"Mistakes, obviously, show us what needs improving." - Peter McWilliams. Days 2-4 of the Minneapolis Epigonic Festival

I'll try and keep my criticisms of the festival machinations limited to blog title this time. Instead let's talk about some good and bad celluloid.

Day 2

Towards Zero (2007) -- I do not have the ability to convey how excited I was to see this Pascal Thomas film as part of the film festival. I do not know that anything Thomas has done has ever made it overseas from France, and he has worked several times with a favorite comedian of mine, Catherine Frot. She doesn't appear in this film, but Towards Zero is based on a novel by Agatha Christie, much like Thomas' outings with Frot (By the Pricking of My Thumbs - 2005; Crime Is Our Business - 2008). Starring French film favorites Melvil Poupaud, Chiara Mastroianni and Danielle Darrieux, Towards Zero is a comedic murder mystery that starts out with several seemingly unrelated story lines (a man attempting suicide; a policeman's daughter fessing up to a crime she did not commit) before our main characters are introduced in a seaside mansion for a less than desirable reunion. Darrieux plays the old spinster owning the mansion and she has invited her nephew, his new sex-pot wife that no one likes and her nephew's ex-wife, Mastroianni. You can only imagine the ensuing tensions, building up to a cresendo that ends in Darrieux's murder and an entertaining romp of twists and tangles. Laura Smet as Poupaud's volatile vixen of a wife puts in an entertaining turn here, stealing nearly every scene she is in (much like her presence as an extremely mentally unbalanced young woman in Claude Chabrol's interesting thriller, The Bridesmaid - 2004). I suppose I will acquiesce -- no matter what mistakes I experienced at the film festival, I am truly appreciative that I had the opportunity to see this in a theater. Beautiful cinematography, a bustling script and some expert French players make this entertaining fare. If you like Poupaud, be sure to catch him in Broken Flowers (2007) and Time to Leave (2005); Darrieux's old as dirt (and a French film staple by now), but check her out in 8 Women (2002), and the daughter of Catherine Deneuve and Marcello Mastroianni, Chiara, be sure to catch her in Les Chansons D'Amour (2007) and A Christmas Tale (2008), the latter also stars Poupaud.

Day 3

The Girl From Monaco (2008) -- I had the opportunity to see Anne Fontaine's newest effort in Toronto, but due to quite a few lackluster reviews I avoided it, thinking I would have a different opportunity to see the film. As chance would have it, I caught it here and am glad that I had avoided it in Toronto. I've been meaning to sit down and watch Fontaine's 2003 film Nathalie... due to my love for Fanny Ardant, so this was my first experience with her. What starts off as a light-hearted comedy turns strangely dark and unhumorous, but not in any intriguing sort of way. Starring Fabrice Luchini as Bertrand, a lawyer defending his client Edith Lassalle (played by the once gorgeous Stephane Audran, who isn't given room to do much of anything) who has committed the vicious murder of a young gigolo. (Let me mention here that Luchini is either engaged or married to Fontaine). Enter Bertrand's bodyguard, (the always entertaining Roschdy Zem) sent in to guard Bertrand due to the Russian mob's involvement in the case (apparently the slain gigolo was Russian). The best parts of the film are in the first half between these two characters. Then enter the titular girl, Audrey (newcomer Louise Bourgoin), who, from the moment she steps on screen as the local weather girl in Monaco, I knew I would hate. Louise is, most refreshingly, an uncompromising slut. I found little else to like about her (though she's gorgeous) and was continually flabbergasted and disgusted at her sexcapades with the very aged and homely Luchini. Anyhow, Audrey ends up becoming obsessed with Bertrand, so much so that it's jeopardizing his current high profile case. Needless, to say, things don't end well, but there's really no reason for them to end the way they do. Thankfully, the Grace Kelly references are kept to a minimum (though Audrey has a strange fascination with Princess Di) but the conclusion will leave you scratching your head, as I felt more of a strange bros before hos type of vibe from the whole thing. Interestingly, the director's a woman, but that doesn't make me want to say this is great cinema. I suppose I was most intrigued by this film's similarities to Chabrol's 2007 offering, A Girl Cut In Two, which centers around the sexploits of a French weather girl, played by Ludivine Sagnier. See that instead.

Helen (2008) -- Yes, one of three films from 2007-2008 named Helen, Minneapolis received one of those three. Once I discovered what the actual screening was going to be about, I was intrigued by the plot, which concerns the disappearance of a girl named Joy and the police reenactment that casts a slightly disturbed girl named Helen as the missing girl. Some interesting themes concerning identity surface throughout the film, but it seems to reach only one hypnotic note that eventually becomes mind-numbing and repetitive. Helen meets Joy's boyfriend and her parents, etc, and as Helen resembles Joy (and lives in a sort of girls' home as her parents gave her up for adoption) it's easy to conclude that Helen is still discovering who she is exactly, etc. Nice atmospheric music and an interesting but extremely subtle (read this as borderline dull) performance by newcomer Annie Townsend make this an intriguing, though not entirely compelling feature.

