninsk, an industrial city that looks depressed and rundown even by Soviet standards, Artem stops at his brother’s flat. There he meets Valera, his niece’s sorta-kinda fiancé, who is deeply involved in sketchy black market business.

Proceeding to Leninsk, the professor’s car breaks down, forcing him to seek help at the home of Alexey, a mysterious, hard-drinking moonshiner. Even a professor of scientific atheism can tell there is something very wrong about Alexey’s home, but he endures a religious debate with the angry drunk (frankly faring quite badly), while Sunka, his host’s Vietnamese servant, fixes his car. Artem is so relieved to be on his way, he never learns who the peculiar man hanging about outside Alexey’s place was.

As soon as the professor leaves, Valera shows up looking for grain alcohol with a girl he picked up clubbing, Angelica, the daughter of the local party boss. When Valera passes out, Alexey tries to have his way with Angelica, but the mystery man outside decides to take her for himself, killing Sunka in the process. Holding her prisoner as his sex slave, the mystery man turns out to be one Zhurov, the local militia captain, played with chilling restraint by Alexey Poluyan. Angelica warns him her fiancé will seek retribution when he returns from his tour of duty in Afghanistan, but her threats do not scare Zhurov. He happens to know her intended will be arriving soon as Cargo 200.

As the search for Angelica intensifies (the daughter of a party boss does not simply disappear, after all), Artem develops suspicions he is too cautious to pursue. Eventually this causes a crisis of disbelief for the academician of atheism, ultimately leading him to the church. It is a truly Russian irony.

Supposedly based on an actual case, what happens during Angelica’s captivity is absolutely vile and horrific. However, it is not exploitation simply for the sake of sadism. It is in fact a withering look at the moral bankruptcy of an evil empire in decline. At the risk of sounding like a promiscuous quote dropper, Cargo 200 could be thought of as Dostoyevsky if adapted by the early 1970’s Wes Craven, but bear in mind, that is not necessarily meant to sound inviting.

Cargo 200 is a remarkable film, but it is tough stuff, decidedly not for everyone. Alexander Simonov’s cinematography and Pavel Parhomenko’s set design evoke the washed out landscapes and decrepit Brutalist architecture that were almost as oppressive as the Communist system itself. Balabanov punctuates his film’s unremitting tension with scenes of abject shock in a masterful, if arguably nihilistic, achievement in filmmaking. Opening today in New York at the Cinema Village, Cargo 200 is an unforgettably disturbing film.

Best Theatrical Films of 2008

You can see a heck of a lot of films over the course of a year in New York, believe you me. I saw quite a few of diverse subject matter and widely varying quality. However, it does not make much sense to compile a top ten list of festival films people outside New York (or even in the City) will have little opportunity to see. They deserve recognition too, so look for a separate list of the best festival films of 2008 in the next few days. For now, we deal with the films of 2008 that had legitimate theatrical runs (in New York) and will presumably have an afterlife on DVD. Like last year, this is a collective top ten list in alphabetical order.

The Band’s Visit is a wise film about chance encounters between strangers that may or may not hold significant meaning. Filled with grace and dignity, it is the sort of film Lost in Translation was supposed to be, but was not.

The winner of the 2008 Academy Award for best foreign language film, The Counterfeiters was by far superior to all of the Holocaust related films released late in the year.

Probably no film of the year has appreciated in my estimation since its initial screening as much as Hou Hsiao Hsien’s Flight of the Red Balloon has. While nothing horrendously dramatic happens, its portrayal of the relationships within a unique Parisian family, particularly between the little boy and his somewhat older step-sister, are beautifully observed. It is honestly a touching film, but never cloying or precious.

At times dizzying, James Marsh’s Man on Wire brilliantly recreates Philippe Petit’s death-defying high-wire walk between the World Trade Center towers and the caper-like planning that went into his so-called “coup.” It also effectively evokes a grim time in pre-Giuliani New York, when Petit’s walk was actually welcomed as proof that extraordinary things could still happen in the City.

Sergei Bodruv’s Mongol delivers all the elements of a traditional blood-and-guts historical epic, while celebrating the often maligned historical legacy of Chinggis Khan. Despite the sweeping vistas, hack-and-slash action, and mystical undercurrent, there are also some fine performances from the international cast.

