Oxford ’19: Body and Soul—An American Bridge

His name holds little recognition these days, even among serious jazz listeners, but Johnny Green won five Oscars for his film music and co-wrote several standards, including “I Cover the Waterfront” and “Out of Nowhere.” Yet, his best-known work is even more ubiquitous among jazz musicians’ repertoires. Robert Philipson chronicles the history and legacy of the beloved standard in the mid-length hour-long documentary, Body and Soul: An American Bridge (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Oxford Film Festival.

Green original co-wrote “Body and Soul” with lyricists Edward Heyman and Robert Sour for British musical theater performer Gertrude Lawrence, but it soon became a jazz standard. Naturally, one of the first classic renditions came from Louis Armstrong, who really did everything in jazz first. There was also a historically significant recording by the racially-integrated Benny Goodman Trio, featuring the great Teddy Wilson on piano. However, Coleman Hawkins’ legendary recording of “Body and Soul,” which most jazz historians consider the transitional link between swing and bebop is only mentioned in passing. Frankly, that is beyond bizarre, because we were eagerly anticipating a long discussion of Hawk (it isn’t perfect, but Ken Burns’ Jazz gets this right).

Still, Philipson deserves credit for giving Benny Goodman credit for sticking his neck out to lead his racially integrated trio (which became a quartet when he added Lionel Hampton on vibes). It is fashionable to mock Goodman for his legendary penny-pinching and the withering glare, dubbed “the ray,” he leveled at bandmembers who displeased him, but he took a risk and became an agent of progressive change in this country.

Instead of a bridge between swing and bebop, Philipson positions “Body and Soul” as a bridge between Jewish and African American musicians. He certainly has a strong case to make, but “Body and Soul” is hardly unique in this respect. After all, George Gershwin composed Porgy and Bess and Irving Berlin penned standards like “How Deep is the Ocean.” There are plenty of songs that could represent that sort of connection, but it almost always happens through jazz.

Regardless, any film that discusses Louis Armstrong, Benny Goodman, and Teddy Wilson at length is totally worth seeing. The best-known musicians Philipson interviews on-camera are probably NEA Jazz Master bassist Richard Davis and Loren Schoenburg, director of the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, who certainly know their stuff, but like it or not, no Marsalises this time around. Recommended for fans of pre-modern (swing, New Orleans) jazz, Body and Soul: An American Bridge screens this Sunday (2/10) as part of the 2019 Oxford Film Festival.

Amityville Murders: The Original Suffolk County Horror

This is the kind of notorious history real estate agents are supposed to disclose. We’re at 112 Ocean Avenue, one of the most notorious addresses in America, but it is before the Lutzes, who came before James Brolin and Margot Kidder. The evil started with the DeFeo family murders, which are dramatized for the first time—entirely exploitatively—in Daniel Farrands’ The Amityville Murders (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles.

The notorious DeFeo murders really did happen, but probably not the way they are depicted here. Regardless, this would be “film zero” in the Amityville chronology, but Murders is clearly not part of the increasingly loose franchise of sequels, reboots, and whatever you might call Amityville: The Awakening. Previously the stuff of prologues, the DeFeo family takes center stage as Ronald “Butch” DeFeo Jr. precipitously descends into madness. Arguably, it is all his own fault—and that of his sister Dawn. They decided they wanted to fool around summoning a spirit. Now they can’t get rid of it.

Frankly, the DeFeo family is a nightmare even before they open the portal to Hell or whatever. Ronnie DeFeo Sr. is abusive towards his long-suffering wife, his teen daughter Dawn, and old Butch. He also appears to be engaged in some sort of shady mob business. Plus, he is a Nixon supporter (serious, can’t they give Tricky Dick a break?).

At least Sr. doesn’t bother the young ones too much. Usually, Dawn can also up-manage him relatively well, unless he thinks she is acting trampy. Unfortunately, the hippyish Butch is practically asking for it. The mysterious black car surveilling their house does not help his disposition either, but it is just massive loose end that goes conspicuously unresolved.

Arguably, Amityville Murders is fundamentally ill-conceived, because it climaxes with an utterly horrible murder-spree. There is precious little fun to be found in this film and even less suspense, thanks to the opening sequence featuring the fateful 9-1-1 call.

The hard truth is Eric Walter’s documentary My Amityville Horror is still the best Amityville movie, but Amityville Murders isn’t even in the running. Supernatural tom-foolery is implied, but most of what Farrands shows is just terrible parenting.

Paul Ben-Victor is suitably ferocious and rodent-like as Ronald Senior. He is a rather unsavory character, but that doesn’t mean his complaints aren’t valid. Alas, Lainie Kazan and Burt Young are largely wasted as Ronald Sr’s in-laws. However, John Robinson is so sweaty and twitchy as Butch Jr., he might as well be wearing a “murder-suicide” t-shirt.

The overriding problem with 'Mitty Murders is not its predictability, but it’s the plodding pacing. This is a hard slog. That’s not exactly what you typically look for in a lurid “based-on-a-true-story” cash-in. Not recommended, Amityville Murders opens tomorrow (2/8) in LA, at the Arena CineLounge.

Sundanc '19: Relive--at Criminal Element

It might just be Blumhouse that truly breaks out David Oyelowo as a box-office-opening movie-star. Exclusive Criminal Element Sundance review of Relive now up here.

