nelsoncarvajal.com/blog

 

Fuck Pixar. Whew! That felt good to get off my chest. Now, actually that's a bit drastic. I grew up with "Toy Story" and can still enjoy watching "The Incredibles." It just seems to me in the last few years, Pixar has lost the patience to stick with the reality of the human emotions they deal with in their films (even if these protagonists are embodied by animals or robots) and each of these recent works ends with a wam-bam-thank-you-ma'am sensationalism. And sensationalism is fine (for example, what Michael Bay does is not sensationalism) but Pixar has teased us with early levels of greatness with no follow through.  Look at that drab "Finding Nemo." Or the borderline "Spaceballs" campiness in the third act of "Wall*E" (and what a masterful opening act that film had!). Most recently, "Up" lifted our spirits to new heights with a brilliant opening sequence/montage and then let our spirits get lost in the silliness of talking dogs and a colorful, giant bird. And so with that in mind, watching Adam Elliot's "Mary and Max" (surely one of the year's best films) was an exciting venture. While the film is endlessly inventive and clever in both its visuals (claymation) and screenplay, I kept wincing at the possiblity of "Mary and Max" caving into the Pixar routine of dumbing down the stakes for the benefit of a younger audience. And that thematic recession never came so by the time the houselights came on I was moved both emotionally and professionally. This is an uncompromising vision and sustaining work of clarity and grace.

Featuring almost unrecognizable voice-work by Oscar winner Philip Seymour Hoffman as Max, the isolated, tragic character of the title pair, the film mainly follows young Mary (in Australia) from her days as a wistful and shy eight year old to a confident, academically successful wife and mother (voiced by Oscar nominee Toni Collette). Her evolution in maturity and confidence is sparked by her pen pal relationship with Max (a depressed forty-four year old Jew in New York) and the concurrent life milestones in her own immediate world (death, marriage, sex). You're not going to believe some of the ideas and images you'll hear and see but that's just some of the film's charm. Way past the film's clay animation (think of a grittier "Wallace and Gromit") and initial target audience, lies a deep rooted knowledge of mortality and the fragility of hope. I did not see this one coming. If you paid $12 to see "Up" then you might as well throw yourself out the window and land right on top of a street mime if you end up missing this one.

If the reports from Vanity Fair reveal themselves to be ultimately true (claiming that the late Heath Ledger in fact tried to get fired during the filming of "The Dark Knight" thus changing the motives behind his Joker performance) it makes the decade's most successful film a different beast entirely and helps explain Nolan's omission from the short list for a Best Director Oscar nomination. Ledger, without question, was more interested in the challenging & non-popular roles. Which is why for most of its running time Terry Gilliam's "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" works and unfolds quite beautifully. To watch Gilliam fill the screen from edge to edge with his wacky and unprecedented art direction and to see Ledger soak in the scenery like food and drink is a moviegoer's dream (no pun here buddy).  Gilliam was a mentor to Ledger so one can safely assume this was a project Ledger deeply cared about, if not looked forward to. The untimely death of Ledger led to the film's most radical screenplay adjustment: three actors--Colin Farrell, Jude Law & Johnny Depp--filmed the remaining incomplete scenes for Heath Ledger.

Like most of Gilliam's work, "Parnassus" is uneven and sometimes gets lost in its own irony. But if anything--Ledger aside--the film's strongest card is the actual filmmaking itself. The traveling troupe of dream-spinners/carnies (headed by Christopher Plummer) drag around a mobile stage that comes to life like a child's pop-up book. They offer people the chance to literally walk through a mirror and visit a tangible, three dimensional version of their own imagination. With that kind of leap of faith in the audience, Gilliam really had the opportunity to steer the film into provocative waters of examined metaphysics, theories of the sole conscious individual in an unconscious world and on and on--but it instead settles on a simple plot mechanism. Doctor Parnassus (Plummer) is a drunk and a gambler and finds himself owing his teen daughter to the Devil (played by Tom Waits no less). The film's best scenes come in the first half, with Ledger introduced as a wild card individual (he has no memory of his past life) and becomes a valuable addition to the troupe. However, just as the case with Spike Jonze's "Where The Wild Things Are," the opening passages of "Parnassus" are so interesting and quietly brilliant that the closing segments of the film fall flat. Perhaps because with both films, all the magic has been explained by the end and then we are forced to go back to boring realities. Still, for any filmmaker who shivers at the idea of making studio fare, watching "Parnassus" (or "Wild Things" for that matter) can invigorate the soul. Gilliam made his movie and there ain't shit anyone can do about it. Gotta love that.

