AFI Fest Preview

AFI Fest 2011 kicks off tomorrow, and I’ll be there all week covering as many damn films as time and my own ability to stay awake will allow. I’ll be rolling out daily recaps over at Battleship Pretension, but you can come here for regular link round-ups. I’ll also be Twittering vigorously @railoftomorrow.

I was unable to attend the press screenings preceding the festival, but I researched all of the films as they were announced, and have thus assembled a list of what I feel are the movies to see, though scheduling will prevent anyone from possibly seeing all of them. Admittedly, some of my reasons are a trifle vague, but I’m trying to maintain some of the mystery for myself.

If you end up attending the festival, shoot me a tweet, say “hi,” buy me a sandwich, whatever! I’ll be busy, but not that busy. As always, the comments are open, so if you want a different kind of coverage, be sure to let me know as well - I hope to get to all types of things, but you never know everything you leave out.

J. Edgar (dir. Clint Eastwood) - It's the opening night gala, and tickets are scarce. More are supposed to pop up any second now, so keep your eyes peeled! But any new Clint Eastwood movie is a must see, and this one has the benefit of almost certainly being better than Hereafter.

The Adventures of Tintin (dir. Steven Spielberg) - I don’t care what your too-cool-for-school friends say. Spielberg is one of the greats. This is his first foray into animation, 3D, and digital filmmaking, and for that alone it demands your attention. Plus it’s been getting great reviews overseas, where it’s already opened.

Carnage (dir. Roman Polanski) - The reviews have not been across-the-board praise, as many feel the film is trapped by its stage-y roots (it’s adapted from the hit show, God of Carnage), but beyond the allure of any new Roman Polanski film, there are few directors who can turn one room into such a dynamic force as he.

The Artist (dir. Michel Hazanavicius) - The Artist has remained every cinephile’s fantasy film since it premiered out of nowhere at Cannes (literally - it was added to the competition a week before the festival). Initial reviews were ambivalent, but it’s been gaining steam ever since. I would be ecstatic if this revives interest in silent film, but for now, I’m just hoping for a damn good movie.

Shame (dir. Steve McQueen) - This is easily required viewing based on the strength of McQueen’s debut film, Hunger, which, like this film, starred Michael Fassbender. Unfortunately, not very many people saw Hunger, but the reviews for this have been extraordinary so far, and its reputation alone will make it one of the most talked-about films of the fall - it’s without a doubt the highest-profile NC-17 film of the last decade.

Into the Abyss (dir. Werner Herzog) - It’s the new Werner Herzog film. Need I say more? Strategic festival-goers may want to wait on this, as it’s released in Los Angeles mere days after it’s shown at AFI Fest (I’ll be waiting, but only because there are more rare, and equally enticing, opportunities at the same times).

The Kid with the Bike (dir. Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne) - Once again, one could do worse that to rely on a reputation as strong as the Dardennes, but even those given to say “more of the same” are declaring this especially noteworthy. Those who do not tire of artistic excellence are over the moon.

Jeff, Who Lives at Home (dir. Mark Duplass & Jay Duplass) - I’ve had an unsteady relationship with the Duplass brothers since their breakout film, The Puffy Chair, culminating with what I felt was a massive misfire with Cyrus. Yet I can’t resist the pull, especially with a cast headlined by Jason Segel, Ed Helms, Judy Greer(!), and Susan Sarandon.

Melancholia (dir. Lars von Trier) - Once again, strategists may want to take its impending release (November 11th in Los Angeles) as reason to check out some smaller stuff, but this is my one major indulgence - I’m dying to see this projected on the Egyptian’s enormous screen. Reviews have been exuberant, and many felt it could have taken the Palme d’Or if not for von Trier’s knack for getting into trouble.

Miss Bala (dir. Gerardo Naranjo and Mauricio Katz) - A few months back, I was embroiled in an extensive, multi-blog debate about the modern quick-cut style of action films. My opponents will be delighted to know their precious “classical” camerawork is, reportedly, very much alive. Don’t get me wrong, I’m dying for a more rigorous action movie myself, so if you see me at the 8:30 show on Friday night, do say “hi.”