Slamdance ’19: Ski Bum—The Warren Miller Story

If Warren Miller were still alive, he probably would have blown off the debut of the documentary chronicling his life and career to hit the Park City slopes instead. When it came to the sport of skiing, he was the preeminent filmmaker, but he was also a four-walling pioneer. He built his annual ski movie road show into a tradition for hundreds of thousands of fans and served as an outreach evangelist for the sport in its early years. Patrick Creadon surveys his peaks and valleys in Ski Bum: The Warren Miller Story, which won the Best of Breakouts Audience Award at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

After an unhappy childhood and a brief stint in the Navy, Miller was ready for a life of adventure sans responsibility. He found it as a veritable ski bum. Although he was a complete beginner, his enthusiasm quickly propelled him into ski instructor positions. He started recording feats on the slope as an amateur videographer, quickly deciding to turn pro. Thus, was born Warren Miller Entertainment, which released its first film in 1949.

With one disastrous exception, Miller followed an event-driven four-walling model. Although he filmed professionals, has laidback narration made him the star of his films for scores of fans. Warren Miller films were an influence on Bruce Brown’s classic surfing doc, The Endless Summer and arguably supplied the foundation for the rise of extreme sports, but it was not always a bed of roses for Miller. In fact, his personal life was often a source of bitter disappointment.

It is about time Miller got his due. Fortunately, Creadon (probably best known for I.O.U.S.A., which incidentally makes us wonder what his thoughts might be regarding the explosion of our national debt over the past ten years) managed to record an extensive series of sit-downs with Miller prior to his death last year. He is a constant presence in the documentary, offering commentary on every development in his life-story. His candor is also quite notable—Miller never ducks anything, no matter how painful—and there are incidents that must still smart, such as the revelation his mother and sister were embezzling from him.

Frankly, Miller emerges as a highly sympathetic figure precisely because he owns up to the mistakes he made. Creadon also incorporates plenty of clips of the spectacular skiing that was a hallmark of Miller’s films (including some never seen before), but his real concern is Miller’s cultural influence. This is not a clips package. If you want to watch someone face-plowing down an exotic mountain, go see a Warren Miller film.

Miller’s work still holds up, but his life is probably even more compelling. Creadon’s profile should foster a solid appreciation of both among viewers, even those who have little or no experience with winter sports. Recommended for fans and anyone interested in early independent filmmaking, Ski Bum: The Warren Miller should have a long festival life, especially in mountainous states, following its award-winning premiere at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot

Calvin Barr is the personification of the Greatest Generation. He already did his part during WWII and now he might just save Canada. Apparently, there really is a Bigfoot, who is spreading a doomsday virus across the great white north. Obviously, this is a job for the titular hero of Robert D. Krzykowski’s The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Barr is now old and disillusioned, but when he was young, he was a hardworking, patriotic American. He was also deeply smitten with Maxine, the great love of his life, but alas, it was not to be. There were separated first by the war and then by her untimely death. Most frustratingly, Barr was even denied the solace of her correspondence, due to the sensitive nature of his service. The mild-mannered Barr excelled at behind-the-lines work, so was entrusted with the most hush-hush top-secret mission of the war: killing Hitler.

In the somewhat present day, Barr is sick of killing and still heartsick over the loss of Maxine. He mostly haunts a barstool, but he still finds time for Ed, his ever-loyal little brother. When “Flag Pin,” a shadowy Fed and his Canadian counterpart come asking for his help, Barr initially turns them down flat, but he eventually agrees. After all, he is still part of the Greatest Generation—and his nation needs him.

TMWKHATTB sounds like lunacy, but it is surprisingly poignant. Instead of an Inglorious Basterds romp, this is an elegiac ode to an action hero’s fading glory. Arguably, Elliott’s Barr belongs in the company of Michael Caine in Harry Brown, Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino, Ron Perlman in Asher, and Jackie Chan in The Foreigner.

In a more just world, Sam Elliott would be nominated for this film, rather than A Star is Born (which is a remake of a remake of a remake of a film from 1937). Barr is cut from similar cloth as Lee Hayden, his character in The Hero, but the aging commando is an even more poignant and messily human figure. As Barr, every one of Elliott’s wrinkles tells a story.

Aidan Turner does not have the same kind of presence as the younger Barr in his Hitler-killing scenes, but he develops some nice chemistry with Caitlin FitzGerald, who is quite touching as Maxine. Weirdly, their sweet, ill-fated romance is one of the best things going for the film. However, it is Larry Miller who really brings it home as the devoted Ed. Who knew he had such a sensitive performance in him, especially in such an unlikely genre film?

Oddly, killing Hitler is the least interesting part of The Man Who. Of course, it is physically and constitutionally impossible for Elliott to be uninteresting. Krzykowski short-changes viewers several obvious and necessary payoff scenes, but his characterization is quite strong. Recommended for fans of more sophisticated action-adventure movies, The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot opens this Friday (2/8) in New York, at the Village East.

Sundance ’19: Count Your Curses & End (shorts)

In one of the shorts that screened at this year’s Sundance, average people take their encounters with the supernatural in stride. In another, not so much. Usually, such incidents are extraordinary, but they are common place in Lorène Yavo’s wickedly droll animated short, Count Your Curses, which screened during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Rather ominously, Sophie wakes to find their house spirit has been mauled to death it again. It is not just a pet. It is supposed to protect her and her roommate Charles from the ghosts and mythological beasts haunting the nearby field. They try to buy a new house spirit from the spirit store, but the proprietor refuses to sell to them anymore. Instead, he refers them to a sorceress, who might be able to diagnose the supernatural phenomenon at work.

