Norman Mineta and His Legacy: An American Story

When the airport is named after you, do you still have to take your belt and shoes off when going through security? Norman Mineta would know (as in the Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport), but he is probably a TSA Known Traveler anyway. The former Congressman, San Jose Mayor, and five-year Transportation Secretary (still the longest serving) is also one of the last American politicians with a history of bipartisan outreach, so it is fitting both sides of the aisle are represented in Dianne Fukami’s Norman Mineta and His Legacy: An American Story, which airs this Monday on participating PBS stations across the country.

Mineta was second generation Nisei Japanese-American, born to the first generation Issei Japanese-Americans, who were legally denied citizenship most of their lives. Quite logically, the Japanese internment casts a long shadow over the film, first when chronicling his experiences in the Heart Mountain camp outside Cody, Wyoming and then reporting his successful efforts to pass legislation officially apologizing and redressing the systemic relocation mandated by Roosevelt.

Ironically, that is also where the film starts to get bipartisan, because a young Alan Simpson, the future Wyoming senator, was a member of the only local Boy Scout troop that attended events at the camp. A fast friendship developed between the two scouts, which they continued as pen pals until reuniting in congress. Naturally, Simpson shepherded Mineta’s House legislation through the Senate (after which, Pres. Reagan signed it into law). It is just nice to see Mineta and Simpson appear together in the film, still carrying on like the old pals that they are.

Yet, probably the one politician who gets the most time in Mineta’s doc besides Mineta himself is Pres. George W. Bush, who appointed him Secretary of Transportation, even though Mineta is a Democrat. We also hear from Clinton, who tapped him to fill a short vacancy at the Commerce Department, but Bush has much more interesting things to say (regarding September 11^th and bipartisanship).

Legacy is a conventional, straight-over-the-plate documentary, but it has an inclusive spirit and significant talking heads. (Look for former Rep. Dan Lungren for further Republican interest.) Sadly, you will not find many members of Mineta’s party left in Congress who can have a civil conversation with Republicans (and vice versa).

Indeed, there is a lot to learn from Mineta. Rather tellingly, he does not simply frame the Japanese internment policy as a stain on the national character. He also points to it as a rare example when a country admitted its mistakes and sought to make amends. It’s a good point. Recommended as one of the increasingly rare political documentaries with a positive message, Norman Mineta and His Legacy screens this Monday (5/20) on PBS outlets, including WNET in the Tri-State Area, and Tuesday and Wednesday (5/21 & 5/22) on the World Channel.

Fighting Mad: Laurin

Even compared to John Hughes movies, the adults in this Gothic German film are a flawed lot. They are stern, judgmental, emotionally distant, and often just plain absent. Plus, one of them is a serial killer preying on children. Frankly, there is no guarantee the titular nine-year-old character will live to adulthood herself in Robert Sigl’s Laurin, which screens during Fighting Mad: German Genre Films from the Margins, co-programmed by Dominik Graf and presented at the Quad, in conjunction with the Graf retrospective coming soon to Anthology Film Archives.

This should be an idyllic time for Laurin Andersen, but she is haunted by the memory, or hallucination, of the killer’s latest victim knocking on her window for help on the night he was killed. As fate would have it, her mother Flora was also murdered that night, when she stumbled across the mystery maniac while disposing of his latest victim. Rather inconceivably, her beloved father Arne ships out as scheduled, shortly thereafter, leaving her in the care of her strict, alcoholic grandmother. It rather follows that Laurin now suspects the killer is now out to get her—and maybe he is.

The vibe of Laurin is hazily gothic, but the German language and the Teutonic characters give the film a harder edge. Her childhood is really shaping up to be pretty awful, but it is hard to judge with certainty what is real and what is illusion or delusion during the course of the film. There are not a lot of overt horror elements, but the film is absolutely drenched atmosphere and foreboding. In terms of the period look and trappings, it compares favorably with the best of Hammer Horror films.

Dora Szinetar has the perfect look for Laurin—hugely vulnerable but maybe not entirely innocent. She definitely keeps viewers guessing regarding her reliability as the central vantage point character. Karoly Eperjes also gives a subtle but decidedly genre-appropriate performance as Van Rees, the new school master, who is haunted by his similarly awful childhood. The two develop a weird rapport that really elevates the film.

Although it was released in 1989, Laurin is a perfect film to revisit/rediscover in light of the boom in interest for horror-not-horror films like Robert Eggers’ The Witch, which, in fact, would be quite an apt comparison title. It is a slow, but creepy build that capitalizes on a lot of commonly held, archetypal childhood fears, buried deep within our collective subconscious. Highly recommended, Laurin screens this afternoon and this coming Tuesday (5/21), as part of the German genre series at the Quad.