Guy Maddin’s highly stylized vision of his Midwestern Canadian hometown is so hypnotic in My Winnipeg, he will have you believing his outrageous secret history of a city that caters to an abnormally large sleepwalking population and holds interpretive dance séances in the capitol building. He makes the mistake of jarring the audience out of its trance in the final minutes of the film with rather pedestrian griping about corporate development, but until that point, Winnipeg ranks as one of the most original and distinctive films of the year.

With some of the best filmed musical performances since Calle 54, On the Rumba River, profiling Congolese rumba musician Wendo Kolosoy, is the best musical documentary of the year.

Though still relatively recent, much of Cold War history is being forgotten or deliberately suppressed. This is why Laura Bialis’s excellent documentary Refusenik remains so timely. Thoroughly researched and featuring some amazing interview testimony, the film authoritatively documents the inspiring story of the Jewish dissidents who sought to leave the Soviet Union for reasons of religion and conscience.

At its core, Claude Miller’s The Secret about family, but it happens to be a family deeply scarred by the crimes of National Socialism. Though the oblique handling of the Holocaust can be a bit problematic, the insightful script and Miller’s deft handling of his talented ensemble build to a subtle but effective moment of redemption.

I’m frankly surprised to find myself including a time travel film with elements of horror in my top ten list, but when a film plays as many games with its timeline as Timecrimes does, yet holds up to concerted post-screening scrutiny, credit has to be given. A mindblower and a brisk thriller, Timecrimes deserves its props as a thoroughly entertaining picture.

While this year’s presumed Oscar contenders are a mostly disappointing lot, there were some excellent films to be seen. All of the above are highly recommended if you missed them when they were first released

Holland at MoMA: A Lonely Woman

If a filmmaker with artistic integrity working behind the Iron Curtain never ran afoul of the state censors, they probably were doing something wrong. Based on that logic, Agnieszka Holland’s A Lonely Woman was a rousing success, as both film and director were banned in Poland shortly after its initial release. Screening today as part of the MoMA’s Holland retrospective, it serves as a vivid reminder of how grim life was under the Communist system.

Irena and her son literally live on the wrong side of the tracks, in a decrepit one-room apartment. It might not be much, but the landlord is still trying to force her out, resentful that the Party forced them on him. One day the exhausted Irena collapses while walking her beat as a postal carrier. She literally falls into the arms of Jacek, a former miner living on his disability pension after a workplace accident. He might not be much either, but he is smitten with the plain-looking single mother.

Jacek supplements his meager income by charging to shop for his neighbors, capitalizing on his line-cutting privileges. Queuing is a definite motif in Lonely. So are callous bureaucrats, who plague Irena’s unremarkable life. She attempts to petition the Communist Party for redress, but is rebuffed and threatened with arrest. Her superiors at the postal service try to reassign her beat to deny her the meager tips she garners from the many pensioners are her route. Squeezed from every angle, Irena eventually snaps. Suddenly, Lonely veers into Godard territory, as Irena resorts to a desperate (and criminal) flight for freedom that resembles a grim, grey, Communist version of Reckless.

Except for a hint of natural realism at its conclusion, Lonely is a relentlessly naturalistic film. It is a visceral indictment of the system that repeatedly betrays Irena, the very sort of underdog it claimed to protect. Maria Chwalibóg gives a heartrending performance in an often unflattering and unsympathetic role. As Jacek, Boguslaw Linda is pathos personified. Considering the state reaction to the film, their performances were brave in more than just an artistic sense.

Watching Lonely is not a happy experience per se, but it is clearly a passionate film. A film that is finely crafted and acted should not be considered depressing, no matter how great the misery and pessimism it depicts. So have a happy new year watching A Lonely Woman this evening at MoMA.

Final Film of 2008: Good

The Academy likes literary adaptations. They also like films on serious subjects, so Vincente Amorim’s Good begins its limited release on this final day of Oscar eligibility in clear hopes it will find favor with Academy voters. We shall see. Based on C.P. Taylor’s highly regarded stage play about the Holocaust, Good (trailer here) does indeed open today in New York.