Day 4

Rumba (2008) --- The second feature from Belgian couple Dominique Abel and Fiona Gordon (who I am guessing are playing variations of themselves, as their characters are Dom and Fiona), are also the stars of their new film as married teachers that happen to have a passion for the Rumba, competing at various competitions. Late one night after a successful competition, the couple are involved in an accident as they veer off the road to avoid hitting a man attempting suicide. Fiona loses her leg and Dom his memory. Major hijinks ensue, and with a film driven by physical comedy with hardly any dialogue (though a scene where the two sing "Sea of Love" to each other right before their house burns down is quite touching) it becomes a bit tedious even with a running time of 77 minutes. Aiming for a Jacques Tati experience is a feat indeed, and I suppose I feel like Dom & Fiona aren't quite that entertaining. As a couple they are extremely strange looking, indeed. Dom looks like some sort of wiry, hungry creature (maybe a lemur) that escaped from a zoo, while Fiona looks like the chinless, special-needs cousin of Tilda Swinton. That's not to say that they weren't strangely endearing---they made me feel like I should be less critical of them than I would be under normal circumstances.

"Hell is an outrage on humanity." - Victor Hugo. So is the Minneapolis Film Festival

Darling readers---I try hard, I do, to convey to one and all that I am not your run-of-the-mill pretentious arthouse asshole. I don't love Godard simply because he's Godard, or Hitchcock simply because, yada yada. And a vintage wine that's been fermented just right? Well, hell, if it's bitter I'll be sure to voice my opinion (perhaps discreetly, but voice I will). I know, I know, sometimes you might not be in the mood to wade through my waxing prologues, so eager you are to get to the tootsie roll nougat of my blog (as compared to similar film blogs), to experience the intense education of good or bad recent cinematic releases, experiencing, what I can only imagine for you, must be equivalent to using a ribbed condom versus an unribbed. Perhaps you could say I am good at ribbing, muahhh. Needless to say, without further ado, having attended the prestigious Toronto film festival twice now (and a coming third this September, Hallelujah!) I could not help but condemn the impotent, incompetent, and miserably inexperienced staff behind the debacle that was known as the 27th Minneapolis Film Festival. For some reason people credit Saint Paul in there as well but since no film screenings are shown for the festival in Saint Paul I will refrain from doing so. The two cities are less like twins and more like distant cousins, so I am continually baffled as to why we insist on connecting the two like Chang and Eng Bunker. If you are attracted to a life style resembling a dead vault (to use my grandmother's verbiage), you live in Saint Paul. Enough said.

Getting to my point, I don't wish to sound pretentious, but I am pretty serious about film. As the festival ends tonight, I will have seen 17 films altogether at this film festival. That's pretty serious, considering I didn't take vacation time and retained a regular gym schedule. Thank Jeebus that my lovely boyfriend humors me and a raucous thanks to him for attending as many movies as he did with me! Anyhow, so all of my "reviews" aren't marred with the bitter tears (like Petra Von Kant) let me just give you a rundown of a few fuckups at the fest.

1). So, in choosing my films ahead of time while they were announced on the fest's website, I was interested in a film called Helen. This film, purportedly, was the Helen that screened in 2009's Sundance film festival starring Ashley Judd in another mentally ill type role (I found a strange respect for Judd after Bug - 2006). So, I bought an advance ticket online. After my first night at the fest, I heard rumblings of showtimes being switched around. Not taking it too seriously, but serious cinephile that I am, I checked the website just to be sure the day I was to see Helen. Much to my chagrin, I discovered that the Judd Helen wasn't screening. No, my little darlings, a different film called Helen from Ireland was the film that the fest had acquired. To me, that's a pretty irritating fuck up. Not to mention that all the computer's crashed on the first night of the festival, so even though I had purchased tickets online, there was still an hour wait to get tickets....but, I wasn't bitter yet....not until