Raul Ruiz’s The Wandering Soap Opera

You have to give the Chilean auteur Raul Ruiz credit for being so admirably prolific in death. Night Across the Street released shortly after his demise, whereas Ruiz’s wife and frequent collaborator Valeria Sarmiento used his pre-production work to helm The Lines of Wellington, taking sole directorial credit. His “latest” film is more of a rediscovery. Unlike suspiciously posthumous novels released years after the supposed author’s death, Ruiz helmed these satirical interconnected vignettes at the peak of his powers in 1990, so Sarmiento only had to edit them together per his intentions. The hardest part was finding the lost film of the experimental workshop sessions. Your feelings on experimental workshops will be a strong indicator of how much or how little you will enjoy Ruiz’s The Wandering Soap Opera when it opens today in New York.

Soap Opera was filmed in 1990, when Ruiz returned to Chile during the early days of the democratic reforms. Not surprisingly, there are political references littered throughout the film, but many will be stubbornly murky for outsiders to interpret. On the other hand, most of the comedy sending up the conventions and clichés of telenovelas is easy to get. Essentially, the figures we see on screen are mostly characters on telenovelas, but some are telenovela characters who are watching other telenovelas characters. In one case, the telenovela is even interrupted by an actress asking the characters how she could get cast to be on their show.

This all sort of gives the film a Russian doll structure, but it lacks the Borgesian bravura of Guy Maddin’s The Forbidden Room or even Ruiz’s masterful Mysteries of Lisbon. It also logically follows that some mini-arcs will be stronger than others. By far the funniest sequence chronicles an endless cycle of rival leftist rebels killing each other and issuing stilted statements, before getting gunned down in turn. However, there are several sequences involving overwrought middle-aged characters (often former political exiles) sitting around parlors exchanging purple dialogue that start to blend together.

Not surprisingly, there is an off-the-cuff raggedness to Wandering that is part of its charm. It was a time of change. Ruiz and his cast and crew were obviously delighted to have the opportunity to work together and address issues of exile, resistance, and religion openly. It is just somewhat surprising they did not have more to say.

Even though it only runs a modest 78 minutes, a little of Wandering goes a long way. After 40 minutes, most viewers will get everything there is to get. There are amusing moments sprinkled throughout, but it is definitely a decidedly uneven viewing experience. Those with mainstream tastes and preferences should be strongly cautioned: The Wandering Soap Opera is only for patrons of the avant-garde who will forgive its excesses for the sake of its politics. Recommended for the one-percent of the population that loves to use the term “one-percent” derisively, The Wandering Soap Opera opens today (5/17) in New York, at Anthology Film Archives.

Tribeca '19: Charlie Says---At Criminal Element

He gave crazy a bad name during a time of craziness. Exclusive Tribeca review of Charlie Says now up here.

Hamaguchi’s Asako I & II

Nobody likes to hear about their partners ex, but it is especially weird for Ryohei Maruko, because Asako Izumiya previously dated his doppelganger, a handsome flake by the name of Baku Torii. It was a hard break-up for her, but if given half a chance, Maruko could be an affectionate and supportive rebound. Izumiya’s two relationships with the same (but different) man are chronicled in Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Asako I & II, which opens tomorrow in New York, at the Metrograph.

Izumiya and Torii meet cutely and quickly become passionately involved. He is a bit of a weirdo, but she is somewhat shy, so nobody’s perfect. He promises he will always return to her, even when he roams off impulsively. However, guess what? A few years later, Izumiya is working at a Tokyo coffee shop when she happens to meet Maruko, a hard-working sake marketer. He is the spitting image of Torii but his style is more conservative and his personality is considerably more earnest and grounded.

At first, Izumiya wants nothing to do with Maruko, but he and fate are persistent. Perhaps the need for human connection during 3/11 helps bring them together. Regardless, they definitely become an item, but Torii is still out there somewhere—and even Izumiya isn’t sure what that means for her and Maruko.

With its two-part structure and doppelganger premise, Asako I & II has some of the elements and vibe of a pre-scandal Hong Sang-soo movie. There is also similar levels of raging neuroses and a decent amount of drinking. However, AI&II resonates on a much deeper emotional level. It really taps into very human fears and angsts regarding the certainty of love and the possibility of betrayal.

Masahiro Higashide is quite remarkable giving two distinctly different performances as Maruko and Torii. The former is painfully reserved, yet viewers are always keenly aware of his emotional state. On the flip side, convincingly portrays Torii’s roguish charm and problematic eccentricities. Izumiya is even more socially awkward, but Erika Karata’s portrayal makes her mindset and utterly open book. Despite Izumiya’s frustrating decisions and the showcase role[s] for Higashide, AI&II could be described as a women’s film, in large measure due to the acerbic but down-to-earth performances of Rio Yamashita and Sairi Ito as Izumiya’s friends, Maya Suzuki and Haruyo Shima, respectively.

Arguably, Asako I & II reveals Hamaguchi as the missing link that connects Hong Sang-soo and Shunji Iwai. You may think you have seen plenty of relationship dramas already, but this one still holds a number of surprises. Very highly recommended, Asako I & II opens tomorrow (5/17) at the Metrograph.