Mild-mannered literature professor John Halder thinks he is a good person (hence the title). After all, he has a Jewish friend. That alone should establish his bonafides as a tolerant German. He also cares for his sick mother and supports a temperamental wife. So when the National Socialist cultural authorities notice his obscure novel and ask him to write an academic paper on their behalf, complying does not seem like a significant ethical compromise. The subject of his novel and proposed paper: euthanasia. Does this slope sound slippery?

Suddenly everything is going Halder’s way. His novel is adapted into a motion picture and he ascends to the chairmanship of his department, not that he teaches very much anymore. He now holds an honorary position with the SS as their intellectual figurehead—a so-called advisor on “humanitarian” issues. He has even left his dramatic wife for an adoring younger model. The only challenge to his new life comes from his Jewish army comrade Maurice, who questions his growing involvement with the National Socialists.

Despite his mounting unease, Maurice refuses to abandon the country he fought for during the Great War. Smartly written and compellingly portrayed by Jason Isaacs, he is the redeeming character of Good. However, what he sees in Halder, as played by a wooden Viggo Mortensen, remains a mystery. Halder is supposed to be an ostensibly decent man, who lets ambition and denial blind him to the truth, but there is little sense of inner turmoil in Mortensen’s flat performance. Halder’s ultimate moment of revelation does not make much sense either. Having been mobilized as an SS auxiliary officer during Kristallnacht, he can hardly claim complete ignorance of his colleagues’ crimes.

Good is intended to be an intellectual examination of the attitudes which abet evil, with an emotional kicker at the conclusion. It might have been better served if it had not been released during the award season, where it will surely suffer in comparison to other related films. There are things to recommend in the film, including Jason Isaacs’ terrific performance and production designer Andrew Laws’ frighteningly realistic recreation of Nazi Germany. Unfortunately, their noble efforts are ultimately undone by a lackluster central performance. Good opens today in New York at the Village East.

Happy New Year from J.B. Spins.

Defiance: the True Story of the Bielski Brothers

In a season with a surfeit of Holocaust related films, it might be helpful to think of Edward Zwick’s Defiance as a motion picture of the partisan resistance instead. In addition to sounding different, it also happens to be a more accurate characterization of the film. Chronicling the true story of the Bielski Otriad, a ragtag group of Jewish resistance fighters operating in the Naliboki Forest of Belarus, Defiance (trailer here) opens in New York tomorrow, in advance of a national release in January.

The sibling rivalry between Tuvia and Zus Bielski runs so deep, even the murder of their family and parents cannot fully abate their strife. Seeking sanctuary with their youngest brother Asael in the woods of their youthful explorations, the two elder brothers have vastly different ideas on how to proceed. Zus believes the brothers should look out for each other and extract their revenge on the occupying soldiers and town collaborators when the opportunities arise. Tuvia however, refuses to turn away anyone seeking refuge at their camp.

Their differing temperament leads to a temporary parting of ways for the brothers. Zus joins the nearest group of Soviet dominated partisans, hoping to take the fight to the Germans, while Tuvia stays with the growing band of refugees, building a makeshift shelter in the forest. Though the Communist partisans were initially almost as great a threat to the Bielski Otriad as the National Socialists, an uneasy truce is forged. While Zus proves his fierceness in battle, he still experiences anti-Semitism from his ostensive comrades.

Meanwhile, at the Bielski Otriad, as the community grows, circumstances force a looser approach to relationships, with the development of so-called “forest wives.” Tuvia even makes a clandestine trip to the ghetto, offering an alternative to eventual deportation and certain death. Of course, this was no vacation. In the short term, members of the Bielski Otriad face harsher conditions than those who remained, enduring disease, starvation, and freezing temperatures. However, with Tuvia Bielski there was hope, as the film makes dramatically clear in its finest moments.

Defiance is a bit of a hybrid, fusing elements of the action movie with the serious inspirational message film, yet it all works together reasonably well. Craig certainly comes in with credibility as an action figure and does not disappoint. His early revenge-taking scene (with a mere four bullets) actually ranks with 007’s first kill in Casino Royale as a great, stone-cold cinematic killing. As Zus, Liev Schreiber is frankly a pleasant surprise, intense and completely believable as the action-oriented Bielski Brother.