2) So, fifth night of the film festival, I'm scheduled to see two films. Let me preface this---the Minneapolis Film Festival is comprised of A) Films from 2007 and 2008 that have already screened at several more prestigious film festivals or B) Films that already have distributors and are actually in the process of being released in major cities very shortly. So, for Option B films, you could see them in a month's time without nary a soul near you inside an independent theater or be packed into a sardine can screening with a bunch of jolly geriatrics. You decide. That being said, nearly every screening I have attended has started at least 15 minutes late. Not okay. Back to the narrative, the fifth night I was scheduled to see Abdel Kechiche's The Secret of the Grain (2007) and a Russian film I have been following since it appeared on the festival circuit late 2007, Mermaid. Now, the first film was scheduled for 6:45 and is 150 minutes. My next screening was for 9:30 at the same venue, so it would be done just in time, right? Well, no. First, the film started 15 minutes late, which didn't get my dander up, really, since I figured this trend would extend to my second feature. Wrong. Not only did the first film start late (due to the large volume of people attending the screening---for a film that had already opened in major cities due to it already having distribution with IFC films--joke is on me at this point) but a good 45 minutes into the film, a DVD error flashed across the screen, and the film started over from the beginning. Needless to say, the "projectionist" or shall we say "remote control professional" had to fast forward the DVD to where the disc error had occurred. Can you fucking believe that? Projecting from a DVD screener? Not only that, I heard through a lovely grapevine that the team behind the festival refuses to clarify which screenings are being projected like this as they're afraid people wouldn't buy tickets if they knew the film was being projected from a DVD. Shame the fuck on you, Minneapolis Film Festival. Ironically, Mermaid started on time. So I missed the first 15 minutes. And then, tragedy struck again, as someone wasn't available to change the reel and the film stopped half way through, and when it was resurrected there was no sound for a good amount of time. That same mistake happened in six additional screenings I attended, leading the vapid volunteers that introduce the films to comically solicit our sympathies with lines like "with over a 100 films being shown, mistakes are to be expected." Well, if you're showing 100 movies in one day, yes. But in this case, the number of mistakes at this many screenings I found to be, well, unforgivable, unprofessional, and just plain pathetic. While I am thankful for the cinema I was fortunate to see with the festival, I would recommend that anyone involved with a film festival should know what the real deal is supposed to look like. This festival was run like a lemonade stand where the children have run out of sugar to add to their lemonade mix. I don't care if it's half price because you're out of sugar--do it right or don't do it at all.

Day 1:

Just Another Love Story (2007) --- What may stand as one of my favorite films at the festival, and a welcome introduction to an amazing Danish filmmaker, Ole Bornedal, is his latest offering, a sort of neo-noir with a delicious climax. Jonas (Anders W. Berthelsen), a dull, married, homicide scene photographer, accidentally involves a woman on the run in a fatal car accident, which sends her into a coma. Feeling responsible for her dilemma, Jonas visits Julia in the hospital, and doesn't have the cajones to tell her family the truth, but instead poses as her boyfriend, Sebastian, who Julia's family know by name but have never met. Julia awakens from her coma suffering from amnesia and Jonas becomes obsessed with this secretive alternate identity he's stumbled upon. Leaving his wife, the pieces all start to come together as Julia's memory (and vision) begin to return and culminate in an extremely satisfying ending that runs like While You Were Sleeping (1995) spliced with 40's noir. Immediately after seeing this I obtained a copy of Bornedal's other 2007 release, The Substitute, starring Danish film stars Ulrich Thompsen and Paprika Steen, about a substitute teacher who is really an alien sent to earth to study and kidnap schoolchildren in order to discover the one quality that makes humans unique in the universe. Excellent filmmaking all around---I look forward to more from Bornedal.

Surveillance (2008) -- My second feature on the fest's first day was a mixed bag, but I loved it nonetheless. My poor boyfriend wasn't entirely impressed, but he came away enjoying Bill Pullman's fun performance in Jennifer Chambers Lynch's first feature since her infamously campy cinematic debut in 1993, Boxing Helena. Since Lynch is the daughter of my man, David (who was also executive producer on this feature) my interest was peaked, though I had low expectations. Concerning two FBI agents (Bill Pullman, Julia Ormond) who are tracking a cross-country serial killer who has just killed several people in Santa Fe, nothing, of course, is what it seems. With a strange and twisted comic edge that runs throughout (due to the presence of comedians like French Stewart, Cheri Oteri, and a hilarious turn from Pell James--who was in one of Zodiac's more disturbing scenes) I fell in love with Ms. Lynch's second offering. Granted, it's a little Twin Peaks-ey, and the ending could have been a bit better, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. While the twist may be anything but surprising and the pacing a bit languid, if you're patient, you may enjoy it. Definitely strange, and to be daring, perhaps downright Lynchian.