DIY (Do It Yourself) Filmmaking has proved to be an almost unstoppable force in the new era of film festival success. With Judi Krant's "Made In China" the behind the scenes production story parallels the onscreen narrative. In the film, Johnson (Jackson Kuehn) is a wannabe novelty inventor. He has created a product he says is "novel and needful" and I dare not reveal it here. To realize his dream, he naturally goes to China since everything seems to be made over there. In real life, Krant and her small crew flew to China and shot the bulk of the film guerrilla style: no shooting permits, no location releases & they stole shots of everyday life in Shangai (most of the time with Kuehn's character as an enabler with the individuals around him). It's the rare case where the external location really does enhance a comedy because the scary unfamiliarity of the environment adds to the protagonist's already pungent quirkiness (to see how an external location can fail in a comedy, go see "Couples Retreat").

Of course, as with many films shot in this style, not every scene is a gem but the ones that work (and believe me several do) are enhanced by Krant's animations and crafty visuals. Check out this scene where a back story is given for the man who invented the ant farm. Neat stuff. It should also be noted that "Made In China" won the prize for Best Narrative Feature at this year's SXSW Film Festival which speaks volumes about its bare bones storytelling.

For more info on this film that continues to collect prizes on the festival circuit visit micthemovie.com

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 11:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

 

It's hard to be critical with independently produced works sometimes.  As a filmmaker, I always am surprised at how critical I can be of the films I've watched. But who the hell am I to bash or praise?  Did I stay up late nights, worrying and fretting during the production phase of every movie with each of the filmmakers whose films I analyze? Of course not.  These thoughts popped up in my head shortly after sharing my views on Chicago Public Radio's Vocalo a couple of days ago.

Then again, I initially started this blog nearly two years ago as a way of further educating and expanding my own cinematic canon and education.  And if in the process I happen to marginally enlighten readers on some material...well then I couldn't be happier.

So pushing forward, I must say that the sparse "Blue" (Directed Ryan Miningham) left the strangest imprint on me. I stayed for the Q&A after the screening to give due attention and respect to the filmmaking team. But the fact of the matter is, "Blue" is insufferably dull. On paper, it's a winning Hollywood formula: a struggling boxing contender named Blue (played by screenwriter Don Wallace) is trying to avoid a life of crime on the streets by winning the big fight destined for the film's climax. The problem is that the small idea behind the film is out-shrunk by its even smaller budget, modest filming technique and lack of visual flair. So when you have a film that is as predictable as studio garbage and has the non-professional look of an underground no-one-will-see-it piece of work, where do you go? How do you savor or affirm it? During my on air radio interview for Vocalo I gave the film an ultimate recommendation, yet not out of praise. When the lineup of a festival includes the frustrating elusiveness of a work like "Nymph," the cookie cutter over-simplicity of "Blue" can be sane viewing.

Luckily I was able to sit in on one of five different short film series the fest offers.  This series (#4) was labeled "Escape & Rebellion," a heading that highlights the shared themes among the works. Each one of these entries (which run about fifteen minutes a piece) is a complete entity, so to harp on a particular short film for its faults would prove useless. Instead, I'll talk about the highlights of each one.

"The Attack of the Robots from Nebula 5" (Spain) -- Essentially it's everything that was funny and not overbearingly obtuse about "Napoleon Dynamite" while only taking up a fraction of that feature length film's running time. A black & white first person narrative, the biggest laughs come from our misanthrope protagonist who insists aliens are going to meet him under an expressway underpass.

"Good Advice" (Sweden) -- Far and away the best of the short films, this winning story follows a young child who lives under the disapproving or nonobservant eyes of his parents. Understanding that his unborn younger brother is close to entering the world, he tapes a personal survival guide on his handy voice recorder, selecting the "Do's" and "Don'ts" of properly surviving the household. Feelings become very real and poignant once this same young chap decides to runaway. A definite must see.

"Ciao Mama" (Croatia) -- Definitely the darkest of the bunch, if only for never discussed reasons, I imagine this was either based on a one act play (all the action takes place essentially in the living room) or will be used as a concept piece to pitch the idea. The camera work here tends to avoid the subjects in particular shots, thus bringing to focus the fact that each of the two characters are avoiding their very own ugly truths.

"Ernesto Kely Takes Off" (Spain) -- A without question offspring of Woody Allen, "Ernesto" begins with Ernesto talking directly into the camera (also serving as a quasi-narrator) about his indecisions, phobias and ideal desires regarding his personal and professional life. The fact that he's a struggling abstract painter who is using warehouse space from his future father in law doesn't make matters particularly easier. Good music comes with this black & white photographed sleeper, including the track "Accident" by Speedmarket Avenue.