Curses somewhat resembles the MTV show Daria, in terms of its blocky visual style and deadpan humor. Yavo’s dialogue is quite amusing, in a drily arch way. Plus, there is also humor in the characters’ blasé acceptance of some outlandish situations.

On the other hand, there is nothing funny about Yimit Ramírez’s End. The bad news is Juan is dead. He will get the chance to relive an episode from his life, but it turns out this is not good news either. The personification of death gets to chose when and it opts for the worst moment of his life. He does not handle the experience well.

End is a remarkably dark film with some real bite, but the budget constraints show in the scenes of the void of purgatory. Nevertheless, it is nice just to know Ramírez was able to complete this film, considering his past film reportedly ran afoul of the Cuban censors. His feature I Want to Make a Movie did not even criticize the royal Castro family. Instead, one character of dubious credibility goes off on José Martí, who has been dead for over one-hundred twenty years.

Both Count Your Curses and End are clearly the work of talented filmmakers, who must have some distinctive films ahead of them. Curses is the sort of highly rewatchable film that could go viral if it were a Vimeo Staff pick. Sadly, Ramírez will also have to navigate politics and bureaucracy (indeed, it is difficult to resist reading allegorical meanings into the Hellish vision of the afterlife presented in End). Each film is recommended for festival programmers, following their screenings at this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

FCS ’19: Flight of a Bullet

You can’t see this film in Russia. Putin’s thugs won’t let you. They stormed the stage to prevent its screening at Artdocfest. Ironically, they took issue with filmmaker Beata Bubenec’s portrayal of the pro-Ukrainian Aidar militia, even though most rational people would consider its political implications to be decidedly mixed. It is also hard to accuse her of selective editing, since the film consists of one single continuous take. Viewers can judge for themselves when Bubenec’s Flight of a Bullet screens during this year’s Film Comment Selects.

Aidar has a reputation, fairly or not, for unjustly detaining suspected Russian separatist supporters, which basically happens within the first ten minutes of the film. While surveying the damage done to a bridge, a surly bystander starts heckling Bubenec’s escort, so he places him under “arrest.” That definitely happens, but aside from the inconvenience, nothing particularly terrible happens to the wise-cracker. In fact, he offers Aidar unsolicited intel on the separatists stationed in his village (whether it is legit or not, who can say?).

Frankly, the film should end right there. Instead, the Flight continues rather aimlessly from there. Bubenec deflects some rather course advances from some of the Aidar members, while fixing snacks and just generally hanging out with her subjects. It is not great cinema, especially compared to the first half.

You could also question Bubenec’s judgement as a documentarian, but the Russian-loyalist, anti-Ukrainian thugs basically bail her out. Thanks to their violent attack, which included some sort of noxious pepper spray (or worse), Flight is now an important document that has significance beyond itself. Ironically, they also do Aidar a solid. While their extralegal detention would be problematic, it now appears completely benign compared to the violence exercised by the Separatist mob (reportedly Russian Liberation Movement South East Radical Bloc, SERB, a criminal separatist group granted sanctuary by Putin). Thanks to SERB, Aidar looks moderate and responsible.

There is some worthy boots-on-the-ground reporting in Flight that cuts both ways (or at least it would in a more logical world). The continuous unedited take lends confidence to the film’s veracity, but it goes on too long. It would have been more interesting to follow-up with the detainee and the information he volunteered to his interrogators than listening in on the Aidar fighter arguing with his girlfriend over the phone. It is interesting, but highly imperfect. Recommended on principle, just because Putin’s knuckle-dragging puppets don’t want us to see it, Flight of a Bullet screens this Thursday (2/7), as part of the 2019 Film Comment Selects.

Sundance '19: The Inventor--at Criminal Element

Good news, Alex Gibney's latest documentary-of-the-week is one of his best. Exclusive Criminal Element review of The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley, which screened at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival, is now up here.

Slamdance ’19: Demolition Girl

It is good for high school kids to have jobs, because the employment experience teaches responsibility. Cocoa already happens to be plenty responsible, unlike her deadbeat father and even worse deadbeat brother. Unfortunately, her choice of employment will lead to trouble and scandal in Genta Matsugami’s Demolition Girl, which screened during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

It wasn’t Cocoa’s idea, but an old friend of her brother convinced her to appear in his foot-crushing fetish videos. Right, we’re talking about women’s feet stomping on things. She really doesn’t get it either, but the money is good and the work doesn’t take long. Those are both important factors, ever since she decided to take a shot at the national university entrance exams. She should be smart enough to pass, if she could study as much as her friends, but paying tuition and expenses will be another matter entirely. Of course, her lazy father and parasitical brother still expect to live off her.

Cocoa’s upbeat resiliency is quite appealing, but viewers will rightly suspect her method for earning quick money is not sustainable. When the shoes start to drop (so to speak), the film takes a decidedly dark turn. She can justly blame her brother’s friend, who unwisely started selling his videos through a gang of sleazy underworld thugs, but he really isn’t a bad guy. On the other hand, her brother is truly pond scum.

Aya Kitai was quite deservedly recognized with an Honorable Mention for the Slamdance Acting Award, because her performance will make your heart ache for Cocoa. We feel for her acutely, yet the remarkable thing about her portrayal specifically and Matsugami’s film in general is how uplifting it is, despite all the rotten things that happen. Somehow, her indomitable spirit lifts our own. She also forges believably grounded but very different kinds of rapport with her besties and the aspiring fetish filmmaker.