Unfortunately, Zwick’s direction does not always serve the film as well as his actors. He lets the pacing get bogged down during the sequences of the extreme winter privations and his final battle sequence often feels strangely limited in scope (surely the German military could have spared more than one tank for the operation). He does deserve credit though, with co-screenwriter Clayton Frohman, for not whitewashing Soviet anti-Semitism.

There are no scenes of concentration camps in Defiance, but there is some payback for those killed by the National Socialists. Having reviewed seven Holocaust related films already this holiday season (including new releases, POV, film festivals, and MoMA retrospectives), I almost found that cathartic. Indeed, the film compares well with many of its recent thematic competitors. Defiance is a legitimately inspiring historical story convincingly recreated on-screen. It opens in New York at the Ziegfeld Theatre tomorrow, with a national release on January 16th.

Arild Andersen Trio Live

Live at Belleville
Arild Andersen, Tommy Smith, Paolo Vinaccia
ECM Records 2078

In 1905 Norway dissolved its union with Sweden, becoming the only country to ever democratically elect a sovereign monarch, Haakon VII, formerly Prince Carl of Denmark. To mark the centennial of Norwegian independence from Sweden (an event surely worth celebrating), bassist Arild Andersen composed the Independency suite, which is now the centerpiece of his new trio recording, Live at Belleville.

Belleville, recorded live at the title Oslo jazz club and the Drammen Theatre, launches with Andersen’s ambitious four-part suite. The first movement has a stately but evocative spirit, portending drama to come. The second is more in the free tradition of Andersen’s work with Sam Rivers and Don Cherry, with the Scottish Tommy Smith contributing a fiery solo on tenor.

Independency then segues into an atmospheric, open sounding passage that fits some of the preconceived notions of ECM sound, which Andersen has been a part of almost since the label’s inception (having appeared on Jan Garabrek’s Afric Pepperbird and Robin Kenyatta’s Girl from Martinique in 1970). Andersen’s use of electronic effects also suggests a kinship with some of his soundtrack work, like his Electra, composed for an Athenian production of the Sophocles classic. The suite concludes with a bluesy (if idiosyncratically so) final movement. Throughout, the leader gets plenty of solo space, as does Smith, but his tenor is usually warm or even incendiary, as opposed to Nordic cool.

With Ellington’s “Prelude to a Kiss” Andersen’s trio give the only standard of the session an elegantly sparse treatment that showcases Smith’s free-ranging, but beautifully expressive tenor, subtly supported by drummer Paolo Vinaccia’s brushwork. Belleville concludes with two more Andersen originals. Following a prelude from Vinaccia, still on the brushes, “Outhouse” quickens the tempo, providing a nice vehicle for the trio’s bop chops.

The disk concludes with the haunting melody of “Dreamhorse,” which Andersen introduces on bass in a particularly effective arrangement. The standout track, it also features some of the most sensitive solo statements of the session. (The audience evidently agreed, as they can be heard enthusiastically applauding for the final fifty seconds of the track.)

Andersen covers a great deal of ground in Belleville. Sometimes demanding, at other times lyrically beautiful, it is a richly textured program from a highly attuned group of musicians.

Holland at MoMA: Europa, Europa

Getting outclassed by the Hollywood Foreign Press is pretty pathetic, but that is what happened to the Academy Awards with Agnieszka Holland’s Europa, Europa. More than even Hoop Dreams, it serves as a lingering rebuke of the arbitrary rules established by the Academy in the specialized categories. In a year when Holland’s film was universally hailed as a masterpiece and did indeed win the Golden Globe for best foreign film, the governing German film authority refused to submit it for consideration for the best foreign language Oscar. Coincidentally, it happened to be about the Holocaust. Screening as part of the MoMA’s continuing Holland retrospective, Europa (trailer here) still holds up as a superior film, even in a season notable for a surplus of Holocaust related pictures (of widely varying quality).

