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Reviews
The Holy Modal Rounders: Bound to Lose (2006)
Too much fun
This starts out as the funniest rockumentary Christopher Guest never made, thanks to Steve Weber, to whom the word "mercurial" doesn't do justice. Weber's on screen antics pale compared to stories of his even chemicalier past: a Fug claims that Weber once treated a toothache by dropping acid. One running joke is that no one can believe Weber is still alive, least of all his long-suffering 40-year bandmate, Peter Stampfel. (The other running gag is that almost everyone thinks the band sucks.) Even before he went straight in the mid-Seventies, Stampfel, the more musically dedicated of the pair, had to deal with Weber's epicurean and Bacchanalian tendencies, which naturally precluded practising.
The movie (which evolved out of, of all things, a documentary about Stampfel's champion and lookalike, critic Robert Christgau) isn't a history, so swathes of Stampfel's and Weber's lives are left unexplored, and inevitably some of these absences are cause for regret: Hurley/Stampfel/Frederick's "Have Moicy!", strong evidence for the existence of collective genius, isn't considered, and the Rounders' mutual ex Antonia is only mentioned in passing. What is there is a depiction of a very odd couple. Early on, they're shown light-heartedly needling each other on stage; later, though, their arguments are weirdly passive-aggressive, like in "Some Kind of Monster". Stampfel obviously has a lot of affection for his pal, but experience has taught that relying on him is inadvisable. Weber's mind is unreadable: what's going on there beside working out where the next drink will come from? Whatever it is, he doesn't let anyone know. Near the end, it's heartbreaking when Stampfel comes to the conclusion that although he'd like to play with Weber again, it's alright if he never does.
You get the Rounders' music or you don't, only be warned that in either case you'll be totally disorientated after a first listen; the best way into the catalogue of the Rounders and friends is still Have Moicy! The soundtrack here includes comparatively well-known classics like "Euphoria", "Boobs a Lot" and "Griselda", as well as rarities like the Holy Grail of Rounderdom, "F--king Sailors in Chinatown" (if the filmmakers are reading this, you must put "Chinatown" on the DVD; this is not negotiable). Stampfel's wedgied funnyvoice (which turns out to be more or less his normal speaking voice) balances Weber's lackadaisical ease. The music evokes Weber's idea that enjoying the present moment is everything, especially if it's lunchtime. But it requires Stampfel's professionalism to sustain the illusion. So in the end, guys, does it really matter that much who wrote those songs?
Frisbee: The Life and Death of a Hippie Preacher (2005)
The sinner as a saint
This is the kind of well-reasoned movie about an intriguing public figure that would get a primetime TV slot if the channels claiming quality weren't afraid of meaning. Lonnie Frisbee achieved notoriety in the early Seventies as a major player in the Jesus Movement, in which counterculture kids were attracted to a less rigorous Christianity, emphasising love while minimising constriction. Frisbee was affiliated with the fledgling Calvary and Vineyard churches, both now multinational, but fell out with both, growing embittered before dying of AIDS. Director David Di Sabatino comes from an evangelical family, but possesses a modicum of scepticism to leaven the occasional sanctimony of his talking heads. (Sadly his open-mindedness doesn't transfer to the visual, as he overplays certain tics like zooming into stills off-center. Sometimes it's okay to just show the picture.) When the movie shifts to deal with Frisbee being squeezed out of the Vineyard after it was revealed he had been in a gay relationship, although it does smack of trying to force a thesis, that thesis stands: this major figure in the development of these churches has been whitewashed out of their history books. One could argue, however, that the movie does its own whitewashing by downplaying Frisbee's other sins, like his drug use. In any case, some Christians would consider the idea that a sinner could convert so many people to be perfectly apt (they're the target audience for this movie); other Christians would prefer not to contemplate such things. Hinted at is the question of whether it's possible for Christianity to thrive as an anti-authoritarian movement, like it originally was. Christianity's ubiquity would be impossible without its hierarchies; while open and reformist thought is possible at the fringes, can it affect the religion as a whole? Frisbee, for his part, seems from the archival footage to be a likable, charismatic innocent, joyful at being saved and wanting to pass this feeling on. When those who were ministered by him discuss him, he comes across as something more: an apostle, a prophet, just not a saint. Some of them to this day credit him with miracles. You may not believe them, but to possess the holy stature and earthly magnetism to have others even ascribe this gift to you is rare. The enraptured testimonies help explain the explosion of the evangelical movement, like it or not.
One other thing that must be mentioned is the music, which consists mostly of prehistoric Christian rock. Like most of the genre then or since, the tracks are watered-down reassignments of what was fashionable five years earlier, except Di Sabbatino's choices are only slightly watered-down, so that, in the context of the movie, they sound actively pleasant. As Larry Norman asked, why should the devil have all the good music?
Decasia (2002)
All the lonely filmstrips, where do they all belong?
The screening I saw had a very low walkout rate for an experimental movie, although admittedly the audience were mostly students taking Berkeley's avant-garde film course, so they probably had to be there. Poor kids, you might say, but this'll probably be one of the high points of their semester. It'll take you a few minutes to flesh out the decay metaphor (even film doesn't last forever so what chance do we puny humans have, etc.) but surprisingly a large proportion of the imagery continues to be affecting beyond that point.
The game I play when viewing an unannotated found-footage work is to discover what scenes the filmmaker's way of seeing enhances, and why. I could draw up a list of (possibly false) dichotomies - human vs architectural, familiar vs exotic. The one that struck me, though, was documentary vs fiction. Bill Morrison (the same guy who worked on Futurama? Really?) uses excerpts from both categories, but all of the scenes that moved me were unscripted. When I watch a silent fiction film, the image on the screen is evidence that the characters, and thus the stars, are alive. When I watch old documentary footage, the first thought that comes to mind is "These guys must all be dead by now". Perhaps that's why I slightly prefer Gianikian's and Lucchi's all-doco "From the Pole to the Equator", even though that film makes "Decasia" seem as watchable as "Fantasia".