Matsugami’s DIY-style aptly suits the drabness of Cocoa’s depressed provincial town and the mean circumstances of her life. Everything in his film feels really real. Yet, Kitai lights up the digital screen. After watching Demolition, we sincerely hope Matsugami continues to tell Cocoa’s story, returning to her every so often, like François Truffaut did with his Antoine Doinel films. Yes, I’m dropping Truffaut’s name in a review of Demolition—honestly, Cocoa might just be even more emotionally engaging (even though Truffaut’s artistry was admittedly greater). Very highly recommended, Demolition Girl had its world premiere at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: Sister (short)

If you have a solid grounding in recent history and global politics, you should be able to guess the devastating twist that comes at the end of this stop-motion animated short film. A grown man looks back on his childhood, growing up with the little sister who was born four years after him in China, during the early 1990s. If you don’t get it by now, you certainly will be the end of Siqi Song’s beautifully rendered Sister, which screened during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

It is only eight minutes long, but it packs quite an emotional wallop. There is no question Sister is a highly personal statement from the Chinese-born, Los Angeles-based Song, who is credited as director, producer, screenwriter, animator, cinematographer, editor, and art director. Still, she did not do it alone. Her collaborators include Bingyang Liu, who performed the sensitive voice-over narration and Karen Tanaka, who composed the classy score.

As the film opens, the narrator fondly remembers his bratty little sister, who often brought their parents wrath down on him with her own mischief. Yet, something seems a little off with this picture. Eventually, all will be revealed—and it will be a painful revelation—even for viewers who were expected it. (As a final hint, Nanfu Wang’s documentary at this year’s Sundance also addresses the same topic.)

Ultimately, Sister does indeed indict the Chinese government’s recent policies, but it is still essentially a deeply humanistic family drama. Song’s animation is quite skillful and her visuals are sometimes surprisingly fanciful, but that does not dilute the power of her message. Very highly recommended, Sister screened during this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: Paradise Hills

It is a dystopian finishing school, where they finish the heck out of difficult young women. Sure, it is creepy, but at least the amenities are super-luxurious and the views are postcard-worthy. Uma, the cash-poor heiress refuses to be seduced by such trappings in Alice Waddington’s Paradise Hills, which premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Uma is the picture of a perfectly subservient bride, but she was not always like this. Cue flashback. Initially, she had no intention of marrying her slimy groom, because she rather resented the role Son played in her father’s economic ruin and subsequent suicide. Her mercenary mother is all for the match, but Uma rather crassly still carries a grudge.

It will be the job of Paradise Hills, under the direction of the regal Duchess, to mold her into a more reasonable young woman. She is not there by choice and she cannot leave of her own accord. However, she makes fast friends with her roommates. Yu is a former prole, who must learn to behave in a manner befitting the upper class now that she has been sent to live with her Beijing relatives. Chloe has been shipped away to shed the pounds her family finds so undesirable.

Probably the hardest case currently in residence at Paradise Hills (technically an island, perhaps in the Mediterranean) would be Amarna, a pop starlet, who wants to chart a more Melissa Etheridge course for her career (and private life), much to the horror of her management. There is definitely an ambiguous something going on between her and Uma, until Amarna is suddenly discharged and acting like a bubblegum idol in the media.

The art direction and frilly costuming of Paradise are to die for, but it blends fantasy and science fiction in ways that do not conform to any consistent internal system of logic. Frankly, it is a bit surprising the screenplay was co-written by mad genre master Nacho Vigalondo (along with Brian DeLeeuw, writer of Curvature and Some Kind of Hate), because it really looks like the film started with its feminist message and built its narrative structure out from there.

Emma Roberts is so dull and vanilla as Uma, it is hard to fathom why the villainous Son would be so preoccupied with her. In contrast, Eiza Gonzalez smirks and smolders with electric intensity as Amarna and Mila Jovovich chews the scenery with devilish delight as the ab fab Duchess. Danielle Macdonald has some poignant moments as Chloe, but Awkwafina never really elevates compulsively earphone-wearing Yu above stock character levels. Of course, all the guys in Hills are either pigs or dogs.

Waddington is a gifted stylist, whose ultra-chic, darkly sinister short film Disco Inferno played at Slamdance in 2016 (proving the cross-pollination between the two fests). Josu Inchaustegui’s cinematography perfectly evokes a fantastical vibe, filtered through a high-end fashion magazine layout. It is the sort of film we want to admire, but it never fully lands. Still, it proves Waddington still has loads of potential to make distinctive genre films. Sort of half-recommended, Paradise Hills is certain to have a robust life on the festival circuit, following its premiere at this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance '19: Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile--at Criminal Element

Zac Efron is surprisingly good as Ted Bundy, but the film will really make people all kinds of uncomfortable. Exclusive 2019 Sundance Film Festival review of Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile now up at Criminal Element here.