Pina (dir. Wim Wenders) - In addition to praising the cinematic stylings of Michael Bay, I’ve also sought to alienate myself from critical circles by vigorously championing 3D. And a 3D dance documentary directed by Wim Wenders is just what the doctor ordered! Those I know who have seen it think very highly of it.

Rampart (dir. Oren Moverman) - I enjoyed, but was not particularly electrified, by Moverman’s debut, The Messenger, but it was enough to get me curious. Plus, co-written by James Ellroy? Corruption in the LAPD? Indeed!

We Need to Talk About Kevin (dir. Lynne Ramsay) - I am, regrettably, not as familiar with Ms. Ramsay’s career as I (or I’m sure you) would like, but I hear she’s one hell of a filmmaker, and this one’s got Tilda Swinton! Maybe that doesn’t make it the must-see movie for you that it is for me, but if that’s the case...why?

The Loneliest Planet (dir. Julia Loktev) - Ecstatic reviews out of the New York Film Festival. Phil Coldiron called it “the sharpest account of what it means to be an educated, disillusioned young American made thus far in the 21st century.” Richard Brody noted that Loktev “condenses a world of bitter and incommensurable experience into a single shot.” Hurrah!

Michael (dir. Markus Schleinzer) - Reportedly a very calm, measured portrait of an accountant who keeps a ten-year-old boy locked in his basement. Not for those whose souls have not already been sanded to dust, I’m sure, but I’ll give it a go anyway.

Green (dir. Sophia Takal) - I’ll be honest, I don’t know anything about this one, but it was one of a handful that was highlight by those who would know as a must-see. Sure, I could look up reviews, but I don’t want to totally spoil my own fun.

Alps (dir. Yorgos Lanthimos) - Did you see Dogtooth? I still don’t know what to think about it, but I wouldn’t trade watching it for...well, seeing it on the big screen as opposed to a standard-def stream on Netflix wouldn’t have been so bad. Nevertheless, Lanthimos is more than a director worth watching - he’s worth fearing. In a good way.

The Day He Arrives (dir. Hon Sang-Soo) - Again, woefully unfamiliar with the director, but I hear it has intellectuals discussing things! While drunk! In black-and-white! Yeah, I did go to film school, why do you ask?

Jiro Dreams of Sushi (dir. David Gelb) - An apparently enrapturing portrait of a world-renowned sushi chef who operates out of a subway station, and whose waiting list can stretch for years.

Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (dir. Nuri Bilge Ceylan) - Very depressed I’ll have to miss this one (due to scheduling conflicts), as it’s a slow-burning procedural in which a killer leads the police to his victim’s body. I’m sure things don’t quite go as planned.

A Separation (dir. Asghar Farhadi) - Another one very close to getting cut from my schedule due to a very tight day, but this has become the movie to see in the rounds it’s made through festivals. The screenplay is apparently tight enough to bounce a dime off, and the emotional punch quite a wallop.

The Turin Horse (dir. Bela Tarr) - Tarr claims this will be his final film, which makes it something of an event unto itself. Never mind the reviews that have called it a devastating masterpiece, which should be a good way to start off the day (both screenings are in the first block, and while one would like to wander around town late into the night pondering the fragility of existence after such a thing, them’s the brakes). It runs a scant 146 minutes with only 30 shots. I couldn’t be more giddy. Word on the street is that Tarr himself will be there. For which screening, I do not know. The word was not that elaborate.

Extraterrestrial (dir. Nacho Vigalondo) - Timecrimes fans will want to note that this is director Vigalondo’s follow-up. Me, I’ve yet to see Timecrimes, but I know its fanbase is expansive; hence, I have included it.

Bonsai (dir. Cristian Jimenez) - Like so many others, this is getting fantastic reviews, and it has a very friendly premise to those who share my interests: “In Cristian Jimenez’s wry and nostalgic tale of love and literature, struggling writer Julio revisits and revises his memories of his college romance with Emilia.” Sadly, as with so many others, scheduling will prevent me, but it needn’t you.