Tribeca ’19: Crown Vic

For decades, Ford Motors has been the unchallenged dominant manufacturer of police cars. The Crown Victoria Police Interceptor was the primary reason why. They had a powerful V8, easy handling, and were cheap to repair. It is easy to figure why taxi owners liked to buy the decommissioned cruisers. The LAPD is now phasing out the classic four-door, probably replacing them with hybrids constructed with recycled plastic and good intentions. Officer Ray Mandel is old school when it comes to cars and everything else. His trainee will also appreciate having the Interceptor’s crash-resistant body out in front of them during his long, dark first night on the job in Joel Souza’s Crown Vic, which premiered at the 2019 Tribeca Film Festival.

Mandel will not haze Nick Holland per se, but he definitely gives him plenty of snark and bark. Rather remarkably, Holland has never seen any action, even though he transferred from Oakland. He is about to get what he asked for, in full force. The night starts with some comically ugly cases, but it will get progressively darker. Mandel might be flexible when it comes to details, but he isn’t crooked. The same cannot be said with confidence of Jack VanZandt, a steroid-raging undercover cop who will be riding in Mandel’s zone this fateful night.

Yes, of course you are thinking Training Day for obvious reasons. However, Mandel will go maverick in very different ways than Denzel Washington did. In fact, we are largely willing to follow him, because of all the escalating hassles and mayhem Souza puts them through. Of course, it defies logic that the two cops could be involved in so many incidents, several of which involving shots fired, without bothering with any reports whatsoever. However, Souza’s narrative is intended as a microcosmic depiction of every that can possibly go wrong in a cop’s night, so go with it.

Thomas Jane has done some interesting work lately in films like 1922 and Before I Wake, but this is still a showcase for him that will surprise people. Somehow, he manages to be simultaneously ferocious and subtle as the hardboiled Mandel. Jane sets off so many fireworks, he largely overshadows Luke Kleintank as freaked out Holland, but he makes the most of it when his rookie character snaps. Josh Hopkins is a spectacular mess as VanZandt, starting out completely off the rails and constantly careening further out of control, while David Krumholtz is quite a creepy little weasel as his bad news partner.

Souza and company do not necessarily want us to be reassured by the prospect of cops like Mandel on the street, but they do try to help us understand their reality. They endure a lot of stress and danger for very little thanks. The Interceptor keeps rolling, but it is a tense ride, which cinematographer Thomas Scott Stanton shoots with the perfect Edward Hopper-from-Hell late-night light and shadow. Highly recommended for fans of cop movies, Crown Vic will definitely come back around after premiering at this year’s Tribeca.

Ashes in the Snow: Deported to Siberia

They call it the Great Patriotic War, but for the Soviet Union, it was really about territorial conquest—even after Hitler broke the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. Just ask the Baltic nationals who were imprisoned in Siberian gulags. Of course, the prisoners had to be guarded by NKVD troops, diverting them from the war against the Axis. Lina Vilkas and her family are among the waves of Lithuanians rounded up and deported during Marius A. Markevicius’ Ashes in the Snow, which releases today on DVD.

Vilkas should have been in art school rather than a work camp. She had talent, but she was Lithuanian. Unfortunately, the NKVD learned her father had supported the underground resistance, thereby landing his entire family in the gulag. Through sheer luck, Vilkas manages to stay with her mother, younger brother, and potential boyfriend during the transit, but they fear the worst for her father. They also worry over her sickly young brother, because he is not likely to survive without medicine and better rations. Her mother reluctantly accepts some handouts from Nikolai Kretzsky, a NKVD guard who is regularly bullied by his comrades, because he is half Ukrainian. However, she makes it clear he will never get what he wants.

As a chronicle of gulag survival, Ashes is a little to too clean and palatable. Markevicius (who previously helmed the terrific documentary The Other Dream Team and produced The Way Back) and screenwriter Ben York Jones certainly wanted to present the truth of the Soviet camps, but it looks like the proper resources were lacking. On the other hand, the film presents a cogently biting commentary on the nature of power through the characters of Kretzsky and the ruthless commandant, Komarov. In fact, it is absolutely chilling to watch Kretzsky slowly but steadily become that which he most despises.

Peter Franzen radiates menace as the cruel and manipulative Komarov, but Martin Wallström is even more chilling as the increasingly soulless Kretzsky. Watching the slow disintegration of his persona vividly illustrates why some people willingly accept oppression and degradation. It is terrific work, but alas, the same cannot be said of Bel Powley’s central performance as Lina Vilkas. The hard truth is Powley is simply flat and lifeless on-screen. Admittedly, that would make sense for Vilkas after the months and years have worn her down, but she is like this right from the start (and during flashbacks).

Time and again, Ashes visually echoes the imagery of holocaust dramas, such as the over-stuffed cattle cars, screaming camp guards, and the spartan, over-crowded barracks. Ultimately, Markevicius is undercut by insufficient resources and a weak lead but he still makes some salient points about the nature of statist regimes. It is smart and insightful, despite feeling small in scope. Recommended for younger, general audiences, Ashes in the Snow releases today (5/14) on DVD.