Slamdance ’19: The Vast of Night

It really was a weather balloon. If you doubt it, check out the articles in The Skeptical Inquiry debunking the Roswell UFO myth. It is a good story, but it is just a story. Nevertheless, the need to believe has made New Mexico ground zero for the flying saucer faithful. Apart from the Roswell rumor-mongering, New Mexico’s wide-open deserts and low population density make fictional Cayuga, NM a suitable location for paranormal goings-on in Andrew Patterson’s The Vast of Night, the plucky microbudget winner of the Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Vast of Night is ostensibly an episode of a 1950s science fiction anthology show called Paradox Theater that we start watching on a vintage black-and-white vacuum tube television, before the picture morphs into the evocatively washed out color of the characters’ world. Everett is a cocky high school student who works part-time for the local AM radio station. Everyone in town probably assumes he and Fay will eventually become a couple, but for now, they just bicker too much. Tonight, he is happily helping her get the hang of the new portable tape recorder she just ordered from Montgomery Ward.

Nearly everyone in town will be at the big high school basketball game, but he will be on the air at WOTW and she will be covering the town’s telephone switchboard. When reports of strange lights in the sky start to come in, the ambiguous couple will be able to coordinate their efforts to investigate. It turns out, something downright Roswellian might be afoot, based on claims of “Billy,” a former US Air Force officer, who calls into Everett’s show.

Frankly, it is shocking how well put together Vast is, especially given its extreme budget constraints. It is definitely one of the best looking, smartest written X-Files-esque films in decades. Patterson and cinematographer Miguel Ioann Littin Menz give it an intimate vibe with their claustrophobic long takes, but they also capture a sense of the lonely emptiness of the small town when their restless camera pans from one location to another during transitional scenes. Strange Invaders, the cult favorite from 1983, would be a logical comparison title, in terms of themes and vibe, but Vast is a far superior film.

The period details and visual effects are definitely impressive, but the chemistry between Sierra McCormick and Jake Horowitz, as Fay and Everett, respectively, is what really elevates Vast. They are terrific together and they both absolutely knock out of the park screenwriters James Montague & Craig W. Sanger’s long, knotty passages of dialogue. They also get first class support from the rest of the ensemble, including the pitch-perfect heard-but-not-seen Bruce Davis as Billy and Gail Cronauer, who holds viewers absolutely rapt as Mabel Blanche, another eye witness of sorts.

Vast of Night is a film you really should see in a darkened theater, because it would be a shame to let the distractions of mundane life break the spell Patterson and his actors cast over the audience. Granted, the story itself is hardly groundbreaking, but Patterson’s mastery of mood, the palpable sense of place, and the work of his two co-leads are really quite special. Very highly recommended, The Vast of Night should have a long life ahead of it with genre film fans, after winning the Audience Award at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

Slamdance ’19: Roughly Delicate (short)

They could be characters in an Amy Tan novel, but with firearms. A group of Chinese immigrant women perform together in a traditional dance troupe and shoot together in their gun club. As a group, they develop camaraderie, physical coordination, a steady aim, and a sense of empowerment in Heqiuzi Wang’s fourteen-minute short documentary, Roughly Delicate, which screened during the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

They are of various ages, but they are all Chinese immigrants. Their participation in the dance group conforms to our stereotypes, but their shooting outings probably do not. They obviously enjoy their time at the indoor range, because it is a bonding experience. However, there is also a serious side to it, as well.

During the course of the short film, it becomes clear two events have dramatically shaped their relationship to guns. One was the LA Riots, in which Korean grocers lost their stores to the fires, but largely protected life and limb because they were sufficiently armed. The other event was the Tiananmen Square massacre, which demonstrated the worst-case scenario when the state holds monopoly ownership of firearms.

Of course, with rights come responsibilities, so the Roughly Delicate women duly attend firearm training courses. Yet, ironically, the leader of their dance ensemble appears to be a much more demanding disciplinarian. Regardless, the shooting dancers are all very charming in a down-to-earth way and for the most part, seem quite happy here in America. Honestly, the NRA should recruit them as spokespeople—ASAP.

Wang takes a quiet, observational approach, yet Roughly Delicate dramatically upends clichés, while celebrating diversity. There are some important takeaways in her film, but it is also quite a pleasant experience to spend time her subjects. Very highly recommended, Roughly Delicate should be programmed by many free-thinking film fests, following its screenings at the 2019 Slamdance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: Late Night

Let’s face it, late night talk show hosts are much more entertaining when they are mired in rivalries and scandal (as in Letterman vs. Leno and Leno vs. Team Coco). After years of hosting her show on auto-pilot, Katherine Newbury is about to become interesting again—maybe too interesting. The show may not necessarily go on in Nisha Ganatra’s Late Night, which premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Apparently, Newbury’s show debuted in the early 1990s, which would make her the second woman to host a national late night talk show, after Joan Rivers, but screenwriter Mindy Kaling gives Newbury credit as the first. In recent years, Newbury has been content to lob softball questions to guests she admires, like Sen. Diane Feinstein. Big surprise, ratings are down.

Viewership has fallen to such a low level, the new network president is ready to replace Newbury with someone younger and more popular. However, Newbury might just put up a fight, but first she has her long-suffering producer hire a woman writer to defuse some negative press. Molly Patel is the only applicant who fits the bill, so the underdog chemical plant employee gets the gig. It will be highly debatable whether this constitutes good or bad luck for Patel, but at least she will spur her prickly boss to start addressing more political topics, because most Americans’ idea of fun is a political lecture from someone who think they are more virtuous than they are. Regardless, Newbury’s ratings rebound, until a personal scandal threatens to end her career.

