ACE Film Fest: The Big Shot Caller

While deeply rooted in the cultural environment of 1970’s El Barrio, salsa music has used evolving strategies to appeal to an emerging transnational market. That will be the stuff of an upcoming review of Christopher Washburne’s Sounding Salsa, but it is largely superfluous to Marlene Rhein’s salsa-flavored indy drama, The Big Shot Caller (trailer here), which concluded this year’s ACE Film Fest.

For protagonist Jaime Lessor, salsa simply represents freedom, passion, and a brief respite from being an uptight white guy. However, uncharitable reactions to an unfortunate eye condition (Nystagmus) caused him to bury his dancing ambitions, instead immersing himself in wage-slave drudgery. His family support system is nearly non-existent. He rarely visits a father who only cares about his next poker game, and he is avoiding his estranged sister Lianne, who ran away from home fifteen years ago.

At first, Lessor only agrees to see Lianne to get advice about a rare romantic prospect, Elissa, an Upper Manhattan party girl. It is pretty clear Lessor and Elissa are not going to work, but she is a woman giving him attention, so he falls hard. When the inevitable happens, it sends him into a personal tailspin. Depressed and unemployed, he turns to the only one who will take him in: his sister.

At its heart, Caller is a sibling story more than anything else. Music does play a significant role in the story, but it never eclipses the personal drama. The big dance comes and goes, but life goes on. Salsa fans might be a bit disappointed the music is not more prominent in the film, but they will enjoy hearing up-and-coming salsa band La Excelencia perform two tunes.

Jaime and Lianne Lessor are played by real-life brother-and-sister David and writer-director Marlene Rhein. They are indeed convincing in the roles, as one would expect. Marlene Rhein, a former music video director who worked with the likes of 2Pac Shakur and Amy Winehouse, helms with considerable sensitivity and uses New York locations to good effect. As a screenwriter, she steers clear of easy sentiment and delivers some of the film’s best lines as Lianne.

At times Caller is painfully believable to watch. Life can be that way. It is strong feature debut for the Rheins that deserves to find an audience as it plays the festival circuit.

ACE Film Fest: Kill Kill Faster Faster

The ACE Film Festival began with a truncated discussion of the challenges facing independent filmmaking. In some respects, the indy film scene has been a victim of its own past success, with the influence of breakout hits, like Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction and Soderbergh’s Sex, Lies, and Videotape, becoming all too pervasive. Now, far from being “edgy” graphic violence and sex, as well as frank language about both, are more derivative than transgressive. A case in point is Kill Kill Faster Faster (trailer here), which screened at ACE.

Frustratingly, KKFF begins with the promise of fresh originality. Gil Bellows plays Joey One-Way, a convicted murderer released from prison through the intervention Markie Mann, a producer who has optioned the con’s confessional play White Man Black Hole. Mann and his vapid show business associates want to romanticize One-Way’s thug life as a paragon of artistic integrity and authenticity. However, One-Way, consumed with guilt for his wife’s murder, contrarily argues there is nothing to admire in his life of crime and addiction. It is the straight family man who upholds his commitments that gets One-Way’s props. A cutting rebuke of hipster values—that’s edgy.

However, things go downhill precipitously when One-Way meets Mann’s wife Fleur, leading to a series of depressingly graphic, but unsatisfying sexual encounters. These are not erotic scenes in the least, but more like exercises in mutual contempt and debasement. Unfortunately, they dominate the second act, making it near impossible to develop a rooting interest in any character.

As One-Way, Bellows has sullen down cold, but never hits any other notes. Esai Morales’s Markie is a basic stock character. Only Shaun Parkes as One-Way’s former cell-mate Clinique shows any screen presence, providing Cassandra-like commentary. Probably the most successful aspect of the film is the score composed by Mike Benn, a musician best known for his work with folk-soul-jazz vocalist Terry Callier (who is also heard on the soundtrack), which effectively mixes blues, crime-jazz, and soundtracky mood cues.

KKFF is based on a novel by Joel Rose, which may well be worth reading. Periodically, interesting ideas do peak out of the screenplay, before being overwhelmed by its indy film excesses. Had KKFF followed through on its early hints of being a morality play with a genuine sense of morality, it truly would be edgy and independent. Instead, it is only another explicit crime drama.

ACE Film Fest: Shorts

Events seem to be conspiring against the ACE Film Festival. After facing stiff opening night competition from a historic RNC convention (better to be up against Sen. McCain than Gov. Palin though) the organizers will have Tropical Storm Hanna to contend with today. At least a couple shorts which screened Thursday should have cheered them up.

L.A. traffic can be a killer, to your social life at least. It also leads to a fair amount of bruising in Crystal Liu’s Speed Dating. Single and rather depressed about it, Kate is having difficulty meeting anyone, spending her days hermetically sealed in either her car or her office cubicle. After an unsuccessful night of clubbing, she accidentally nicks a single (but fortunately understanding) guy while pulling out of her parking spot. In the sober light of day, Kate realizes this can be quite an effective ice-breaker and loads up the car to deliberately clip eligible pedestrians. Hit them then hit-on them being the strategy.

Speed has pretty clever concept. While it might get a little thin if stretched to feature length, at about fifteen minutes, it maintains its comedic energy quite nicely. There are probably more laughs in this short film than most of the supposed relationship comedies produced by Hollywood for either television or the big screen.

While L’amie de Zoé would probably be more appreciated in this morning’s children’s program (at only two minutes, why not throw it in as a bonus?), it is an endearing little film, that actually tells a fair amount of story in its relatively short running time. In general, I think it is more effective when festivals thematically organize their shorts programs, but I have to admit the hodge-podge approach does sometimes get me to see films like Zoé which ordinarily I would not seek out.

You can see Zoé online here, but like any film, shorts are best viewed on the big screen. ACE screens another shorts program tonight, for those bold enough to brave the storm.

Claude Miller’s Secret

Is it possible for children to inherit the guilt of their parents? It can certainly cause pain and long-term distortions of familial relationships. When family secrets involve post-Holocaust survivor’s guilt, the emotional fissures could cleave deeply, as is the case in Claude Miller’s A Secret (trailer here), opening today in New York.

François has a strained relationship with his father Maxime. Told in multiple flashbacks, we see the young François as a frail child, who appears to be a constant disappointment to his athletic father. To compensate for his feelings of inadequacy, he creates an imaginary brother, who is everything François is not. However, whenever he refers to the imaginary Simon, he is sternly rebuked by his father.