Solomon Perel was an ordinary thirteen year old who had the bad fortune to come of age in the Europe of the late 1930’s. After losing a sister during Kristallnacht his father looks East for sanctuary. Born in Lodz, he hastily arranges Polish citizenship for his family, but it is only a temporary reprieve. When the Germans and Soviets partition Poland, he sends Perel and his brother Isaak east again. Separated from Isaak, Perel is taken in by a Soviet orphanage, where he parrots Communist ideology, eventually joining the Komsomol. Again fate intervenes, when he violates the Molotov-Ribbentrop non-aggression pact.

Now accustomed to living by his wits, the native German-speaking Perel convinces the German army he is a purebred Aryan. Initially adopted as the company’s translator and mascot, Perel is eventually sent to Berlin to join the Hitler Youth as a reward for his presumed battlefield heroics. Living in a state of constant paranoia, Perel falls in love with a hardcore National Socialist girl (which might seem implausible, but she is played by Julie Delpy), yet is unable to consummate his courtship for fear his body would betray him in a moment of intimate contact. He would somehow escape many close calls to tell his tale, as Europa is in fact based on his memoir.

Perel survived the war hiding in the bellies of both Twentieth Century beasts, and Europa illustrates clear similarities between the two. Both the National Socialist and Communist schools are shown to be more about indoctrination than education. Both preach forms of hate, directed either against religion and class enemies, or the Jews.

In Holland’s hands, Europa becomes an epic story of survival, viewed from an intensely intimate perspective. While some scenes might feel a bit contrived, several are unforgettable, like a rare moment of humanity Perel shares with the mother of his Aryan girlfriend. Also the sequences in which Perel tries to fix his anatomical tell are physically painful to watch. Just how good an actor Marco Hofschneider is might be debatable, but his appearance of being constantly overwhelmed by events around him is actually perfect for the role of young Perel.

When initially released, Europa was somewhat controversial for depicting a Jewish character surviving (and at times even thriving) as a member of the Hitler Youth. However, Europa never glamorizes any aspect of National Socialism. To the contrary, it depicts Nazi society as sick and depraved. It is a memorable journey through the horrific ideologies of the Twentieth Century that ought to have a little gold Oscar statuette to its credit. It screens again Friday the second and Wednesday the seventh, as the Holland retrospective continues at MoMA.

Bookazine (Whatever That Is): No Depression

No Depression No. 76: The Next Generation
Grant Alden & Peter Blackstock ed.
University of Texas Bookazine (Whatever that is)

Print is dead, or at least so I’ve been told repeatedly as a publishing semi-professional. The magazine business has been particularly brutal over the last ten years or so. Some have tried to maintain a digital life after ceasing hardcopy publication, but it has usually just prolonged the death rattle (case in point: Omni magazine). While No Depression has pursued a similar internet strategy after shipping their final issue this summer, they have also recommitted to ink-on-paper, forming an alliance with the University Press of Texas to publish a twice yearly tradepaperback “bookazine (whatever that is).” With the first bookazine, No. 76: the Next Generation, now out, ND chose a theme of rejuvenation, focusing on youthful string bands currently reshaping the bluegrass scene.

Taking its name from an Uncle Tupelo album and the Carter Family song “No Depression in Heaven,” ND has covered all forms of music which fit under the umbrella of Americana, including: bluegrass, blues, ambitious country music, roots rock, and a smidgen of jazz. For the new incarnation, they made the editorial decision to relegate all live performance reviews to the website, but retained some CD reviews to preserve some of the feel of the original magazine. Indeed, most of No. 76 profiles the youthful string bands, which I am happy to note in a few cases includes artists well into their thirties.

It is cool to see ND find new life in as a bookazine, but as they grow accustomed to the new format, editorial adjustments will need to be made. Unlike the magazine form, the bookish trappings will encourage some readers to start at page one and proceed sequentially to page 144 (like your faithful reviewer). Unfortunately, many of the string band profiles follow the same template, explaining how each group is mindful of tradition, but incorporate a host of outside influences to synthesize their own unique sound, which is exemplified in their latest CD. To be fair, developing fresh hooks to discuss musicians is devilishly difficult (believe me, I empathize completely), but differentiating articles will be a greater concern now than in a proper magazine, which readers typically dip into sporadically.