A lot of the behind-the-scenes chaos in Late Night is amusing, but the film is little more than an extended episode of Murphy Brown. Emma Thompson scores some big laughs as the witheringly acerbic, borderline-abusive talk show host, but she never looks comfortable in her stand-up scenes. That might sound like a minor quibble, but it makes it difficult to believe her character could reach this position in the first place.

Probably, the sharpest, most consistently funny performance comes from Denis O’Hare as Newbury’s long-suffering producer. Kaling is relatively likable as Patel, at least when she is not giving us lectures on social issues. By far, her best scenes involve her evolving relationships with Newbury show staffers, including O’Hare, Max Casella, and Paul Walter Hauser. However, the best performance comes from John Lithgow, who is achingly dignified as Newbury’s ailing husband, an NYU professor emeritus.

There is really nothing in Late Night you haven’t seen before, but Amazon paid $13 million for it anyway. Perhaps they intend to turn it into a sitcom, which is really the level Kaling is pitching her material. Mostly harmless but sometimes insufferably smug, Late Night is wildly overrated. Just an okay time-killer, Late Night screens again tonight (2/3) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Slamdance '19: Lost Holiday--Criminal Element

It's time to visit Slamdance with a couple of trouble-making out-of-town New Yorkers. Exclusive Criminal Element review of Lost Holiday is now up here.

Sundance ’19: The Lodge

Step-parenting is always a tricky proposition, but it is especially so for Grace. As the sole survivor of a suicidal death cult, she has sort of already lost one “family.” Her prospective stepson and stepdaughter are less than thrilled to welcome her into their family. It is hard to form a conclusive judge about them or her in Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala’s The Lodge, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Grace’s father was the charismatic leader of an apocalyptic Christian cult that committed mass-suicide Hale-Bopp-style. She was left behind to tell their tale, like the characters left standing at the end of Shakespeare’s tragedies. Should that make us trust her more or less?

Regardless, Richard fell for her hard while writing a retrospective piece on the cult. Aidan and Mia were already seriously unhappy with his decision to take up with Grace, but when their mother Laura is suddenly ushered out of the movie, Grace becomes the focus of their hard feelings. Hoping to bring peace to their awkward family unit, Richard books a getaway vacation at an isolated mountain lodge. Right, what could go wrong—aside from Richard getting called back to work just before a severe storm cuts off Grace and the two resentful children from the outside world?

Maybe Grace is a victim in all this, or maybe not, but either way, her cult backstory is massively creepy. Franz & Fiala frequently return to images of the mass suicide, which are especially disturbing, because they deliberately emulate news footage of the Heaven’s Gate cult. It is arguably exploitative, but undeniably effective.

In fact, The Lodge is consistently unsettling because of its uncertainties, starting first and foremost with the true nature of Grace’s character. Riley Keough’s subtle, ambiguous performance gives viewer plenty to support any interpretation. Likewise, as Aidan and Mia, Jaeden Lieberher and Lia McHugh make two of the most suspicious and intense kids to appear on film since the off-the-rails twins in Franz & Fiala’s Goodnight Mother.

If you want to get technical, there are probably some serious logical issues within The Lodge, but Franz & Fiala’s command of mood and atmosphere is so strong, we don’t even notice in the moment. The chills are further heightened by Thimios Bakatakis’s appropriately icy cinematography. However, the recurring use of a dollhouse motif is probably a mistake, because it automatically brings to mind comparisons to Ari Aster’s Hereditary. Recommended for fans of high-end horror, The Lodge screens again today (2/2), as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: The Witch Hunters

Milica is not necessarily wrong to suspect her father’s new girlfriend Svetlana is a witch, because the strange woman’s apartment is filled with all sorts of weird New Age organic remedies that can’t possibly work according to science. She has enlisted her school friend Jovan the dispel the witch’s mojo, but at least they don’t intend to burn her at the stake in Rasko Milijkovic’s The Witch Hunters, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Jovan is shy and standoffish in school, because he is insecure about his physical condition. However, Milica, the brash new girl, looks past all that. At first, Jovan is aghast when she starts inviting herself over, but he eventually starts to appreciate her tomboy attitude and self-assurance. Soon, Milica confides in Jovan she suspects Svetlana has cast an enchantment on her hapless father. It turns out, a video-game playing expert on all things super-hero like Jovan is just the ally she needs to take on Svetlana, assuming he can work up the confidence to take the bus by himself to carry out phases of their mission.

Frankly, the key-art for Witch Hunter looks much more genre than the film really is. Basically, it uses fantastical elements in much the same way Ian Fitzgibbon’s Death of a Superhero did, but it takes the audience to a far happier place. Marko Manojlovic & Milos Kreckovic’s screenplay is achingly well-intentioned, but it skews considerably younger than a family film like the nifty ghost story, Room 213.

Regardless, Mihajlo Milavic and Silma Mahmuti are enormously sincere and appear quite genuine on-screen as Jovan and Milica, respectively. They have a nice, believable rapport together. Most of the adults a well-meaning dunderheads or cold figures of scorn, but Jelena Jovanova shows some screen presence as Svetlana.