More than just a defense mechanism, Simon seems to fill a deeper void he does not fully understand. Eventually, a friend of the family reveals the truth to him—Simon was his flesh-and-blood half-brother, but he and his mother, Maxime’s first wife Hannah, perished in the concentration camps.

In a flashback within a flashback, we see that Maxime was not always such a distant father. With Simon he was the picture of paternal pride and affection. His fidelity as a husband is an altogether different matter. Though married to the adoring Hannah, his eye often wandered to her glamorous sister Tania, who is now his second wife and François’s mother. Maxime also causes great consternation by refusing to register as a Jew or to wear the yellow star. Many in their circle see it as a rejection of his Jewish faith and heritage, but as deportation of French Jews begins, Maxime is tragically vindicated.

Maxime the man of action sets about arranging passage for his family out of France, going ahead to prepare the way for Hannah and Simon. Yet simmering family resentments persist, resulting in a plot turn that is hard to believe, but that is sort of the point. It is a decision that is so difficult to accept, it literally haunts every character of the film, causing the toxic guilt that metastasizes throughout François’s family.

Secret can be a bit problematic, in that it addresses the Holocaust in very distant, antiseptic terms. Yet, that is by necessity, because much of the resulting anguish stems from uncertainty. Miller’s direction is deftly understated, leading the audience to a simple but honestly redemptive ending. The director elicits strong performances from his cast, including his three youthful actors, who are all credible and not at all cloying or irritating. As the adult François, Mathieu Amalric effectively serves as both the narrator and conscience of the film, and Patrick Bruel conveys the humanity of the tortured Maxime.

At its core, Secret is a story about family more than anything else, but it happens to be a family deeply scarred by the crimes of National Socialism. Miller is an under-appreciated director, who has crafted a highly literate body of films, like the Ruth Rendell adaptation Alias Betty. While perhaps requiring some patience during the early establishing scenes of family dysfunction, Secret is also a very impressive film that is definitely recommended. It opens today in New York at the Paris Theatre (which celebrates its 60th anniversary with free popcorn and soda for ticket holders on September 13th).

Film Forum: Shoot the Piano Player

Of François Truffaut’s twenty-one full length features, four (Shoot the Piano Player, Mississippi Mermaid, Bride Wore Black and Confidentially Yours) easily fit within the crime film genre, with a fifth (Soft Skin) qualifying as a stretch, making up a significant portion of his filmography. Add to that his science fiction work as the director of Fahrenheit 451 and his acting role in Close Encounters, and you have Francois Truffaut, the master of genre cinema. In that context, his sophomore film Shoot the Piano Player is a perfect choice to conclude the Film Forum’s French (New) Crime Wave retrospective, with a week long run of a new 35mm print starting tomorrow.

Charles Aznavour might have been similar in stature to a Cagney or Bogart, but the French singer-songwriter looks nothing like a hard-boiled protagonist in Piano Player. Instead of wise-cracking his way through the action, Aznavour’s Edouard Saroyan (a.k.a. Charlie Kohler) is an introvert made even more withdrawn by the guilt and trauma buried in his past. Haunted by personal tragedy, Saroyan has essentially dropped out of life, both personally and professionally. Adopting the Kohler alias, he now grinds out sentimental drinking music as the house pianist for a working class gin mill. However, when his brother Chico, a semi-professional thief, comes looking for his help, it threatens to upset Saroyan’s morose equilibrium.

The resulting plot involving Chico’s doubled-crossed accomplices, though colorful, is not really the point. It is how Saroyan reacts or does not react, to their criminal machinations, as well as the possible reawakening of his life through the romantic interest of a pretty co-worker that really matters. For Piano Player to work, we must believe that despite often seeming callous or emotionally stunted, there is indeed a soul buried somewhere deep within Saroyan, which Aznavour conveys convincingly.

How Saroyan relates to music seems to suggest something about his personality. To console himself after a failure of nerve, Saroyan invokes jazz pianists he admires in an interior monologue heard through Aznavour’s voice-over. He lists spectacular improvisers like Art Tatum and Errol Garner, as well as the bluesy Junior Mance, whose name is famously mangled in the subtitles (its currently “Juno” something). While Saroyan might admire the improvisational freedom of jazz, he excelled in classical recitals, where the opportunity for self-expression is greatly circumscribed by the notes on the score and the composer’s intent. He now performs hackneyed ditties, in which attempts at personal expression are unnecessary, even unwelcome. Yet there is something about his playing that still commands attention.

Piano Player has all the conventions of both the Nouvelle Vague and the noir crime film, which might explain its widely mixed critical reception when first released. While at times willfully eccentric, bordering on the outrageous, it is a tragedy at heart. One can debate Paino Player's position in the Truffaut canon all day, but it remains an essential film of the French New Wave. Seeing it on the big screen is highly recommended. Its New York repertory run starts tomorrow.

Monterey: The Vocalists

Jimmy Witherspoon—Live at the 1972 Monterey Jazz Festival
Shirley Horn—Live at the 1994 Monterey Jazz Festival
MJF Records

Some classic albums were recorded live at the Monterey Jazz Festival, like Charles Lloyd’s breakout Forest Flower. In recent years though, it seemed like other festivals were much more prolific releasing live sets. However, the Monterey vaults have opened, happily resulting in several waves of live releases from prestigious jazz artists. Jazz vocalist and pianist Shirley Horn and blues singer Jimmy Witherspoon are two such artists, featured in previously unreleased live festival sets from 1972 and 1994, respectively.

Jimmy Witherspoon was a blues singer who often played with jazz artists, including the likes of Harry “Sweets” Edison and Jack McDuff, so he was an easily compatible fit for the Monterey Festival, which he played several times. The band he brought to the fest in 1972, featuring Robben Ford on guitar, was also inclined to range into jazz territory. However, much of the set finds them squarely in a blues bag, like the deep slow “S.K. Blues” and “Goin’ Down Slow.”

The best moments of the set are indeed the bluesiest, like a heartfelt “I Want a Little Girl,” performed in tribute to the recently deceased Basie blues shouter Jimmy Rushing. However, some selections were abbreviated for various in-the-moment reasons, like “Walkin’ By Myself,” evidently cut short by a premature curtain. It is kind of funny listening to Witherspoon threatening to cut it open with his knife, at least the first time you hear it. Overall, Witherspoon’s 1972 appearance is a solid, respectable set, if not transcendent.