"The History of Aviation" (Hungary) --  If this were a feature film, I'd say give it the Best Cinematography Oscar right this second.  A strange and in retrospect haunting period piece, we follow a high class group of family, friends and workers who are looking for a little girl on a lush island. And yes, you guessed it, there is a plane involved.

"Lars and Peter" (Denmark) -- What happens when you catch your father masturbating while he's drunk on his birthday? Now imagine you're nine years old too. This interesting character study could lead to an even more interesting feature film.

"The Illusion" (Cuba) -- People actually walked out of this film around the 3 minute mark, once it became clear we were never going to get a clear steady camera shot or even a scene that was in full focus. A terrific experimental short subject documentary, "Illusion" tells the first person story of a woman filmmaker who travels to London to find her estranged father who left Cuba before Castro's revolution. If you can bear with it, it's quite rewarding.

 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

 

I don't know about you but I have horrid memories from my childhood concerning my trips to the local Osco Drug to buy my mother her "Super/Heavy/Overnight" maxi pads since she couldn't go her herself because she would be dying with cramps back at home.

Watching Diana Fabianova's documentary "The Moon Inside Of You" I sat up in my seat during the amusing intro, showing Ms. Fabianova approach various men on the streets asking them their thoughts on "menstruation."  Some of the looks they give at first are priceless and raise the curtain on the taboo topic of periods with all the negative connotations that come with it.  Yet by the end, what "Moon Inside" matures into is less of a documentary resting on the social awkwardness of periods--and the fear of excessive amounts of blood--and more into an [accidental?] essay on the importance of womanhood and the call to arms for women to unite in their extraordinary power: to create life.

Now if I have made the documentary sound like the best documentary of the year, it's not.  This is a notable debut for first time filmmaker Diana Fabianova, and according to her (she attended the same screening) it took 4 years to see the film through completion.  However the doc does fall victim to some flat gags, like the overuse of the color red as a motif in everyday life, a running subplot involving a video diary of an eleven year old on the eve of her first period (which doesn't have the emotional payoff we were hoping for) and the indifference to narrative tone (sections of the film have Ms. Fabianova as a significant & comic onscreen character, while other stretches have the camera as a directionless viewer).

But we do run into some eye opening characters, most memorably a Brazilian doctor who can guarantee to rid women of periods for the rest of their lives. His zeal for the female anatomy is a real hoot. Other experts in the field work as a catalyst for the film's most potent theme: rendering the menstrual cycle as an empowering tool for women, rather than a monthly inconvenience.  One individual/talking head draws the powerful image of the period representing a new birth for the woman; every month, a woman makes a powerful choice whether to go ahead and use that fertile egg to give life to another human being (thus giving birth to her life as a mother) or to pass on it and give herself a new life again (if even only for the next month) as a free human being.  It's quite the provocative conclusion.

Note: This documentary was pitched for American television but was turned down due to the very nature of its content.  It can still be purchased on DVD via the Internet.

After the first extraordinary five minutes of Pen-Ek Ratanaruang's "Nymph" I was literally speechless. A single tracking shot, running through a gorgeously photographed forest, we are met with transcendent confusion: we can make out a rape incident going off to camera right, ominous voices of spirits to camera left & the crunching of tree branches right above us. What is enthralling is the physicality of the production for this single take.  It had to have been on a one-man-chest jib arm for the running portion and then off to a crane attachment for the pull up into the sky shot. I don't know. Just thinking.

Which is why so far, with this film festival, "Nymph" is my biggest disappointment.  I almost wish the film had ended right after this opening.  It's so great.  The rest of this festival entry from Thailand--which by the way claims to be based on a short story by Edgar Allan Poe & I have no idea which story--generally assumes you will give it the same sort of awe-inspiring reaction that its opening sequence earned.  The problem is, a dreamlike sequence is easier to enjoy than the tribulations between a married couple on the ropes. The pair, who haven't had sex in months, go on a vacation into said woods.  Dark lighting and vague editing transitions later and the hubby goes missing. Light on dialogue but way too heavy on atmosphere, "Nymph" sort of develops into a possible ghost story via a mild third act plot development but it's such a drag until then that I felt like re-watching the way over-the-top, pretty much dumb but devilishly entertaining "Zombieland" instead.  Sometimes spectacle (zombies) can be more enduring than sophisticated silence (camping in the woods). (Sometimes.)