Sunday, May 3, 2009: Toshio Matsumoto's "Funeral Parade of Roses" (1969)

Hello to one, hell to all, sorry I haven't returned your call, but I have recently been preoccupied with a strange succession of film screenings masquerading as a film festival in my native Minneapolis. Oh, we try real hard, dontcha know. More than five films playing at one time, by golly, it's so hard to keep track of, sheesh. Alright, alright, I'll stop with my leaden-lined praise for the Minneapolis scene and get to doing one of my favorite activities---announcing another movie screening! We've been recently meeting about once a month and I hope to get back on the every other Sunday schedule soon! But for this Sunday, May 3rd, there will be a film screening of Toshio Matsumoto's controversial but oft-unseen film Funeral Parade of Roses (1969). Matsumoto's work remains largely unseen in the US as his films have yet to be distributed on DVD---wily cat that I am, I have the R2 release. Roses relates the story of Eddie, a Japanese transvestite, queering the Oedpial tragedy by sleeping with his father and murdering his mother. The film is hailed as a personal favorite of Stanley Kubrick's. Legend has it that Kubrick borrowed some of this film's techniques for A Clockwork Orange (1971). Part drama, and apparently part horror film, I proudly present Matsumoto's neglected classic at 7PM, Sunday, May 3rd. Come one, come all, come dumplings and potstickers.....

The Haunting In Connecticut: Yes, Virginia, There Is a Demon

You know, I am aware of that whole quality not quantity sort of rationale, however, as the amount of films I watch surpasses the amount of time I have to pontificate poetically about each and every one, to catch up seems a bit daunting. Hence, my DVD reviews will be anything but extraordinary, and in most cases, will read as trite and unimpressive. And hopefully I can get to them soon! Otherwise, here's the rundown on some recent releases. C'est la vie. L'amour, l'amour!



Observe & Report (2009) -- Destined to be one of the more misunderstood films of 2009, the new black comedy starring Seth Rogen and my gal Anna Faris is right up my alley. Dark, strange, and somewhat disturbing, I can see why the film isn't resonating with the majority of Rogen's fanbase. Rogen plays a pathetic, delusional mall cop suffering from bi-polar disorder and some seriously disturbing grandiose ideations, and who is in love with Brandi (Faris), the make-up kiosk girl. An anonymous flasher has been exposing himself to young women in the mall parking lot and eventually targets Brandi (who Faris imbues with all her insane talent as a horrifically vacuous tramp). Ray Liotta stars as the detective called in on the case, much to the chagrin of Rogen. As the film progresses, Rogen's mental state unravels rapidly, causing some funny, though realistically dark scenarios. Observe & Report has been compared to Taxi Driver (1974), and rightly so. A small time nobody with delusions of grandeur? Oh, for sure. I'd say the limited course of Faris and Rogen's relationship is even comparable to the Cybil Shepard/Robert De Niro dynamics in Taxi Driver. Whereas most of the empty-headed comedies from Rogen and co. may be entertaining, I found this new effort tinged with a different energy--relating to the desperation and the dark nature of a human existence trapped inside that microcosmic cess pool humans refer to as the shopping mall. Celia Weston co-stars as Rogen's very funny but very alcoholic mother. Three scenes that made me fall in love with the film: the infamous date rape scene with Anna Faris; the scene in slow motion of Rogen chasing the flasher to a cover of the Pixies, and the scene directly preceding it involving what Rogen does to the flasher. I'm saddened by the poor box office results as it's truly refreshing to see something a bit more challenging in main stream cinemas. The film is destined, I believe, to become a cult favorite, with numerous discussions to come. A line from the film that many critics have pointed out sums up the film, "I thought this was going to be funny, but it's just kind of sad," describes the film perfectly---what's more sad is Americans are unable to enjoy the surprise and genius of it. Directed by Jody Hill of The Foot Fist Way (2006).



Adventureland (2009) -- Another recent comedy I wasn't expecting to enjoy based on how I felt about director Greg Mottola's previous over-the-top 2007 comedy Superbad, was this latest offering starring Jesse Eisenberg (of The Squid and the Whale - 2005 and Roger Dodger - 2002) and an actress I had written off as dull and tweeny, Kristen Stewart of Twilight (2008) and The Messengers (2007). I found Eisenberg and Stewart's chemistry awkward, realistic and heartfelt, set inside the endless possibilities of a post-college graduate's late 80's summer in a second rate amusement park. The majority of the film is extremely loveable and nostalgic--only faltering in the last ten minutes or so when some awkward chords are struck when Eisenberg follows Stewart to NYC. Perhaps this could have played better with just a little more time spent on developing their situation at this point, because as it is, the ending, though clearly showing us the couple as tenuous at best, still feels a little rushed and formulaic. I have a feeling my Kristen Stewart irritation will return once the Twilight sequel is spooged all over our cinema screens, however, for the moment, she's starring in an excellent little movie called Adventureland. Ryan Reynolds stars as himself (not in name). And I hate that goddamn Amadeus song, too.