That said, No. 76 is a thorough primer on the fresh faces on the string band scene. One name that recurs frequently though is no new-comer. As a member of Abigail Washburn & the Sparrow Quartet, Béla Fleck is described as: “regularly rated by many to be the most innovative living master banjoist who’s not Earl Scruggs.” (p. 80) His name reappears as an influence and producer for other artists, as well as art director for No. 76, having stage managed the eccentric photo shoot of Washburn and the Sparrow quartet, which graces the cover.

If bluegrass, no matter how reinvented, is not your thing, there is some welcome blues coverage in No. 76 as well. There are profiles of the truly youthful Homemade Jamz Blues Band and Gary Clark, Jr., the breakout star of John Sayles’s The Honeydripper. There is also a fairly lukewarm review of Two Men with the Blues, the collaboration between Willie Nelson and Wynton Marsalis. While praising some tunes, Rich Kienzle sums up the release writing: “it brings forth nothing new or revolutionary, nor was it meant to.” (p. 142)

It is great to see ND continue covering artists that magazines like Entertainment Weekly and Rolling Stone will not bother with, in any format. It also represents a potentially interesting publishing development, blurring formats as its artists blur genres. It should be interesting to follow as they calibrate their future contributions to fit the new format.

Christmas in New Orleans: St. Louis Cathedral & Preservation Hall

They love their Christmas music in New Orleans. During the season, you can hear it at some the Crescent City’s most hallowed spaces, including St. Louis Cathedral and the slightly less imposing Preservation Hall.

Originally completed in 1727 and rebuilt in 1794, the Cathedral-Basilica of St. Louis, King of France might be the most recognizable building in New Orleans, rising over Jackson Square on the banks of the Mississippi. It is also where hip New Orleanians go for Christmas concerts based on Monday night’s turn out for the diverse trio of Theresa Andersson, John Fohl, and David Doucet. Originally hailing from Sweden, Andersson fell in with the city’s legendary R&B scene, while maintaining a rootsy acoustic sound on the fiddle. Fohl is a regular member of one of New Orleans top local organ trios, as well as a sideman in Dr. John’s band. Doucet is a respected standard bearer of the Cajun musical tradition. Together their Christmas concerts at the Cathedral have become something of a tradition for them, even resulting in a CD of their Christmas music.

Andersson has a lovely voice, nicely featured on “Hark the Herald,” but their finest number may have been their instrumental version of “Little Drummer Boy,” displaying their dazzling technique, but not at the expense of feeling. Fitting New Orleans’ history as a port city melting pot, it was a trilingual night, with Andersson performing the German and English lyrics to “Silent Night” and Doucet performing the French carol “Il Est Ne, Le Divin Enfant,” which he learned from the nuns in Catholic school.

Though the décor is meaner, Preservation Hall is certainly sacred ground for those who love traditional New Orleans hot jazz and Dixieland. While the Hall is all about tradition, their Creole Christmas Eve shows are a relatively recent institution, only in their third year. This year, they featured the St. Peter Street Allstars under the direction of Lars Edegran, also a Swedish transplant. Edegran has been leading groups at the Hall for years, usually on piano, but he is also an accomplished banjo and guitar player. With the raspy blues shouter Big Al Carson on vocals and a top notch group of New Orleans style jazz musicians, notably including Freddie Lonzo on trombone and Shannon Powell on drums, they ragged up favorite yuletide carols with old school flair.

Up-tempo pieces like “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” were particularly amenable to their hot style of interpretation, but Carson’s finest vocal may have come on their beautiful rendition of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” Edegran and company also mixed in a couple of tunes from their usual repertoire. In fact, it must have been Christmas, because they concluded the first set with “The Saints,” which ordinarily will set you back a ten-spot if you want to hear it at Preservation Hall.

Music is a way of life in New Orleans, so it naturally figures prominently in their Christmas celebrations. St. Louis holds their special Christmas concerts throughout the month of December, featuring important local artists like Ellis Marsalis and Irvin Mayfield in addition to Anderson, Fohl, and Doucet’s annual concert. Preservation Hall is open year round, but Christmas Eve is the day to hear carols there. Of course, it is not impossible to hear Christmas music there on other days, but it might cost some change. Remember, traditional requests are two dollars, other requests are five, and “The Saints” will set you back a full ten.