Shirley Horn’s 1994 set however was a total show-stopper. After a brief how-do-you-do rendition of “Foolin’ Myself,” Horn settled in for an incredible performance of Bacharach’s hoary old “The Look of Love,” that avoids all the camp and maudlin sentimentality usually associated with it. Horn invests the lyrics with stately gravitas, finding unexpected depth in the song, yet it swings like mad. It is the definitive version, so everyone else may as well stop recording it (seriously, please).

From the dramatic “Here’s to Life” to the rollicking “Hard Hearted Hannah,” Horn demonstrates pitch-perfect mastery of her art throughout her Monterey set. In her hands, an ostensibly cute little ditty like “Nice ‘N’ Easy” becomes a smoldering hot song of hard-earned experience, and again it swings hard. Consistently under-rated as a pianist, she closes with a rousing instrumental turn in the form of Oscar Peterson’s “Blues for Big Scotia” that had the audience clapping along.

This would in fact be a great disk to introduce listeners to Horn specifically, and to jazz vocalists in general. While eight of the ten songs were broadcast on NPR’s Jazz Set, the entire concert is only now seeing a commercial release. It is a fantastic live recording that might eventually come to be considered a legitimate classic.

TEN

TEN
By Anthony Brown’s Asian American Orchestra
Water Baby Records

The history of San Francisco’s Fillmore District is colorful to say the least, having once been home to Bill Graham’s rock palace and Jim Jones’s Peoples Temple. Formerly known as Nihonjin-Machi or Japantown before WWII, the Japanese internment camps created vacancies that were filled by an influx of African-American laborers working for defense contractors. For a time the Fillmore was known as the Harlem of the West for its jazz clubs and nightlife, before urban planning run amok devastated the neighborhood. “Bridging Japantown and the Fillmore with Jazz” is the theme for Anthony Brown’s Asian American Orchestra’s tenth season of programming, which they are launching with the release of TEN, which includes selections from past releases as well as some previously unreleased music.

Making their recorded debut on TEN are brief selections from Brown’s soundtrack for Philip Gotanda’s stage drama After the War, which tells the story of a Japanese ex-jazz musician returning from an internment camp to his Fillmore home after the Allied victory. As such, it is clearly a work Brown can thematically relate to. The three selections heard here are essentially cues, but sound quite nice. However, their clever sequencing actually makes what could be dismissed as a sampler package sound like a unified program. For instance, the opening “After the War [Act II]” with its steady groove and cool muted trumpet leads rather fittingly into Mingus’s “Self Portrait in Three Colors.”

Brown’s Asian American Orchestra regularly features Yangqin Zhao’s Chinese hammered dulcimer in their instrumentation, which adds a rich texture to the Mingus standard and the following “Andantino/Adagio” from Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. His arrangement gives the primary solo space to Will Bernard’s guitar, a less than obvious choice for classical pops favorite that works terrifically.

TEN also draws tracks from sessions featuring special guests, which might be the strongest showcase fusions of jazz and traditional Asian music on the disk. On Ellington’s “Come Sunday,” David Murray’s bass clarinet sounds particularly soulful over Hong Wang’s Chinese violin. Likewise, Monk’s “Misterioso” sounds like a natural vehicle both for the dulcimer and a soprano solo from the late great Steve Lacy that is both funky and adventurous, much like Monk himself. The Chinese percussion and strings are less pronounced on Monk’s “Hackensack,” but it definitely cooks, with Lacy again demonstrating why he was considered one of the foremost performers of the composer’s music, followed by a swinging open-horned solo from trumpeter John Worley.

As represented on TEN, Brown’s orchestra is arguably the most successful group integrating jazz and Eastern musical forms since perhaps Joe Harriott and John Mayer’s Double Quintet. By comparison, while Kenny Garrett’s Beyond the Wall was an excellent album, it was much more western jazz-dominated and took its inspiration more from Tibetan chants than from instrumental sources, whereas Bob James’ Angels of Shanghai just was not that good.

Most importantly, this is an excellent band that sounds really together. Based in San Francisco, they will kick off their season at Yoshi’s on September 11th (I wish them luck with that, but its still not a going out night for me). TEN does make one want to hear them live though, so one hopes a tour will soon bring them east (meaning Manhattan) soon.

Currents from Holland

Currents
By the Wolfert Brederode Quartet
ECM Records 2004

Manfred Eicher’s ECM Records and vintage Alfred Lion-era Blue Note often seem poles apart stylistically, but arguably they shared philosophical similarities. Both labels were developed by strong founding producers whose distinctive aesthetic sense even shaped the signature look of their albums. Each also built reputations for respecting their artists, often signing sidemen who had distinguished themselves on previous sessions to their own contracts. Wolfert Brederode is the latest example of this practice. After contributing to the distinctive sounds of vocalist Susanne Abbuehl’s CDs, the Dutch pianist has just released Currents, his first session as a leader for the label.

Brederode kicks off with “Common Fields,” one of the more melodic and rhythmic selections in an elegantly subtle set. Brederode lays down a hypnotic groove on piano over which clarinetist Claudio Puntin soars, egged on by Samuel Rohrer’s insistent cymbals. It is a compelling track—an attention-getting introduction for a set of often ruminative music entirely composed, or in one case co-composed by the leader. It is followed by the exquisitely delicate “Empty Room,” a track that can easily get overwhelmed by outside distractions if you are listening to it around town on your ipod.

“High & Low,” essentially a trio performance, has a lighter, airier feel, nicely demonstrating the musicians’ facility for using space and rests, before Puntin returns to the fore introducing the mournful pastoral “With Them.” Throughout Currents, his clarinet sounds far removed from the shrill old-timey licorice stick, bringing forth a deep resonance from the instrument.

The aptly titled “Frost Flower” has a similar dark trance-like vibe as “Fields,” but is taken at a somewhat slower tempo. “Scarabee” is another thoughtful piece that also allows for some eloquent statements from Brederode and Puntin. Brederode’s group consistently shows a particular facility for subtle dynamic shifts, as on “Desiderata,” which steadily builds in intensity from the leader’s spare introduction.

As is the case with many ECM sessions, Currents resembles an EU summit conference, with the Norwegian bassist Mats Eilertsen and the Swiss Puntin and Rohrer joining the Dutch leader to form a remarkably cohesive unit. Like Mathias Eick’s recent release, it is quite rewarding to hear a relatively new artist afforded the opportunity to pursue their own musical conceptions as leaders. Brederode’s music has a fluid vibe that expresses much with great economy, making Currents a rich listen for those willing to spend the time to let it properly incubate in their ears.