The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (2008) -- What happens when a Pulitzer prize winning author's novel is adapted by a hack director? As prime evidence, this film. Immediately after leaving the theater I was all set to give Rawson Marshall Thurber credit for attempting to adapt Michael Chabon's first novel, but then I remembered that Wonder Boys (2000) was also a Chabon novel adapted for the screen and that was excellent. And directed by the experienced Curtis Hanson (who has his own missteps, but also gave us The Hand that Rocks the Cradle - 1992 and LA Confidential - 1997). So, maybe the director best known for Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story (2004) should have let someone else adapt Chabon's prose---but alas, it's all tainted with this miserable snoozer. As has been pointed out, the film plays something like a schizophrenic at a brothel---too many voices trying to spearfuck too many themes. The film has been described as a "bisexual coming-of-age story" concerning the exploits of post-graduate mobster's son in late 80's Pittsburgh. However, the bisexual angle is both unbelievable and feels like another element just thrown into the mixture. It's like meth--one more household chemical in the mix doesn't really matter, does it? Our main character, Art Bechstein, (languidly played by Jon Foster) has decided to avoid any responsibility his last summer of freedom before taking a job his estranged gangland dad (Nick Nolte --- looking like Fats, the evil ventriloquist dummy from Magic) has lined up for him. Taking a job at the Book Barn for the summer, Art begins sleeping with his poodley, tramp-gone-to-seed boss, Phlox (lovely name), played by the underrated Mena Suvari. Meanwhile, Art is introduced to Jane, played by the beautiful (and sometimes nondescript) Sienna Miller. Jane happens to have a crazy, gambling bisexual boyfriend, played with reckless abandon by the usually sterling Peter Sarsgaard. Miller's character is dull, passive, underdeveloped and stupid--there's absolutely no chemistry between her and Foster or her and Sarsgaard. The same goes for the eventual gay sex scene with Foster & Sarsgaard---it seems forced and unrealistic. Sarsgaard isn't half bad, but his messy bird-nest hair and dingy ill-fitting 80's regalia makes me think he'd smell something mighty strong. Kudos to Sarsgaard---this is the third film I've seen him playing an unabashed gay. But before you see this catch him in one of those films, Kinsey (2004) and The Dying Gaul (2005). From boy growing up, to three way bi-triangle, to mobster fueled gambling revenge---the film doesn't spend the right moments on any of it's major themes. If you want to see Miss Sienna in something good, catch Steve Buscemi's excellent remake of Theo Van Gogh's Interview (2007).



The Haunting In Connecticut (2009) -- As opposed to that more infamous haunting in Vermont (or even New Hampshire) the one haunting in the tiny little New England state, Connecticut, doesn't seem anywhere thrilling enough to make a film about. I was happy to see Virginia Madsen's career resurrected with her lovely performance in Sideways (2004), but several of her next projects, such as that awful thing called Firewall (2006) or The Number 23 (2007) will stand as dots on her resume that will come to resemble some of her 1980's work. Remember Gotham (1988) or Slam Dance (1987)? Ewww, I know. Anyhow, that one haunting in Connecticut seems more a point of reference and nothing more. It's like taking a true WWII account about the Holocaust and saying a brave team of Jewish German giraffes successfully challenged a group of Nazi officers in a minor standoff. To read of the supposed actual events sent more chills up my spine than this gobbleygook misadventure. Though I never really cared for Martin Donovan, his turn as a recovering alcoholic does provide some brief moments of hilarity in your otherwise standard demons not leaving a creepy old house motif. Oh, and then there's that proverbial good demon/ghost child that Elias Koteas (as a creepy cancer-stricken priest that either has ulterior motives for the Kyle Gallner character or just simply too much time on his hands) unwittingly removes from the house. Anyhow, if I was haunted by demons and the ensuing cinematic depiction was deemed worthy of a PG-13 rating, I'd be a bit annoyed. Oh man, you wouldn't believe the awful time I had with them demons! Thankfully they weren't seriously intent on destroying my soul, as would be required for an R rating. Children under the age of 17 must hear my story--they must learn and not be afraid of the quasi-harmful entities. Oh Virginia! Don't become like your brother.