Bullhead (dir. Michael R. Roskam) - If you think about it hard enough, you already know the premise based on the title. And it sounds righteous. Word out of Fantastic Fest was strong. Strong like a bull.

Le Cercle Rouge (dir. Jean-Pierre Melville) and The Killers (dir. Robert Siodmak) - No, Melville and Siodmak didn’t come back from the dead and remake his own classics, Haneke-style (note: there is no proof that Haneke has died, though he often looks not unlike an extra in a Romero film); rather, this is one of the films Pedro Almodovar has chosen to highlight in his stint as guest director. The other two - Eyes Without a Face and Nightmare Alley - I’ve unfortunately not seen, but these two are dynamite.

Shorts! - There are four shorts programs, and one of the major recommendations from festival veterans is to make sure to catch at least one at any festival. I’ll probably be catching Shorts 1, but that’s purely a function of scheduling, as it’s actually the shortest program.

There will also be a few events at the festival, namely the Young Hollywood Panel, featuring Kirsten Dunst, Anton Yelchin, Armie Hammer, and Evan Rachel Wood (that might be too much pretty on display, but I think the room will find a way to manage), and the Sony 3D Panel. Those who read this whole damn thing might remember that I’m quite fond of the potential of 3D, and I want to see what Buzz Hays, Senior Vice President of the Sony 3D Technology Center, sees in its future.

Getting by far the least notice of all is Two Visions of the West with Bob Birchard. Part of that is the time - 9:30 am makes it by far the earliest event all week - but it’s also one of the few retrospectives, and worth taking note of. Birchard will present The Canadian, a silent later noted for its stark realism, and Trail of the Vigilantes, the description for which includes the words “oater,” “lawman,” “outlaws,” “comic,” “mysterious,” “hell-raiser,” “sidekick,” and (wait for it) “nymphomania.” This falls at the beginning of my busiest day, which will end well after midnight, but I’m pretty intent on making it.

Finally, there is a Secret Screening scheduled for November 6th at 9:30. I don’t have any insider knowledge, and my plan is still to attend Melancholia at 8:30 that evening instead, but...if I hear tell that it’s something irresistible, my plans may have to change.

Communists, Young Love, Bastards, and Hipsters

Did I go too far in noting Communist ideology into my review of In Time? Only...time...will tell.

Moviegoers outside the multiplex aren't going to fare much better, I'm afraid - I was really looking forward to Like Crazy, and was sorely disappointed. It's not awful by any stretch; it's more that it keeps showing promise but on which it can't really follow through. Some nice moments here and there, but not enough connective tissue. Anyway, I wrote a whole damn review about it.

I don't know if I'll get around to writing about The Rum Diary or Hipsters, but suffice to say neither are particularly noteworthy. The Rum Diary is enjoyable enough for much of its running time, with sporadic bursts of wonderful inspiration, and it's great to see Depp subverting his relatively-for-him wholesome Disney image again, but it's a little too celebratory of its subject, Hunter S. Thompson (by way of fictional Paul Kemp). Michael Rispoli is magnificent.

As for Hipsters, well, it uses my least favorite convention - introducing us to this crazy group of characters through a totally bland protagonist - and its storytelling is pretty patchy. Great music, though.

To Havre and Have Not

Just to clear up any confusion - I liked Ari Kaurismäki's Le Havre. I just didn't love it. It's a boldly theatrical film exploring rather minor emotional shifts, and is an absolute pleasure to watch in many regards. I just didn't think it all came together as successfully. In any event, my review is now up at Battleship Pretension.

The Skin I Live In (dir. Pedro Almodóvar)

The following review contains spoilers.


In the supplements on the Criterion edition of Harakiri (which I reviewed for Battleship Pretension (plug!)), screenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto provides some insight into why his flashbacks are so effective, noting that "it isn't a flashback if it moves in the direction of the drama." Each of the flashbacks is "introduced" by an important dramatic turn or a new question. Also, there are people in each scene as clueless about the story Hashimoto is about to cut to as we are in the audience. Each time, we get a dramatic, emotional reason for diving into the past to illuminate the present.