Jazz & Blues Musicians of SC

Jazz & Blues Musicians of South Carolina: Interviews with Jabbo, Dizzy, Drink, and Others
By Benjamin Franklin V
University of South Carolina Press

Aside from Dizzy Gillespie’s Cheraw roots, South Carolina rarely factors in the popular histories of jazz. Jack McCray offered the beginnings of a case that Charleston deserves a place alongside New Orleans as an early incubator of the music in his photographic history of the city’s jazz scene. Now Benjamin Franklin V contributes interviews with nineteen jazz artists, and a few blues musicians, who either were born or spent a significant period of time in the Palmetto State, collected in Jazz & Blues Musicians of South Carolina.

To give South Carolina its due, there are in fact some big names represented in Franklin’s book, including Gillespie, Arthur Prysock, Jabbo Smith, Chris Potter, and both Etta Jones and Houston Person. (Longtime Basie sideman Johnny Williams graces the cover.) There are some interesting biographical details here that I have not read elsewhere. For instance, Prysock’s voice is actually familiar to millions from the eight years he sang “Here’s to Good Friends” for Lowenbrau.

In fact, J&BSC really starts to pick up as a read about the point of Prysock’s interview. Franklin adapted the book from interviews conducted for the South Caroliniana Library at USC, publishing them in a strict transcription format. Some would have greatly benefited had they been fleshed out into feature profiles, particularly the more senior musicians who start the book and prove to be more reserved, even reticent in their answers.

However, he had no trouble getting Drink Small talking in an interview that reads like it is perilously close to spinning out of control when the guitarist-vocalist starts discussing religion, telling Franklin:

“But like I tell people, I had me a lady almost cry. I said, ‘Lady, nobody going to heaven but me.’ She said, ‘Why do you say that?’ ‘Because I tell the truth. Nobdy going to heaven.’ What you got to say about that?

BF: I don’t know Drink.” (p. 75)

The most valuable interviews in J&BSC feature musicians who participated in some memorable late 1950’s sessions in New York, but had since been largely forgotten. Ron Free was something of a prodigy on drums who recorded with the likes of Lee Konitz and Mose Allison. Despite having a great name for jazz, personal problems including drugs sidetracked his career for many years. However, he sounds quite philosophical about it all in his session with Franklin, telling him: “I used to say that if you had a lot of real bad karma in a previous lifetime, you came back in this one as a jazz musician.” (p. 128)

Webster Young barely qualifies for inclusion having simply been born in the state, but spending little time there subsequently. Yet his chapter might be the most valuable since very little has been written about the under-appreciated trumpeter. For one thing, he describes a mentoring side of Miles Davis’s personality rarely recognized by his biographers. He relates one such incident when the famous musician gave him a shot of confidence for his first recording session: “On the morning of the date, I went over to see Miles, and he convinced me that I could do it.” (p. 63)

Naturally some themes and touchstone institutions recur throughout. For older musicians, it is the Jenkins Orphanage brass band. For younger musicians, the Main Street Jazz Festival looms large in their memories of South Carolina jazz. However, high school and college marching bands seemed to be a fairly common formative experience across generations.

Some of the less heralded artists of J&BSC turned out to be the more compelling interview subjects. More historical context and descriptive prose would have helped smooth over the rough edges of the transcript format, but there are some good stories to be found in the book. While uneven, it could have greater value to jazz researchers than its regional title might suggest.

NYKFF: Once Upon a Time

The Japanese subjugation of China, particularly Nanking, is now infamous, yet Korea’s experience during WWII goes relatively unmentioned in Western media. Granted the Imperial Japanese presence in Korea pre-dated the war and would ultimately result in a divided country, but one think there would be as much interest for Korea’s historical experience as for that of a confirmed geo-political rival and totalitarian state. While far from a serious, in-depth examination of Korea during the Second World War, Once Upon a Time (in Corea) (trailer here), screening today at the NYKFF, makes interesting use of its historical backdrop.

It is the summer of 1945 and the other shoe is about to drop for the Japanese. As of now, they still control Korea, having been there for approximately thirty-five years. Speaking Korean is prohibited and citizens have been forced to adopt Japanese names. Causing further distress, Korea’s national treasure, the spectacular “Light of the East” diamond has recently fallen into the hands of the Japanese authorities. Enter caper movie.

In need of resources to feed the war machine, Korea’s gem is to be shipped to Japan, after a gala celebration of its discovery, just the sort of soiree sure to draw the attention of a couple of enterprising thieves. One is Hae Dang-hwa, mostly known as Haruko in the film. Ostensibly a jazz singer, though her numbers sound more like contemporary Korean pop, she has drawn the unwelcome attentions of a Japanese military police colonel. Bong-gu, or Kanemura, a playboy antiquities dealer and general rogue, the other rival for her romantic affections, turns out to also be her competition for the rock. As they chase the prize, the local resistance cell based at Haruko’s night club targets the Japanese military commander for assassination, as Japan’s military outlook progressively worsens.

Evidently, these pulp-serial inspired adventures are difficult to pull off. Spielberg and Lucas were at the height of their powers when they made Raiders of the Lost Ark. More common are fair to lackluster efforts like The Shadow and The Phantom. In truth, Once is pretty entertaining, one of the more successful attempts at the genre. It keeps the caper plot moving at a good pace and successfully submerges us in its time and place. At times though, we could use some relief from the comic relief of the incompetent resistance partisans.

As Haruko, Lee Bo-young might have a nice voice, but it is not even close to jazz that she sings. However, we do hear some incidental big band music as well as a jazz rhythm section during some actions sequences. Strangely, her stated ambition is to open a jazz club in Russia, the supposed “home of jazz.” Given Stalin’s actual attitude towards jazz, it is a good thing she never makes it there.

Directed with flash by Jeong yong-gi, Once looks great and Lee Bo-young’s production numbers have a kind of eccentric charm (whatever style they might be). Despite the seriousness of its setting, Once is essentially entertaining, light-hearted fare that never delves too deeply into the dark realities of its place and time in history. It screens tonight as the NY Korean Film Festival moves to BAM.

Music is Perfume

Dr. House and Caetano Veloso are both fans of Maria Bethânia. At one point, House M.D. used her “Fera Ferida” on the show’s soundtrack (but it is not on the official CD release). Veloso has worked with Bethânia since their earliest years—he happens to be her older brother. In fact, it was he who renamed her after a popular romantic ballad of the time. Veloso tells that story as one of several giants of Brazilian music paying tribute to Bethânia in Maria Bethânia: Music is Perfume (trailer here), opening today in New York.