Obsessed (2009) Speaking of shamelessly censoring a movie to land a PG-13 rating is the new Beyonce vehicle, a somewhat heavy rip off of late 1980's scorned woman thematics. Painfully obvious are parallels with Fatal Attraction (1987), but I would even point toward a borrowed sequence from The War of the Roses (1989) as well. Idris Elba ("The Wire") stars as an asset manager in a successful company that seems to have an attraction for lady secretaries. Temps are great-they're like migrant workers. He even married his last secretary, played with pigeonholed alacrity by Beyonce (Knowles, here--for the res). The couple is shown to be extremely happy together, so much so that Elba frowns on Beyonce going to school (even though she has questionable grammatical skills and what looks like a zapped fright wig waving all around like a lion's mane). But Ms. Knowles calls the shots, becoming alarmed at the news of another female temp stalking the office corridors like a cougar in heat. Elba is not allowed to have any females working under him. Healthy, healthy dynamics. I love that children are taught that these are normal and healthy relationship issues. Of course, Ali Larter as the mentally unbalanced blonde perp does encompass the "look like the innocent flower but be the serpent underneath"--which is much too literary to apply to a film like this, but I try. Of course, we never understand what exactly Larter's motivations are. Does she just like black men? Why does she become so fixated on Elba when his flirtation is very minor and seemingly appropriate? It's just a bit of a stretch since they've never slept together. Of course, these are all elements that never 'need' to make sense when your director only does television work and the only reason people are going to see the film is for the limited scorned wife played by pop music's current icon. The cat fight between the ladies is fun---but in the end, is unsatisfying. Perhaps a more independent production would have been able to play with some of the film's racial tensions/angles. But even the company employing Elba seemingly has no women in positions of power, perhaps the price paid to have a smarmy gay man as secretary lifer instead. The film, as would be expected, is full of holes. Beyond Larter's campy performance, it's one of those films you wondered why anyone bothered with at all. And then of course, there's the almost cameo of Christine Lahti that leaves some of us scratching our heads---though the scene where she hands Larter's diary depicting explicit sexual scenarios over to Elba and they obviously can't read them out loud due to the PG-13 rating was worth a chortle.

The Soloist (2009) --- I don't want to be too harsh with Joe Wright's newest feature, The Soloist, starring Kiera Knightley as a 40 year old black man with schizophrenia that just loves to play the violin AND the cello (oh wait, that IS Jamie Foxx!) Yes, the best part of Wright's newest feature, is, sadly, that he didn't cast England's blandest waif in the production. The other best part was the film's preview. I saw that preview multiple times over the span of the last few months (apparently this was supposed to open in November 2008), and the preview nearly brought tears to my eyes several times. The film, however, did not. Additonally, the preview had blatant differences from the film---the preview clearly has Catherine Keener stating "your friend is downstairs," while in the actual film she says "boyfriend." Though a joke, I guess we really didn't want a gay taint surrounding the racially diverse, schizophrenic buddy picture, now would we? Also left out of the film, but evident in the preview is Downey's melodramatic monologue concerning how he and Foxx are friends that take care of eachother, etc, etc. Strange. Foxx's performance is nothing short of brilliant, and he deserves applause. Downey Jr. is also solid as the journalist that rather exploits but befriends the homeless musician, eventually helping this man to get off the street. In the end, the film is a bit unfocused. We don't want to see Downey's journalist as exploiter, though he really is and then there's the whole dilemma about whether or not Foxx's character needs medication or simply a friend to love and understand him---though the film leans towards the latter. It's an interesting portrait of a friendship that's not stereotypical to Hollywood fare, but in the end, the film meanders into mediocrity. And I love the brilliant Catherine Keener, seen here in a wasted role as Downey's ex-wife. Mamma still lookin good, though.


NOW---I have been behind on things, but due to the wonderful messy miasma known colloquially as the Twin Cities Film Festival, I've been seeing (strangely enough) more films than usual. I should have a rundown of the festival up soon, which ends this week. And plenty of bitchy, scathing remarks, none of which are undeserved.