And this is the key to what's missing in The Skin I Live In. Almodóvar begins with a fascinating set-up. Robert Ledgard (Antonio Banderas) is a brilliant surgeon researching a new type of artificial skin, which he's testing on a patient, Vera (Elena Anaya), who also seems to be his prisoner. Their relationship is intriguing, as Vera seems to want him desperately while Robert is constantly battling his own attraction towards her. The film's best image is classic Almodóvar - Robert spies on Vera through a camera, which he views on a plasma screen as big as his wall. Before long, a crook will break into their house and rape Vera, with strong implications that they used to have a relationship. She tosses out a line that feels revealing even before we know the context - "I've had enough of sex in the garden" (or something to that effect).

Even better, the answers to all of these questions are thematically satisfying, emotionally shattering, and quietly terrifying, but their presentation is so ham-handed and obvious, bereft of true dramatic impact and stuffed into a flashback that serves no structural purpose.

The key revelation is that Vera was once Vincente, a wayward, pill-addicted twenty-something who raped Robert's daughter, Norma, sending her spiraling into insanity and eventually killing herself. Upon hearing about the rape, Robert kidnapped Vincente and locked him in a dungeon, before performing on him a forced sex change (the result of which leaves him looking very similar to Robert's late wife, who ran away with her lover, was burned in a car crash, and eventually committed suicide) and keeping her prisoner for further experimentation. Which, by the way, is an awesome story, but even the best concept goes sour when mishandled.

The flashback itself is totally unmotivated. Robert and Vera have sex, and then each seems to dream, or at least reflect upon, about how they met. First, we see Robert's perspective of a wedding he and his daughter attended, and how he found his daughter lying in the garden unconscious, clearly the victim of rape. Then, Almodóvar cuts back to the present, gives us an isolated shot of Vera asleep, and fades back into that same night to show her perspective. But her flashback doesn't start there - it starts in Vincente's mother's vintage clothing store, in which Vincente and another woman work. We know right away, because of the principles of cinematic language, Vera has to be one of these two people. But then Vincente attends the wedding alone, and suddenly the whole movie opens up in front of us - Robert kidnapped Vincente and locked him in a dungeon, before performing a forced sex change on him and keeping her prisoner for further experimentation. And yes, I know I already typed that sentence, but only as a means of pointing out how redundant the film becomes, because the next ungodly amount of time is showing step-by-step how this is carried out, and the whole affair starts to feel a lot like the last few episodes of Lost - lots of answers without any emotional heft.

The key problem here is that all of the characters already know the whole story. We're kept in the dark because it's more surprising that way, but as a result, we're on a totally different trajectory than the characters. We don't get any time to truly appreciate Robert's struggle, because by the time we move back to the present, he's made up his mind - Vera goes free, and they're going to live together and have lots of creepy sex. Vera, despite her promises, eventually turns on him, killing Robert and Robert's mother/housekeeper. But her struggle, her chess game, is kept totally secret until a few seconds before that particular showdown.

So we can reflect on the earlier, more intriguing part of the movie, and apply the twist in order to gain some emotional resonance, but it's unnatural, unearned. We're being manipulated, saving the film's most intriguing element for a revelation that operates as a twist. But unlike the twists in Memento, Fight Club, Psycho, or any of the other classics of "gotcha!" cinema, it's not used to mirror the characters' emotional journeys. It's used cheaply, and elaborated on unnecessarily, when time could have been spent with the characters and what all this has meant to them. Instead, by the time we cut back to the present, everyone seems pretty content. Until suddenly they're not. Couldn't we have gotten a hint of Vera's plan? Wouldn't that have been more emotionally satisfying, never mind the heightened dramatic intrigue. Couldn't we get a moment of Robert wondering what kind of monster he has become, or maybe an indication that he believes he's earned his monstrosity after the tragedies that befell him? Or maybe he's too completely lost in his own obsession and madness to even think these things. We never know.