Kawalerowicz’s Shadow

Shadow
Directed by Jerzy Kawalerowicz
Polart Films

When a film uses the word “kulak” (rich peasant) in a derogatory way, it is a safe bet it was produced during the Soviet era. Throughout his fifty year career, Jerzy Kawalerowicz ranked as one of Poland’s top directors. He was so well regarded, Kawalerowicz’s career (just barely) survived the fall of Communism, even though he publicly condemned his colleagues Andrzej Wajda and Krzysztof Zanussi when they embraced the Solidarity movement. Though never critical of the Communist system, some of Kawalerowicz’s earlier films, like Shadow (recently released on DVD), offer interesting grist for deconstructive criticism.

As Shadow opens, a man has fallen from a speeding train, mangling his face beyond all hope of recognition. Wearing an overcoat, but no jacket, the mystery man dies on the operating table before he can reveal his identity. The junior officer investigating the case is confident the truth will out, predicting: “Find the shadow, and you’ll find the man.” Dr. Knyszyn (played Zygmunt Kestowicz in the film’s standout performance) is not so sure. As a case study in uncertainty, he relates an incident from 1943, when he was a member of the Polish underground, and naturally a good Communist by virtue of being an anti-Fascist. Somehow, Knyszyn’s cell is manipulated into armed conflict with another loyal cell. Despite the future doctor’s efforts, he never learns the identity of the mastermind behind those deadly machinations.

In an apparent coincidence, a name Knyszyn mentions in passing sparks another story from Captain Karpowski, the senior officer in charge of the investigation. He relates an incident from his military service in 1946, fighting armed bandits sheltered by the deceitful kulaks. Karpowski and a comrade infiltrate a gang of brigands led by the mysterious “Dwarf,” but again, the operation is nearly sabotaged by a mysterious betrayal.

As suspicions mount regarding the unknown train passenger, police at the next station apprehend a man with the dead man’s jacket. Under a little sweating his confesses his story, involving an incident of industrial sabotage earlier that day.

With a title like Shadow, one would expect some dramatic black-and-white cinematography. If not on the level of The Third Man, cinematographer Jerzy Lipman’s work does indeed have an appealing film noir look, particularly in Knyszyn’s story. The film has the right film noir feel, as well. Despite its scrupulously correct political content, there is an aura of paranoia that pervades each flashback. Duplicity is expected, but never explained. Agent provocateurs sabotage and destroy simply out of an evil counter-revolutionary impulse.

Though often compared to Roshomon, Shadow is more closely akin to Jean-Pierre Melville’s Army of Darkness, both thematically and stylistically. Its vision of mystery and betrayal remains compelling, despite the ideology it accepts.

Waltz with Bashir

War is Hell, so the movies tell us. There have been some truly great anti-war films, but the best are universal in their themes, and not inextricably tied to the circumstances of a particular conflict. This is why Kubrick’s Paths of Glory is a great film and the recent anti-war films have been, without exception, dismal failures. Opening Christmas Day in Los Angeles (and New York the day after), Ari Folman’s Waltz with Bashir (trailer here) starts out as a potentially great anti-war film, but bogs down in the politics of its conflict: the 1982 Israeli military incursion into Lebanon.

Billed as an animated documentary, Bashir chronicles writer-director-producer Ari Folman’s efforts to awaken suppressed memories from his military service in Lebanon. Much of what he has forgotten involves the deaths at the Sabra and Shatila Palestinian refugee camps. In retribution for the assassination of Bashir Gemayel, the Lebanese president-elect, Christian militia attacked the camps. Initially looking for PLO terrorists who had indeed been harbored there, events quickly deteriorated into bloodshed. While not directly involved, we are told the Israeli military is thought to have had a pretty good idea of what was happening as it went down. In Bashir, Folman and his comrades are still trying to mentally and emotionally process these events.