 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

 

Filmmakers Serge Bromberg & Ruxandra Medrea do something very uncommon in their feature documentary: rather than dissect their subject--in this case world cinema Director Henri-Georges Clouzot--into bite size dosages of easily understood factoids, they manage to raise an otherwise impotent awareness regarding a lost film of his, while still constructing a lovely ode to an obviously cherished influence of theirs.  Clouzot--most notable for his "Les Diaboliques" (1955) which was later remade into the American Sharon Stone thriller "Diabolique" (1996)--had a serious undertaking of both personal and professional retribution, in that the anticipation and expectations were very high for his film "Inferno" (1964), after his previous film had been a winner at the lauded Venice Film Festival.

Early on in the engrossing documentary "Henri-Georges Clouzot's Inferno" Bromberg & Ruxandra show some clips from an interview with Clouzot in the days leading up to the principal photography of his ill fated "Inferno."  Clouzot confidently assures the interviewer that he recently survived a "serious" depression--not the trivial kind suffered by "starlets" either.  As a highly regarded artist, Clouzot wanted to do something radical with "Inferno." He would take a primal, dialed down plot (a recently married couple becomes unraveled as the husband lets his jealousy over his wife's effect on others cloud his senses) and turn it on its head with experimental visuals and unorthodox camera work.  Luckily, cans with developed film from "Inferno" are found and we are able to see some of the actual finished picture--minus the sound for the most part.  This is where some of the doc's ingenuity steps in.  Much like Ken Burns & his team had to recreate the sounds of war battle for his "The War" documentary, Bromberg & Ruxandra fill in the most mundane of sounds with Foley effects. Even the squeak of a door opening is created for a second of a scene, for example. And for the missing reels, two contemporary French actors read lines from a copy of the "Inferno" script on a sound-stage surrounded by infinite darkness.  More interesting, is the behind the scenes plot which shows (or in some ways hides) how the project couldn't come to completion. Budget issues. Scheduling. The temperament of Clouzot and his gifted actors.  And on and on.

As a filmmaker and film lover, I spent most of the my viewing time lurched forward in my seat, searching across the giant screen for clues, slip ups or anything that could help in the mental composition of some of Clouzot's visualizations. Some look like a kaleidoscope rendered effect, others play with color schemes.  Most are sexual in the subtext.  All are unforgettable.  

"Inferno" was doomed from the start (both the plot of the screenplay and its production life).  It was a labor of love--that was secret on the love and overbearing on the labor for its cast and crew.  Watching this documentary now, it feels as if this is the only appropriate way Clouzot's original vision could be executed (via the third party examination by this documentary crew).  A definite must see for students of the cinema.

Ken Loach is the man.  His film "Sweet Sixteen" (2002) remains in my eyes, one of the necessary, elemental viewings for young viewers (teens anyways).  It told the harsh story of a young teen who had to be quick on his feet in order to outwit drug dealers and prepare for his mother's eventual release from prison.  What that film did, and for the most part what most of Loach's films do, is pay far more attention to the lower class of society with the respect and semi-adoration of a Merchant-Ivory production.  Not once does Loach ever look down upon one of his cinema character groundlings.  Which is why viewing his films can be such powerful experiences.  He can make a scene where a boy must hide something feel and carry the weight of a king defending his empire in the old centuries.  We live and breathe with these people for two hours with such trust, it can be a pretty harrowing feat to get through the third act.

After wining the Palme D'Or three years ago at Cannes for his "The Wind That Shakes The Barley," Loach is back in prime, urban drama form with the marvelous "Looking For Eric." It works simultaneously as a fable and as a lesson in narrative perception.  On the outset, the film is about Eric Bishop (played with a heartbreaking vulnerability by Steve Evets) as a disillusioned postal worker who is now raising his two stepsons alone after his second wife leaves him.  The opening scenes show us the individuals in Eric's life who obviously care a great deal about him.  It's still no good for Eric though, because he carries a deeper guilt with which I'll leave you to discover.

The fable part steps in an unusual way.  Eric steals marijuana from one of his stepsons and then sees his soccer idol (Manchester United's Eric Cantona) appear in person in his bedroom.  Loach avoids any gimmicks or special effects for these scenes. Cantona just pops up and even plays the radio and tokes a few with Eric from time to time.  Is this really a miracle?  Or is Eric just that stoned?

And Loach lets these scenes run for stretches of time, warming up to the audience.  A lot of it is genuinely funny.  It's with this narrative tool that Loach pulls the biggest trick of perception since sooner or later Eric is going to have to come face to face with the real, larger and seriously dangerous problems of his life.  So if at about an hour into the film, you find yourself not laughing as much and mouthing "Oh fuck!" as the third act violently pushes forward don't be surprised.  This is Ken Loach we're talking about.  He can only do the Jiminy Cricket tap dance for so long. 

Like I said, he's the man.

 

Posted by nelsoncarvajal at 08:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)