Bethânia’s career has moved through distinct phases. Once known for decidedly political material, she became an interpreter of unapologetically romantic Brazilian popular song in the 1980’s. Despite the stylistic change, she remains committed to the song’s integrity. She now largely prefers simple, direct arrangements which best suit the material. Of a song of innocent flirtation she explains: “It’s a light-hearted song. Like a conversation between friends. . . Taking it too seriously, adding strings and so on, might make it a bit . . . corny.”

Her repertoire, as reflected in Perfume, does not completely ignore material of social significance. Probably her most effective performance in the film is of a song which directly links Brazilian music with the Middle Passage ordeal, as she sings (in Portuguese): “The drumming waves of night taught me to sing.”

In interview segments we hear from some of the most prominent names in Brazilian music, including Gilberto Gil, Chico Buarque, and as one would expect, Veloso, who even plays a brief rendition of “Maria Bethânia.” We also hear her joined in concert by Nana Caymmi and Miucha, a past collaborator with Antonio Carlos Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes.

While Bethânia’s musical director Jaime Alem will use an element here and there borrowed from jazz, it not part of an over-riding concept beyond the simple goal of finding what best serves the music. Bethânia’s first big hit was in fact a samba, which she often returns to, most notably with “Samba de Benção,” a song that appeals to her Bahia pride. Still, the overall vibe of Bethânia’s music is that of the popular and often traditional love song, delivered in a decidedly intimate style.

As captured by director Georges Gachot, Bethânia seems very down-to-earth. Several times she talks about the simple pleasures of a nice cold beer. She also obviously maintains strong relationships with her family, including Veloso and their mother, nonagenarian matriarch Dona Caro.

As a film Perfume is pleasant enough, if small in scope. While Bethânia might have started her career as a firebrand, the film entirely avoids any political controversies. While she doubtless has very definite opinions on the state of the world, the film focuses almost all its attentions on her music, which really is the best way to present an artist. It starts its New York run today at the Pioneer with Youssou N’Dour: Return to Gorée (separate admissions), which would probably be somewhat more interesting to jazz audiences than the delicate lyricism of Bethânia’s vocals. Still, Perfume is certainly an effective introduction for general audiences to a major Brazilian artist.

Sukiyaki Western Django Comes to Town

After Kurosawa films inspired westerns like The Magnificent Seven and A Fistful of Dollars, there is a certain amount of twisted logic in re-importing the spaghetti western back into Japan. Takashi Miike’s Sukiyaki Western Django (trailer here) is that film. Borrowing from Sergio Leone, Sergio Corbuccio, and indirectly Kurosawa, Miike recasts Yojimbo in feudal Japan, using what look like the costumes for a western-themed stage show meant to star Liberace and some of the props from Corbuccio’s original Django.

Miike cranks up the action somewhere between a cartoon and a video game, with stuff flying through the air and characters occasionally blowing holes through each other big enough to stick your arm through. Hideaki Ito is the archetypal man with no name, who swaggers into town, finding his skills sought after by the rival Genji (white) and Heike (red) clans—essentially A Fistful of Dollars rewound back to the feudal Heiji Rebellion. Listening to offers but staying non-committal, the gunslinger cools his heels at the Soba house run by Ruriki.

Red and white briefly mixed to pink when Ruriki’s son married Shizuka. However, when her husband was killed by his own clan, Shizuka took dubious refuge with the Genji, where she most definitely catches the lone gunslinger’s eye. While Sukiyaki is for the most part a testosterone driven action movie, its most interesting performances come from women. Yoshino Kimura is both seductive and emotionally nuanced as “the temptress” Shizuka. Kaori Momoi (previously seen it films like Memoirs of a Geisha and Kurosawa’s Kagemusha) steals the show as Ruriki, who turns out to be more of an action hero than the wooden gunslinger.

Some of the men do not fare so well, from an aesthetic perspective. The worst performance comes from Quentin Tarantino, who seems convinced audiences want to see he camp it up and go completely over the top. We don’t. This is totally annoying Destiny Turns on the Radio Tarantino, not the somewhat sufferable Pulp Fiction Tarantino. Fortunately, it is a relatively small supporting role, because when he is on-screen, things come to a screeching halt—quite an achievement given the hyper-kinetic energy Miike infuses into the proceedings

Miiko goes for whacked-out gonzo action and largely succeeds, thanks to the ultra-cool Momoi and a dance number from Kimura that alone is worth the price of admission. However, the film has a mean streak that somewhat dampens my enthusiasm. Cruelty and physical humor go hand-in-hand in Sukiyaki, and at times it makes an uneasy fit. It has wild look and a bizarre vibe, partly due to the actors’ unnatural sounding phonetic English. An occasional subtitle might have helped.

Takashi Miike is the ultimate cult director, so Sukiyaki should be red meat for his fans. The rest of us mere mortals are likely to find it wildly uneven, but never dull. After successful festival screenings co-presented by NYAFF and the Japan Society, Sukiyaki opens in New York today at the Angelika.

My Mexican Shivah

The Hola Mexico Film Festival started each screening with two entertaining spots that worked well together: one was Dos Equis’ “Most Interesting Man in the World” and the other was the My Mexican Shivah trailer, featuring the tagline: “the worst thing about dying . . . is getting the family together.” If not the most interesting man in the world (they certainly look similar), the late Moishe lived richly and on his own terms, which led to friction with his family, making the cosmic reckoning of Aleph and Bet, the angelic rabbis watching over his shivah, an uncertain proposition. Those seven days are chronicled in director Alejandro Springall’s Shivah, opening tomorrow in New York.

Moishe died as he lived, kicking up his heels to his favorite mariachi band, a fact unremarked on by his uptight family. Though estranged from the late patriarch, they proceed with his shivah, by necessity at his daughter Esther’s house, because Moishe was shacked up with Julia Palafox, the notorious Catholic home-wrecker. Anticipation that the scandalous Palafox might have the audacity to pay her respects exacerbates the already high family tensions. Moishe’s son Ricardo is dealing with girlfriend issues and a mid-life crisis. Esther and her daughter Galia continually spare over her private life in America. For her part Galia does her best to ignite the sexual attraction between herself and her newly Orthodox cousin Nicolás. For seven days it all simmers in a pot of forced family togetherness.