Nice is definitely the word for Witch Hunters, with everything it implies, good and bad. There are some nice messages about inclusion here, but nothing you couldn’t find elsewhere. Mostly pleasant, but certainly not essential, The Witch Hunters screens again today (2/2) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: Abe

If only they had more fusion cuisine at Taba, maybe then there would be peace in the Middle East. Or perhaps not. A thirteen-year-old aspiring chef in Brooklyn tries to bring his mixed Israeli-Palestinian family together with food, but their divisions might be too deep for his culinary efforts to heal, despite some help from Brazil in Fernando Grostein Andrade’s Abe, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Abe prefers “Abe,” but his family calls him Abraham, Avraham, Avi, or Ibrahim, depending on which side is doing the talking. His mother and her parents are Jewish Israeli, his paternal grandparents are Palestinian Muslims, and his father is a “plague on both your houses” atheist. As you might guess, family gatherings are super awkward. Frankly, they bicker so much, they never enjoy Abe’s cooking.

For a thirteen-year-old, Abe is pretty good at the basics (or so he thinks), but he needs a bit of coaching when it comes to more ambitious creations. Chico Catuaba is the chef he has in mind to mentor him. The Bahia native once had his own restaurant, but now sells his unique brand of Brazilian-Jamaican fusion cuisine in his pop-up kitchens throughout Brooklyn. Initially, Catuaba is suspicious of Abe and the potential child labor legal problems he might bring, but the young teen’s sincerity wins him over. However, he will make sure Abe pays his dues first, before giving him real kitchen responsibilities.

Andrade’s film boasts a lithe and lively Brazilian soundtrack, featuring co-star Seu Jorge on two tracks (“Imigrantes” and Veloso’s “Meia Lua Inteira”), Tulipa Ruiz on “Sal E Amor,” and musical supervisor Jaques Morelenbaum’s solo cello arrangements of Jobim’s “Brigas Numcas Mais” and “Samba de Uma Noto So.” It sounds fantastic and the food looks delicious, so it is easy to forgive the formulaic aspects of Lameece Issaq & Jacob Kader’s screenplay. In fact, Andrade executes the culinary coming-of-age tale with a light touch, dialing down the obvious clichés and potentially fraught politics as much as possible. Instead, he focuses on the diverse, likable ensemble of characters.

Noah Schnapp from Stranger Things is appealingly energetic and earnest as Abe. However, the perfectly cast Seu Jorge frequently steals the show as Catuaba. Anyone who has seen him perform knows he has serious charisma and a voice that could take work away from James Earl Jones, but he also wields a kitchen knife with authority. As Abe’s parents, Dagmara Dominczyk and Arian Moayed also convincingly look and sound like a loving couple, whose relationship is under strain and stress. As a bonus, the great character actor Mark Margolis adds some crusty flair as Abe’s Jewish grandfather, Benjamin.

Abe is a very nice little movie with a terrific soundtrack. The notion of refracting the Middle Eastern conflict through the microcosm of a Brooklyn family might sound like a ham-fisted, finger-wagging cinematic lecture, but Andrade mostly makes it work, by not forcing it too hard. Recommended for fans of foodie movies and Seu Jorge, Abe screens again today (2/2) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance '19: Stieg Larsson--The Man Who Played with Fire--on Criminal Element

Exclusive Criminal Element coverage of the 2019 Sundance Film Festival fittingly kicks off with the documentary Stieg Larsson: The Man Who Played with Fire here. It's hybrid-ish and fully stocked with intrigue and paranoia. 

Sundance ’19: Seu Jorge at the ASCAP Music Café

He was Pelé dos Santos, the Bowie singing crew-member in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, the vengeful Knockout Ned in City of God, and Pelé’s dad in Pelé, but Seu Jorge is first and foremost a major MPB star. If you have him in your movie, you ought to take advantage of his chops, like Fernando Grostein Andrade did in his Sundance-selected film Abe. Not only did Seu Jorge play a major supporting role, he is also featured on the soundtrack and played an intimate 45-minute set at the ASCAP Music Café on Wednesday (as part of the programming of the 2019 Sundance Film Festival), backed only by the film’s music supervisor, Jaques Morelenbaum, on cello.

Technically, Jorge’s program of music from-and-inspired-by-the-movie Abe will not sound so familiar to anyone who just saw the film, but his fans recognized nearly every tune. For Brazilians, there were a handful of his old school hits, given a distinctly samba vibe from Jorge’s guitar and Morelenbaum’s cello. They also played a lightly swinging and downright jazz-like rendition of Gershwin’s “’S Wonderful” (the only English language performance of the set).

However, the centerpiece of the set was a trio of Jorge’s Bowie songs translated into Portuguese for Life Aquatic, which was a shrewd strategy, considering the Sundance audience’s likely familiarity with the Wes Anderson film. The stripped-down arrangement of “Rebel Rebel” is an absolute knockout that perfectly suits his deep baritone voice. “Life on Mars” sounded similarly haunting, in a way that is perfectly in keeping its Bowie roots. The same was generally true of “Ziggy Stardust,” but the slower tempo does not suit the melody as well.

Throughout the set, Morelenbaum’s accompaniment was tasteful and classy. The combination of guitar and cello was evocative of samba, as well as the coffeehouse and chamber music traditions. Even though Morelenbaum was definitely there in a supportive role, the standing-room-only crowd could hear the simpatico between the two artists.

The music on Abe is really quite different, but also very distinctive, including Jorge’s vocals on "Imigrantes" and Caetano Veloso’s “Meia Lua Inteira,” as well as Morelenbaum’s solo cello arrangements of Jobim’s “Brigas Numcas Mais” and “Samba de Uma Noto So.” All of the music associated (even distantly) with Abe is highly recommended and the movie is quite nice too (review to come). One thing is certain—Jorge’s ASCAP Music Café accomplished its mission, because it surely generated buzz and interest for the film.