Knowing: Artifice of an Odious Actor

Knowing (2009) - I find Nicolas Cage to be one of the strangest, confounded, and downright unappealing box office draws in this country since Tom Cruise. The fact that he won an Oscar makes his presence seem even more repugnant. And I'm not just saying that because, especially with age, he has come to resemble a terribly botched transgender experiment (either that or an inbred hermaphroditic cousin of Ellen Degeneres). The man, simply put, cannot ACT. When you are in one of those adroitly named professions where your skills are imperative to the very title of what you're getting paid for, well, when you're unable to get the job done you shouldn't be getting work. Nicolas Cage is the ugly girl at the party that also has the shit personality---you have to make up for something, somewhere, catch my drift? Anyhow, the feeling in my gut leaving a screening of Knowing is how I'd imagine sports fans would feel if an overtly physically handicapped individual was appointed to an integral position on their favorite sports team---they were so close to having something if only.....for the sake of being PC, I'll stop that analogy here. That's not to say Knowing would be an excellent film with a different leading man--it's got several problems--but it would look a hell of a lot better---like your senior pictures--an awkward time in life, except that Nicolas Cage in your movie is like that huge, yellow pustule you can't have airbrushed off your face. The plot of Knowing circulates around a creepy girl named Lucinda, who, in 1959 placed a string of numbers representing the dates of world-disasters-to-come in her elementary school's time capsule. 50 years later, the son of MIT professor Nicolas Cage becomes the student to acquire Lucinda's capsule offering, setting Cage and crew into the maelstrom of the plot. Cage's performance becomes more and more hysterical as the film goes on--he heroically jumps into the remains of a burning airplane, only to shout "Hey" at a man engulfed in flames as he runs past, as if they should stop and talk about it; having won an Oscar for playing an alcoholic, Cage ironically is unable to effectively play it off here, stomping around his home and noisily clambering his thick fingers all over the keyboard, lugubriously decoding some numbers while swilling down vast amounts of hard liquor; he chases strange, scary men into the woods that are bothering his kid (referred to as the whisperers) clunking a blunt instrument against a tree while bellowing "Do you want some of this" (umm no); there's another awful fake crying scene that rivals the hamminess of 8MM (1999); and, to top it off, a subway scene where Cage crazily asks a policewoman why the street hasn't been cordoned off due to the impending terrorist attack, directly followed by a dizzyingly silly chase sequence involving one of those wily DVD pirates; and then there's that awful little Dutch boy wig he's wearing. However, like I said, there's more wrong with the film than just Cage and his weave; the screenplay suffers from some awfully bad stock dialogue that affects even the usually charismatic Rose Byrne (The Dead Girl - 2006; 28 Weeks Later - 2007). And the melding of some clever, realistic characteristics with the unexplainable shape-shifting super beings that happen to pick Cage's son as the new forefather of the human race gave me some heartburn concerning the film. I suppose I was at first alarmed that it's two little white children that are of course picked to restart the human race, but also, if the world is ending due to sun flares, wouldn't only half the earth burn? Since, as we've known for some time now, the earth is not flat. Therefore, half the earth is in darkness. So as the USofA starts on fire due to a solar flares, wouldn't people in China be okay, at least for several hours longer? These are the explanations I need, especially in a film that chooses to be very precise about it's human elements (Cage, the scientist, reuniting at last with his preacher father). And then the film has to bonk us over the head with Eden symbolism. And though I think bunnies are cute, I'm not sure that super intelligent extraterrestrials would so poetically and strangely use these furry fertility symbols while they abduct their little white New England schoolchildren only to deposit them in some windy utopia with lots of brown grass and a big tree that's not bearing any visible fruit. At least the little girl would logically know about the demise of Eve---hope she's wary of fruit and phallic symbols. Cage, however, is purely an unacceptable cinematic presence. Alex Proyas, a talented director with work like The Crow (1994) and Dark City (1998) seems to have various studio issues, the least being saddled with talentless multiplex fodder like Cage. At least with I, Robot (2004) he had the luck to have a less offensively talentless draw with Will Smith.

Everlasting Moments (2008) -- Destined to be included in one of my favorite theatrical releases of this year is Jan Troell's latest offering, Everlasting Moments. At times upsetting, but ultimately rewarding and an excellent piece of cinema, the film stars Maria Hesikanen in a riveting portrayal of a Finnish woman living in turn of the century Sweden with her rather large family. Her husband, not altogether a bad man, is a terribly violent drunk, and he likes to drink, it would seem, incessantly. Thankfully, the woman finds joy in a camera she discovers hidden away, which leads her into one of those beautiful but awful to watch relationships rife with sexual tension that will never be realized with the man that owns the local camera shop (think sort of like Julianne Moore & Dennis Haysbert in Far From Heaven - 2001). Though there's not the kind of satisfactory ending you'd expect from American fare, there's a lot of surprises on the journey there, and a potent yearning that oozes off the screen--that makes the end that much more moving. And painfully human.

Duplicity (2009) -- The problem with Tony Gilroy's (Michael Clayton - 2007) latest is offering is that I didn't believe a word of it. The chemistry between Julia Roberts and Clive Owen was almost nonexistent. There was more chemistry between Naomi Watts and Clive Owen in this year's earlier release of The International (which, strangely, also features Ulrich Thomsen as an icky European banker). It doesn't help that Gilroy casts two people I typically find to be vastly overrated. Foremost being the one trick pony Roberts and the other being Paul Giamatti, who either gets to play vindictive slimeballs or quintessential losers. The slow motion fistfight between Giamatti and Tom Wilkinson that opens the film is perhaps the most entertaining scene---and it only goes downhill from there. Gilroy seems to have an obsession with multi-billion dollar companies doing strange and devious things with or pertaining to highly marketable products. Since the product in question here is about as sought after as the fountain of youth I wasn't surprised at all by the highly predictable ending to a completely un-engaging film. Some nice filming locations, however. It would be nice to see Clive Owen do something that stretches his abilities a little better.