Out of the recent glut of anti-war films (broadly defined), Bashir might actually be the best. Admittedly, the bar has been set pretty low, but Folman and director of animation Yoni Goodman have created some striking visuals. The opening sequences involving the dogs that haunt a fellow Beirut veteran’s dreams are powerful stuff, forming a most compelling portrayal of the dehumanization of war. As he explains to the director, he knows exactly how many of the savage canines are chasing him, because he vividly remembers killing each and every one as part of a reconnaissance mission. Folman also gets surprising mileage from structuring the story as a psychological investigation. Indeed, the process of ferreting out Folman’s repressed memories makes consistently intriguing drama.

Unfortunately, the more political Bashir gets, the more it looses its way. We see scenes implicating the late Ariel Sharon, which should be considered controversial rather than gospel. Of course, we are shown the Sabra and Shatila massacres in graphic detail, including the only non-animated archival news footage included in the film. What we do not see is the Gemayel assassination or the constant bombardments and terrorist attacks the PLO staged from Lebanon, which precipitated 1982 invasion in the first place. These are only perfunctorily referenced through dialogue.

Bashir has been well received in Israel, where it recently won their equivalent of the Academy Award for best picture, automatically making it their official selection for the Academy’s best foreign language film. Its Oscar campaign should be interesting to watch, given recent history. Last year, France unsuccessfully submitted the animated Persepolis for best foreign language picture, but it did snag a best animated nomination. Israel’s original best foreign language selection, The Band’s Visit, was disqualified for having too much English content, but its replacement, Beaufort, another revisionist Beirut drama, beat out Persepolis and other highly touted releases for a foreign language nomination.

Though technically well made, Bashir lacks the heart of either Band or Persepolis, but its knee-jerk criticism of the Israeli military may well find an appreciative audience at the Academy. While Bashir’s animation is often striking, ultimately the film suffers for prioritizing its lopsided political content above character development. It opens Christmas Day in Los Angeles and on Friday here in New York at the Sunshine Theater.

NOLA Christmas: Aaron Neville at the House of Blues

On a downright chilly Sunday in New Orleans, an ode to winter like “Let it Snow” did not sound so out of place in the House of Blues. Of course, it was Aaron Neville singing, concluding his recent holiday tour. On home turf, he could have sold the adoring crowd any song, but he chose a repertoire largely drawn from Bring It On Home, his recent collection of soul standards, some holiday favorites from his two Christmas albums, and a few of his greatest hits.

Appearing years younger than a man who scored a number one hit in 1967, Neville’s expressive voice, often approaching falsetto range, is well suited to soul classics like “Stand By Me,” “A Change is Gonna Come,” and “Ain’t No Sunshine.” They were songs specially chosen to express the pain and yearning in the aftermath of Katrina. Neville actually supported the CD with an appearance on the Young & the Restless soap opera. Watching the clip on youtube, the best acting clearly comes from Neville when he tells the characters how “proud” he is to appear at their club. His “Stand By Me” was a killer though, at the HOB last night and even on Y&R.

As for the Christmas carols, Neville performed enjoyable enough versions of “White Christmas” and “Let it Snow,” but it was the more soulful fare that was truly in his power zone. Neville’s “O Holy Night” is probably the best you will hear from a vocalist who does not come from an operatic background and his performance of the original “Christmas Prayer” was tender and heartfelt. Though not a Christmas song per se, Neville’s rendition of “Amazing Grace” (included in his encore medley) also hushed the hitherto ruckus HOB crowd.

Backing Neville was a quintet featuring his brother Charles on tenor and alto sax, accounting for half the musical Neville Brothers on the HOB stage. The Neville reedman had a few solo features of his own, including a very jazzy “Besame Mucho.” He has the jazz chops, having recorded his own solo project and appeared on progressive jazz sessions produced by Kip Hanrahan.

Of course, the leader also sang “Tell It Like It Is,” near the end of the night. While Neville has surely performed it thousands of times, he still brings a warm rich sound to his number one hit. Neville has a powerful presence in live performance and his mix of Christmas and R&B is a winning combination, particularly in front of the more-or-less hometown crowd. As a result, there was definitely some real holiday spirit going on in HOB last night.