(Photo: Erik Philbrook)

Sundance ’19: American Factory

It is sort of like the Ron Howard movie Gung Ho, but the new management is Chinese instead of Japanese. That leads to even greater culture clashes with their American workforce. Arguably, both sides have legitimate points, but it is hard for them to find common ground. Documentarians Steven Bognar & Julia Reichart observe the growing tensions in American Factory, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Until the late 2000s, the GM plant supplied hundreds of good paying jobs to Dayton area workers. In 2014, Chinese auto glass manufacturer Fuyao announced their intention to refit and reopen the shuttered factory, but it was difficult right from the start. Blame Sen. Sherrod Brown. At the ribbon cutting ceremony, he offered an unsolicited declaration of support for unionization of the factory, immediately making Fuyao executives, especially billionaire founder Cao Dewang, suspicious and defensive.

With productivity lagging behind Chinese standards, all the American executives of Fuyao USA are axed a few month later. Attitudes become entrenched, with the Chinese resenting American workers aversion to overtime and the Americans growing increasingly concerned about comparatively lax safety measures.

The frustrating thing about American Factory is the legitimacy of the concerns of both parties and their mutual unwillingness to look at issues from the other side. Frankly, Bognar and Reichart really bury their lede and then pave it over with concrete when concerned workers discuss the factory’s practice of illegally dumping chemicals. That goes beyond the scope of regular workplace grievances. It puts the company in huge risk of regulatory fines and sanctions.

In fact, the American Factory doc could be used a case study to illustrate the respective strengths and weaknesses of the American and Chinese models of labor relations and industrial organization. It is frustrating Bognar and Reichart never think to compare and contrast worker productivity, economic growth, workplace safety, and pollution figures in each country, because the numbers would be telling. There could have been some constructive policy recommendations coming out of the film, aside from never inviting Sherrod Brown to a ribbon-cutting ceremony.

Throughout American Factory, it is clear what happens at the Fuyao plant will have serious repercussions on the lives of the American workers and the very junior Chinese executives tasked with making it work. By and large, they are all decent people, which is why it is so depressing there is nobody in a position to effectively mediate between them.

American Factory captures a lot of drama, but we wish it had delved further into the really fundamental issues involved. It is compelling in its own terms, but it is too limited in scope to offer any kind of firm conclusions. Recommended for MBA candidates studying US-Chinese co-ventures, American Factory screens again today (2/1) in Park City, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance ’19: Sonja—the White Swan

If you visit Sun Valley, you can easily enjoy vintage performances from Sonja Henie, Glenn Miller, Dorothy Dandridge, and the Nicholas Brothers, because the 1941 Hollywood musical Sun Valley Serenade plays 24-hours on a local resort TV station. Unfortunately, you might not want to see that much of Henie after watching her new bio-pic. There is nothing flattering about the portrait of Henie that emerges in Anne Sewitsky’s Sonja: The White Swan, which screens during the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Henie was a record-breaking world and Olympic champion, who certainly never lacked for confidence. She basically talked and skated her way into a contract at 20^th Century Fox and then proceeded to save the cash-strapped studio with her rom-com hits. She was the Ethel Merman of frozen water, but she wasn’t very nice to be around.

According to Mette Marit Bølstad & Andrea Markusson’s screenplay, the early years in Hollywood are a non-stop party for Henie, but career setbacks, family squabbles, and financial problems make the 1950s much less fun. However, in just about every instance, Henie is to blame.

Rarely has a film ever shown such unbridled hostility to its subject. As portrayed in White Swan, Henie is not merely a shallow, selfish, self-centered prima donna. She is also a Nazi-namedropper, who projects an unsettling Lolita-esque sexual persona, while carrying on a decidedly unhealthy love-hate relationship with her brother Leif. Arguably, the film lets her off somewhat easy for the way she sweet talked Goebbels into approving German distribution for her films. On the other hand, in White Swan she never seems to understand why her connection to the National Socialists is problematic, whereas in real-life she appeared in the anti-Nazi film Everything Happens at Night and supported the American war effort and the “Little Norway” military training base for Norwegian refugees, so maybe she wasn’t as bad as the film suggests.

Regardless, Ine Marie Wilmann’s lead performance is just a jaw-dropping spectacle of hot mess antics and meltdowns. She makes Henie look like an absolutely horrible person, but her commitment is beyond question. She goes all-in, all the time. It is exhausting to watch, but it is undeniably impressive.

On the other end of the spectrum, Eldar Skar is relentlessly whiny as the emasculated Leif Henie. At one point, Henie calls Connie, her fictionalized secretary/punching bag, “mousy”—and boy, is that ever true of Valene Kane’s portrayal. Basically, her job is to look on woefully as her boss engages in yet more scandalous behavior. Arguably, Pål Sverre Hagen fares the best as Niels Onstad, her childhood friend and eventual third husband, who is the only one who ever gives Henie a good talking to.

With its heavy-synth-electro-ambient soundtrack, White Swan chucks away verisimilitude, reaching for some kind of Baz Luhrmann-Gatsby effect, but it never quite pulls it off. Instead, the film only really succeeds in turning the audience against Henie, but it leaves the mind boggled and baffled as to why she and her cast and crew would expend so much effort to do so. A real head-scratcher, Sonja: The White Swan screens again this morning (2/1) in Park City and tomorrow (2/2) in Salt Lake, as part of the Sundance Film Festival.