Sunshine Cleaning (2008) -- The latest entry in the indie-quirk brigade is this new offering from the producers of Little Miss Sunshine (2006) -- but whereas that film had a lot of heart, this offering from director Christine Jeffs (Sylvia - 2003) feels a bit forced and highly illogical under close examination. It's hard to be too irritated with Amy Adams, I find. She might be vaguely the same in most of her films, but she has an effervescence that's refreshing. (And no, I don't believe she deserved an Oscar nod for Doubt - 2008). Emily Blunt (The Devil Wear Prada - 2006) is also entertaining and believable, but in the end, I found most of her interactions with her sister, Adams, to be a bit forced (e.g., they wouldn't have discussed their mother's death anytime beforehand, even though she died when they were children?) and Alan Arkin's character is basically a resurrection of his turn in Little Miss Sunshine. Steve Zahn, though good to see, is basically an underused bastard. Perhaps I was most disappointed at the build up between Blunt's character and a young woman she basically stalks (the always entertaining Mary Lynn Rajskub, from "24") or perhaps it was that I didn't care, in the end. Adams is repeatedly made aware that there are certain steps towards certain certifications she needs for crime scene cleanups---and she fails. Repeatedly. I can only have empathy for so long. In the end, I found this to be not an entirely bad film, but one that relies too entirely much on being about "quirky" women, seemingly unscathed by some arguably avoidable situations.

Goodbye Solo (2008); Chop Shop (2007); Man Push Cart (2005) -- I recently had the opportunity to see Rahmin Bahrani's three films, virtually back to back. With the opening of his latest film, Goodbye Solo, Mr. Bahrani has received quite a bit of attention due to the glowing reviews by Roger Ebert and AO Scott. Needless to say, I find their reviews to be a little overrated. Of the three, I found Chop Shop to be Bahrani's best work, documenting the relationship between a brother and sister virtually living in chop shop outside of Queens in NYC. Bahrani's first two films were made without professional actors, which, amazingly to myself, I preferred over what I felt were some forced dynamics in Goodbye Solo---perhaps it's the cynic in me, but it's really not that I don't believe someone would go so far to stop a stranger from committing suicide, it's just that for the main character of Solo to do so in this film, conversely, made him rather irresponsible about other choices he was making. Perhaps I was irked that, rather than spend time with his son that's just been born, Solo decides to prevent William, a man he's known for about two weeks because he gave him a ride in his taxi, from killing himself. Not only is William an old white man, he's not that friendly or even engaging. He is like that old, sad dog you can roughhouse with until they become angry enough to muster up the strength to bite. As Mr. Bahrani gets bigger budgets for his films, perhaps we can see him grow into a filmmaker of impressive magnitude--until then, the dynamics of his adult characters are rather one dimensional, hence why I enjoyed Chop Shop more than the other two. Perhaps to make you understand, I found Man Push Cart to have a lot of similarities with "Death of a Salesman." However, I find Arthur Miller's classic play to be one of the most difficult pieces for me to read or sit through---because Willy Loman is such a pathetic loser I can't stomach listening to his endless pathetic shit drivel, literary theory to the side. Neo-neo-realism is bit like off-off-Broadway---some of it works, some of it doesn't. In the end, it's difficult to watch people that refuse to help themselves--and even more so if it's done half-heartedly.

Sunday, April 5th -- Double Feature Event --- Fassbinder's "The Marriage of Maria Braun" and "Troll"

Hello hello, my it's been a while since there was a film screening---but for this upcoming April Sunday we have a rather interesting Double Feature event. The first screening, while everyone is still able to pay attention, will be Rainer Werner Fassbinder's The Marriage of Maria Braun (1979), the German auteur's most financially successful film and starring Fassbinder muse Hannah Schygulla as the titular heroine. Maria Braun is the first film in Fassbinder's loosely related BRD trilogy (which also includes Lola 1981 and Veronika Voss 1982), a series of melodramas focusing on what is referred to as the "economic miracle" of West Germany's post-war recovery. (WWII that is). BRD stands for Bundesrepublik Deutchland. One of my all time favorite directors, in honor of Fassbinder I will be preparing Apfel Kuchen (Apple Cake) for the occasion.

The second half of the double feature will be a screening of the thematically unrelated American 1986 D-horror film, Troll. Why? Well, a group of friends and I will be attending an upcoming midnight screening of Troll 2 (1990)--which apparently is THE ne plus ultra of bad sequels. And I'm just so anal, I'm making everyone watch the first one. It is at this point where drinks will most certainly be provided. Troll, by the way, is currently being remade by original director John Carl Buechler, but due to some problems with J.K. Rowling, because the original 1986 film centers around a character by the name of Harry Potter (and apparently shares some strangely common themes) it's having a little difficulty. The 1986 film also happened to be the film debut of Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Elaine from "Seinfeld") and also stars Michael Moriarty ("Law & Order"). Don't judge! Remember, Jennifer Aniston was in Leprechaun (1993).

So be there, be square, 6PM Central we begin the descent!