Shivah is defined by a religious ceremony whose participants’ piety varies widely. By and large though, the film is fair in its portrayal of each extreme. True, the Chevreman of the funeral society is more concerned with the form than the spirit of the ceremony. However, the newfound Orthodox faith of Nicolás is never dismissed as a matter of convenience, even when we learn he had reasons for relocating to Israel in a hurry.

While Shivah has the outward appearances of a comedy, it is much more of a family drama. Rather than being terminally quirky, Moishe’s family is surprisingly believable. Not every relative’s subplot pans out, but it is a big family. The cast is quite effective portraying the community of Polaco, Mexico City’s Jewish neighborhood. In particular, David Ostrosky hits a nice balance between world-weariness and desperation as Ricardo, and veteran actress Blanca Guerra exudes warmth and wisdom as the infamous Palafox.

It is all nicely complemented by Jacobo Lieberman’s score for the Klezmatics, whose best known member is probably the somewhat jazz-influenced trumpeter Frank London, who himself scored other films, like the doc Divan, which also addresses notions of Jewish identity. Indeed, the Klezmer and Mariachi music heard in Shivah make for an interesting mix and is part of the film’s charm.

When the shivah concludes, Shivah essentially ends, although hardly any of the family issues are resolved. That’s life, after all. Jorge Goldenberg’s screenplay based on an Ilan Stavans story is often clever and the characterizations are credible. Rather than condemn them for their bourgeoisie ways, Shivah is respectful of the things that bring people together during bereavement—family, friendship, and even religion. While small in scope, Shivah tells Moishe’s story honestly, ultimately giving the dearly departed his due. It opens at the Quad tomorrow.

NYKFF: A Love

He broods, she’s cute, it’s all very tragic, and ends with an unusually long dramatic freeze frame. That is Kwak Kyung-taek’s A Love (Korean trailer here) in a nutshell— unadulterated popcorn romance. If you enjoy sweeping weepers, A Love was your cup of tea at the NYKFF.

If we must discuss plot, it is a generous portion of star-crossed love with an occasional side dish of violence. Our lovers briefly meet in grade school, where In-ho finds himself compelled to come to Mi-ju’s defense. However, her family’s financial ruin leads to their first separation. In high school he unknowingly forms the most unlikeliest of friendships with her punk brother. When her brother and mother die in a fit of family dysfunction, In-ho again steps up to be Mi-ju’s protector, which she will need. Her late mother’s loan shark has an ugly method of collecting her bad debts, foiled at the last minute by our hero. Unfortunately, he is sent to jail as a result, leading to their second separation.

Years pass and eventually our hero is released. In-ho gets a job on the docks where he attracts the attention of the powerful chairman of a multinational corporation, who promotes him to serve as his bodyguard-enforcer. Eventually, one of his duties entails looking after the Chairman’s new kept mistress, who of course would be the lost love of his life.

While far removed in time and tone, Love’s fundamental plot somewhat parallels that of Hwang Jin-Yi. Young lovers are torn apart, only to come together again when the protector must facilitate the sexual dealings of his true love. Kwak directs it all with shameless indulgence, so despite holes in its wildly emotional plot, on some level the film works, until it’s climax finally goes too far over-the-top .

Joo Jin-mo broods like a champion as In-ho and is believable in his judo scenes. Park Si-yeon’s Mi-ju quite convincingly becomes the personification of vulnerability and sensitive regret, letting us accept their unrepentantly romantic relationship. Is it uncool to admit I enjoyed such a sentimental film?

Despite some similar plot elements, Hwang Jin-Yi is a serious, well-crafted prestige picture that beautifully recreates Korea’s Joseon Dynastic era. Song Hye-kyo is great as the celebrated kisaeng poet, in a film that also has plenty of sweeping romance in addition to its historical speculation. It screens at BAM as part of the NYKFF on Sunday.

Return to Goree: N’Dour and Jazz

Although it was a small supporting role, Youssou N’Dour showed tremendous screen presence portraying Oloudah Equiano in Amazing Grace. A charismatic performer with a powerful voice, N’Dour now has his own cinematic vehicle in the documentary Youssou N’Dour: Return to Gorée (trailer here). Opening Friday in New York, Gorée serves both as N’Dour’s meditation on the legacy of slavery and his pilgrimage through the music of the African Diaspora, as he leads an all-star group through jazz and gospel arrangements of his Senegalese songs.

The film starts and culminates at Gorée, the island home of the notorious slave-trading outpost off the coast of Senegal. It opens with the stirring lyrics of N’Dour’s anthem “Red Clay,” which speak directly to the African experience, making a fitting start for the musical odyssey to come. After securing the blessing of the curator of Gorée’s House of Slaves for his mission, N’Dour’s first rendezvous is with the French jazz pianist Moncef Genoud, who had previously collaborated with the vocalist on jazz arrangements of his material at a jazz festival. Together they perform with the Harmony Harmoneers at the Greater Israel Christian Fellowship church in Atlanta. However, N’Dour seems bizarrely alarmed to hear them sing their praise of Jesus in rehearsals—he wanted gospel, after all. Despite a bit of grumbling, the Harmoneers do agree to secularize their performance of “My Hope is in You” (the “you” formerly being Jesus for the gospel singers).

The next stop is New Orleans for a jazz set at Snug Harbor, with drummer Idris Muhammad and bassist James Cammack joining the rhythm section for the duration of the tour. In a pattern that repeats throughout the film, director Pierre-Yves Borgeaud films N’Dour and colleagues in a scorching rehearsal, and then moves on without showing the actual concert.

Then it is on to New York for a session with vocalist Pyeng Threadgill (daughter of the often avant-garde Henry Threadgill) and harmonica player Gregoire Maret, who has played on high profile recordings with the likes of Cassandra Wilson, Pat Metheny, and Marcus Miller. We also hear a jazz-and-poetry collaboration with Amiri Baraka, who is relatively restrained in his militancy on that particular day, mercifully.

N’Dour and company make a final stopover in Luxemburg to add two more axes to the band, trumpeter Erni Hammes and Austrian guitarist Wolfgang Muthspiel, who plays an eloquent solo as we hear his thoughts on the project. Muthspiel observes:

“The center of the music is the song. Youssou sings and is surrounded, illumined by the playing of the musicians, which you could call jazz influenced, but the center is not the improvising. The center is the song. In a way, I think even the best jazz musicians have the song in the center.”

As the musicians assemble in Dakar, the Harmoneers tour the House of Slaves and are moved to sing “Return to the Land of Gorée.” It is a scene that recalls Roberta Flack singing “Freedom Song” in a Ghanaian slave fortress during the Soul to Soul concert film, (which was cut at her request from Rhino’s DVD/CD reissue).