I'm left wondering just what this movie was trying to do, exactly. If it's yet another contemplation about how an urge for revenge manifests itself in worse acts than that which it's avenging, fine, but by the time we meet Robert, it's already clear that whatever he did to Vera was far worse than anything she could have done to him. Robert's plight remains distant, unknowable to us; he's a monster when we meet him, and the unfolding revelations only help us to understand, but never sympathize. Meanwhile, save for one glorious moment in which she discovers yoga, we never really see Vera for who she is until the final minutes of the film. The last scene, in which she reunites with her mother and the other girl in the shop, is similarly backwards - because of the events shown in the film, it makes narrative sense for Vera to reveal herself to the shopgirl first, but the true emotion should remain between Vera and her mother, and we're only given a slight hint of that.

The Hills Have Ides

Among my observations that didn't quite fit into my review of The Ides of March, which is now up at Battleship Pretension:

-I loved, loved, loved the way the characters kept referring to life after campaign management, and starting a consulting firm, with the kind of tone people usually use to talk about retirement homes or death. Said so much about these people and their way of life.

-I knew instantly that Marisa Tomei played a reporter, not because I read/saw the played or read any review or really had much in the way of prior knowledge of the film. I knew she was a reporter because she wore glasses and had ruffled hair. Clooney, for all the subtlety he gets from performers, is in full-on Confessions of a Dangerous Mind mode when it comes to visualizing his characters.

-Speaking of Confessions, this makes two films in which Clooney has cast himself as the antagonist of sorts. I don't think it's a role for which he's particularly well suited, but since it's only really been twice now, it has felt like a breath of fresh air each time. So in other words, if he made a habit of this, I'd get sick of it fast, but since it's so spread out, it works quite nicely, and he's very good in the film.

-IMDB assures me that I have seen Jennifer Ehle in stuff before Contagion, but that was the first film in which I really noticed her, and between that and this, she's my new favorite actress. Does almost nothing but is so naturally wonderful it makes me wonder if I'm just missing the millions of tiny things she's doing.

-Max Minghella (a.k.a. Divya a.k.a. the Winklevii's friend in The Social Network) is a really good actor, but I wonder if he'll only ever work in movies about processes, i.e. he's uniquely suited to spouting exposition and portraying someone caught in the beginning of a success he always expected.

-I know it's cool to rag on her, but I still like Evan Rachel Wood. This isn't her strongest moment, but her character is also kind of ridiculous, and more than a little bit of a plot device. I can totally see the character working really well onstage, and a little bit broader, but the translation loses a lot by demanding subtlety.

It's an uneven film to be sure, yet I think it might be Clooney's best to date. Good Night, and Good Luck was a more unified work, perhaps, but it was also a lot simpler. With this, Clooney's actually making a film about something in us as people, and how that manifests itself in modern life.

Two for Blu

Well, more of Blu as in Blu-Ray, but hey, that works too.

I recently had the chance to look at two recent releases from The Criterion Collection for the good folks at Battleship Pretension. I loved the hell out of Victor Sjöström's The Phantom Carriage, even if I wish the special features were a little more...I don't know, special or something. On the flip side, I was a little ambivalent about Claude Chabrol's Les Cousins, but gained a greater appreciation for it after listening to Adrian Martin's commentary, which sadly stands as that disc's sole supplement. For the rest of my thoughts, click on the respective links. We've been getting a lot of readers, which is awesome, but very few comments, and we'd love to see more discussions start up!

You Can Count on Margaret

Meant to post this on Friday, but if you live in New York or Los Angeles, I cannot recommend strongly enough that you go see Kenneth Lonergan's Margaret this week. It was shot several years ago, but has been held up in editing and legal proceedings ever since. The result isn't perfect, but it's so, so, so good. Fox Searchlight is dumping it big time, but it's a damn good movie that deserves better. I don't know when or if it'll be hitting other cities, but if Fox updates their website or I hear about it opening elsewhere, I'll be sure to at least post it to Twitter. In the meantime, my full review is up at Battleship Pretension.

Oh, also, I'd recommend against seeing the trailer; it misrepresents the hell out of the movie, among other undesirable traits.