When the final concert kicks off, it does sound like the band came together into a tight unit. Unfortunately, we do not hear the full group with the Harmoneers or Threadgill. In general though, N’Dour’s experiment sounds great. His songs translate well into a jazz context, helped by the presence of jazz musicians like Muhammad and Genoud who are well attuned to N’Dour’s original music.

With an interesting mix of well known musicians like N’Dour and Muhammad with European artists largely unfamiliar to American audiences, like trumpeter Hammes in particular, Gorée is definitely a cool jazz documentary. It opens Friday in the City at the Two Boots Pioneer, along with Music is Perfume, a film about Brazilian vocalist Maria Bethania from the same distributor (but screening separately). Look for a review of Perfume on Friday.

NYKFF: Shorts

In publishing, it is established wisdom that readers prefer novels to short stories. With films, the preference for features over shorts is even more pronounced. It seems that film festivals are the only real venue remaining for shorts, which is unfortunate. It is not as if people can not enjoy short films if given an opportunity. They just are not on the current cultural radar. To expand on a discussion after Monday night’s short film program at the New York Korean Film Festival, one reason shorts are largely denied any meaningful publicity is because they can be devilishly difficult to write about (believe me).

By their nature, shorts are often impressionistic and poetic. Their stories are compressed, frequently relying on suggestion and gesture. Conveying such a viewing experience to readers is much more demanding than simple plot summary. A film like Weekend, directed by Paula Kim, is a case in point. It is a film entirely about perspective, depicting the dreariness of solitude or the pleasure of independent living, depending on the artfully filmed point-of-view. As the audience first watches the protagonist’s weekend unfold, her face is kept obscured from view, without the film feeling forced or gimmicky. During the second pass, we see her countenance, getting entirely different impression of her weekend spent alone. Obviously, you have to see the film to get a real sense of it.

When short films do have concrete plots, or at least discrete plot devices, they often end on an indeterminate note, or a punch line for which you have to experience the set-up to truly appreciate. Ted Chung’s A Thousand Words is a story of a man’s attempt to return a digital camera to a woman on a train, and perhaps forge a more substantial human connection, that concludes without definitively revealing his ultimate success or failure. Similarly, Ruslan Pak’s

Dance of the Free Bird, caps off a student’s terrible night of internet dating with an amusing moment that would not have much meaning apart from the scenes which led up to it.

The best short film of the NYKFF shorts program is probably the easiest to convey, at least in terms of communicating its basic plot, if not its intensity. James Bang’s Wianbu—Comfort Woman dramatizes the horrific experience of a so-called Comfort Woman, one of 200,000 Asian women kidnapped and sexually brutalized by the Japanese military during WWII. Portraying Sohee, a captive Korean comfort woman, Elena Chang gives an absolutely fearless performance. As a Wianbu, she is repeatedly violated, but shames one of her would be tormentors with the depravity of his actions. It is a painfully difficult film to watch.

Clearly, festivals like NYKFF still value short films as early opportunities for young filmmakers to practice their craft. Yes, there is tremendous potential for shorts to find viewers online. However, the better short films like Wianbu deserve a serious audience and should be seen as they were intended. Most filmmakers did not go to the considerable effort and expense of making their short films in the hopes it would be seen in a cocktail napkin-sized window on youtube. They had a big screen in mind. Last night you could sense nobody in the audience could breathe during Wianbu. That is an element of the viewing experience completely lost online.

ACE Film Festival: Preview

Yes, this week will be heavy on Korean films as coverage of the NYKFF continues. If Korean cinema is not your cup of tea, you’re missing out, but there will be plenty of arts documentaries in the very near future. The 2008 ACE Film Festival (the American Cinematic Experience) is set to take place September 4-7 in the main theater of New World Stages, just west of Times Square in the Theater District. Having seen shows here before, I expect it to be a cool venue for the Fest.

In addition to narrative features and shorts, the ACE Film Festival includes five documentaries from the extensive New York Foundation for the Arts film library. The NYFA selections touch on various disciplines of the humanities, including music, dance, architecture, and history. I already heartily recommend Been Rich All My Life¸ the story of the Apollo Theater dancers, the Silver Belles, which screens the 7th and plan to attend the screening of the Holocaust documentary, The Children of Chabannes.

In the narrative program, the Salsa drama The Big Shot Caller, sounds particularly promising, since it has been chosen to close the festival. Also, Kill Kill Faster Faster looks like a notable film-noir, with a big-name cast and a Crime Jazz-influenced score by Michael Benn, known for his work with Terry Callier.

The ACE Film Festival runs from the 4th through the 7th. Information on tickets and passes, directions, and film descriptions can be found here. As a preview, here is a slightly condensed version of a previous Been Rich All My Life review, which screens at ACE Sunday, September 7th:


There was a time when people dressed up for a night out. The big bands ruled the night clubs and theaters, and the women of the Silver Belles were dancing in the chorus at the Apollo Theater. Director-producer-and-most-everything-else Heather Lyn MacDonald records their stories in the touching feature documentary Been Rich All My Life.

It was big band swing that they danced to at the Apollo and legendary night-spots like the Cotton Club, so as one would expect, music plays an important role in their story. Silver Belle Marian Coles explains: “We do mostly jazz moves. You got to be loose to move and the music inspires that.” Which band did they single out? Jimmie Lunceford’s: “that was our band . . . because they were swinging.”

Ms. Coles, age 88 at time of filming, was also teaching tap in addition to performing. When she talks about preserving the tap tradition, her words have resonance for jazz lovers as well: “I love to dance—I teach because our style of dance—there’s no one out here doing it . . . I teach to pass it on, because the students love it.” Her teaching techniques even reflect a jazz influence, as she scats the dance steps to her students.

MacDonald captured some great interviews, preserving some important cultural history. In one interview, Cleo Hayes tells us: “I’m from Greenville, Mississippi and I don’t have to tell you why I left.” If you don’t know, it should be clear when listening to their experiences on Southern tours. Even when a part of the first African-American USO tour, they had to deal with segregation, despite soldiers shouting: “Hey Apollo, Hey Apollo.”

Tap like jazz depends on masters passing down the tradition, by teaching young talents. Coles and Hayes both credit senior member Bettye Lou Wood, who passed away during filming, for just that sort of formative instruction early in their careers. It is that sense of living tradition and passion for one’s art that makes Been Rich a rewarding film.

NYKFF: Hwang Jin-Yi

There was a time when being both a poet and prostitute was considered highly unusual. That would be sixteenth century Korea, when Hwang Jin-yi, known professionally as the kisaeng Myung-wol, was desired both for her beauty and her verses. Hwang Jin-yi has been a popular figure in Korean drama, having recently been the subject of a 2006 television mini-series and soon thereafter director Chang Youn-hyun’s Hwang Jin-Yi (Korean trailer here), which opened this year’s NY Korean Film Festival.

According to the director during a post-screening Q&A, this Hwang Jin-Yi speculates more on the courtesan’s back-story. We see her raised as a daughter of nobility, schooled in arts and letters and catered to by servants, including the young orphan boy Nom-yi. Of course, he falls in love with his mistress and their fates become intertwined. After a period of exile, Nom-yi returns to the household as a steward with fierce fighting prowess and a considerable working knowledge of the pleasure district.

The family’s fortunes have fallen since her father death, but her impending marriage promises to improve their position, until the engagement is suddenly cancelled. The family of her intended has learned a secret even she is not privy to: she is not of noble blood, but raised to the manor-born after her mother, a lowly maid, was attacked by her father and then cast out. With the truth public knowledge, her options are limited. She opts for the most independent life then available to common-born woman in Joseon-era Korea: the brothel. Now the grief-stricken Nom-yi takes on a new role as her procurer. Hwang becomes epic in scope, when Nom-yi essentially becomes a socialist revolutionary, while his true love precariously finesses the local lord, finding respect for her mind, despite selling her body.

Hwang Jin-yi, now Myung-wol, shows true grit in her time of existential crisis. While it might be difficult to believe a child of privilege could walk from such a life so easily, Song Hye-kyo sells it. Known for lighter roles in Korea, she shows real screen presence in this iconic role. It is her relationship with Nom-yi (played by Yoo Ji-tae, director of Out of My Intention, who is quite credible in his actions scenes) that at times stretches credibility. It was he after all, who revealed her secret, for reasons that seem tortured.

Hwang is notable as an example of South-North collaboration. It is adapted from a North Korean novel and its final scene was filmed in a mountainous province of the DPRK. So it is difficult not to hear traces of Northern propaganda when Nom-yi speaks of establishing a community without class distinctions where nobody starves (though that would be worlds away from the brutal North Korean reality).

With its lavish production values, Hwang looks great and features a fantastic lead performance. It would make for interesting viewing if ever programmed with similar themed films like the recent Japanese film Sakuran, although the stakes are considerably higher in Hwang. It screens again Sunday at BAM.

NYKFF: Going By the Book

Nice guys finish with a bag full of cash and a bank full of hostages. At least, that is how it looks for Jung Do-man. No good deed goes unpunished for this tragically honest cop in Going By the Book (Korean trailer here), screening during the NY Korean Film Festival.

Once a detective, Jung Do-man got himself busted down to traffic patrolman for daring to investigate the corrupt local provincial governor. He even has the bad fortune of ticketing the new police chief on his first day on the job. Of course, Jung Do-man writes it up—unless ordered differently he does everything strictly according to Hoyle.

That might be annoying, but it convinces the new Chief he is the right cop to play robber in an elaborate training exercise he is planning. Their sleepy backwater has suffered a rash of bank heists recently, so with the cooperation of the banks, the Chief instructs his force one of their own will attempt a bank job. They will have no idea how, but it will be their job to stop it. He knows Jung Do-man will take the assignment seriously enough to put on a good show for the media, which is what this exercise is really for.

Unfortunately, Jung Do-man does not understand that. Ordered to hold up a bank, he proceeds to do just that. So when a colleague approaches, he shoots him in the head. It was only a blank of course, but he is dead to the training game. At first the Chief is pleased to see Jung Do-man make a good show of it, but when he disables the cameras and lowers the shutters, he realizes he has an embarrassing situation on his hands, with an amused media enjoying the spectacle. Suddenly the hypothetical bodies are piling up with no end in sight.

Book puts a new twist on the hostage crisis story and makes the most of it. In truth, there are story holes all over the place, but it does not matter. The film is inventive enough to just keep careening over them. While watching Book, it seemed like a movie ripe for an American remake, but upon reflection it probably would not be credible in an American context. Book is dependent on its characters strictly observing the rules of the exercise. Most would expect American cops to take Jung Do-man out, whatever the rules, once the department started suffering public embarrassment.

Jang Jin’s script is quite clever. At times it treads close to some dark places, but it always pulls back just in time to maintain its brisk comedic spirit. Director La Hee-chan keeps things zipping along nicely and Jeong Jae-young is perfect as Jung Do-man, the straight-man who takes over the joke of a training exercise. Book is a very entertaining film that should prove a crowd pleaser if it is picked up for further American distribution. It screens again during the NYKFF on Monday at the Cinema Village and Saturday at BAM.

NYKFF: Out of My Intention (Short)

For suburban drivers, long commutes can be dehumanizing. You might be surrounded by people in traffic, yet hermetically sealed in your car. When traffic is bad, you are even denied the illusion of forward motion. At least that seems to be the case for the unnamed protagonist of Yoo Ji-tae’s Out of My Intention, which screened as part of the NY Korean Film Festival’s short film program.

Traffic is bad, but Lee Dae-yeon’s commuter is in no particular hurry to get home. He would rather face the recriminations of Ok-kyung, his ex-girlfriend, or at least his memories of her. Intention starts as a memory play before veering into the experimental terrain of dreamscapes and the dark recesses of the subconscious. Strangely enough, it is a trip accompanied by an often jazz-influenced soundtrack, composed by Cho Young-wuk.

While the initial music we hear is basically mood music, as the man at the wheel descends into himself, the audience hears sounds reminiscent of groovy 1960’s bachelor pad-style jazz, featuring vibes and electric guitar. It seems wildly out of place, yet there is a dark undercurrent below the effervescence of the vibes. Cho’s score is oddly successful in facilitating the on-screen disorientation taking place. It makes one curious about the musicians who played on it, (but the ending credits were no help to me).

Yoo is better known as an actor in Korea, but he shows an interesting visual sense in Intention. He also gets convincing performances from his actors, with Lee emoting much, but expressing little. Conversely, Cho An has a very showy role, yet must remain a cipher to viewers.

At just over twenty-four minutes Intention is long enough to bear some analysis. While its surreal imagery can be puzzling, its lonely destination is dramatically effective. It is part of a carefully curated short film program that has two more blocks running Monday night at Cinema Village.