But probably a pertinent reason is "From the Pole to the Equator" has a more useful soundtrack. Gordon's "Decasia" symphony sounds like a parody of Glass, which of course is still better than the score to "The Hours". My favourite bit of "Decasia" is when a long take of nuns 'n' schoolgirls is accompanied by a seemingly infinite collection of continuously descending string lines. Interestingly, Gordon reverses this trick at the end, using ascending lines, and it sounds just like the Beatles' "A Day in the Life". I would've been happier if Morrison had set the film to "Sgt. Pepper", as long as I didn't have to see decaying footage of Peter Frampton.
Obscure references aside, "Decasia" is better than most avant-garde films because the pictures look nice, the same way a body lying in state looks nice, only better. Morrison is an outstanding undertaker.
Jigureul jikyeora! (2003)
Another month, another bad Korean movie
The South Koreans I know are impossibly kind, gentle people, so why are their movies so full of sadism? This isn't as clearly worthless as "Shiri" - it's at least got a lot of ideas, except none of them are any good. Well, maybe one or two - it finally manages a couple of good expositional gags a hour and a half in, when the true nature of the alien menace is revealed, but then it wrecks everything by showing footage of Auschwitz and other atrocities, which is astoundingly bad form when you've been trying to wring laughs out of your characters' pain. At best, you could argue that this was the point - the filmmakers no doubt think they're indicting the species; in fact, they're only indicting themselves.
If you thought "The Passion" was hilarious, here's your movie.
Edifício Master (2002)
They should dedicate a whole TV channel to this
Imagine it: The Human Network. Reality TV that actually has something to do with reality; that gets to the essence of how people are. Like a music video channel, except instead they show clips of everyday people from a building in Copacabana (or a farm in Kansas, or a kibbutz in Israel), each talking for two or five minutes about what makes them happy and what makes them not - you'd never run out of material; people could even send in their own tapes ("America's Humanest Home Videos"), although this would also give them the freedom to do useless things. There are no useless things here, although some moments are better than others: it was the expansion of the old stereotypes that really got to me - so this is how a hooker with a heart of gold feels about being one; and here's the sort of guy Sinatra sang "My Way" for. It's rather uncinematic, though - I wish they had found a way to edit the material into something denser, perhaps by organising it thematically. And there isn't that sense of the institution as an organism, that Frederick Wiseman would've evoked. Hence I don't know if what you see here is any more worthwhile than chatting to each of the other people in the theatre with you, but when did you last do that? The movie's moderately recommended, the TV channel idea is something you should urge Ted Turner to do.
Funny Ha Ha (2002)
Well I can't get this movie out of my head so I'll have to write about it.
The movie is about real life only in that it's about the lives of the people making the film - maybe your life is totally different (mine is fairly similar except that it has a somewhat lower concentration of white people), but there's a rule of thumb that the only way a twentysomething can make a first-rate film is by making it autobiographical, Welles-sized geniuses notwithstanding. Within this study of the way this one particular social group moves, the universal is the depiction of class-within-class: no matter what your scene is, there's always the relatively cool and the relatively nerdy. Marnie swings between these poles, represented by the irresponsible yet irrepressible Alex and the radiantly hapless Mitchell. John Cassavetes's "Shadows", the stylistic root of this movie, was about a black woman light-skinned enough to pass for white; here, Marnie is a nerd who's pretty enough to pass for cool. All her friends are hipsters, and they're great people, smart and funny, but fitting in with them requires a certain sense of entitlement or meta-ironic-something that's not in her nature, which is why she feels more comfortable with Mitchell - but he's a total geek, and geeks are like, geeky. Of course she should snap out of it, either elope with Mitchell or open a bar or join the revolution, but life usually doesn't work that way.
Bujalski's adoration of his cast recalls Cameron Crowe: everybody is a star, but then again, they are all his friends. If you liked "Almost Famous" then you'll like this, as long as you can handle the 16mm budget. If you didn't like "Almost Famous", well, this is plausibly even better so you still might like it. If you like this, watch some Charles Burnett (I'm thinking of the short "When It Rains", hope you can find it) - he explores a totally different community in a similar way.
Ce jour-là (2003)
A few good murder gags
In this comedy of homicidal manners, people keep trying to kill both the sprite-like madwoman Livia (Elsa Zylberstein, gorgeously weightless) and her would-be assassin, the tottering madman Pointpoirot (Bernard Giraudeau, appropriately blank), and naturally there's a huge inheritance and a government conspiracy involved. Ruiz's staging is flawless, and the killing scenes in particular are exemplary - he knows when it's funnier to follow the characters, and when it's funnier to sit the camera dead still. I don't know if it all means any more than "Battle Royale" - Zylberstein said that Ruiz came to the conclusion in mid-shoot that it was a metaphor for Pinochet's violence, which may or may not be consistent with what we see on screen. Still, at least it takes the trouble to set up jokes properly, and it's not till the last third that they start seeming repetitive. I'm more or less neutral on this one.
Suite Habana (2003)
Like a nature documentary with people...
...and more importantly, with a decent structure. The conceit - cut between a dozen people living in Havana to show what a day in the life of the city is like - is immensely appealing to the humanist in me. But it's more like a dream of what Havana's like - everybody's noble; there's no signs of crime or any danger. It's like one of those films where the director tries to recreate his idyllic childhood, except it's set in the present. The radical in me would like to point out the "characters" invariably feel like stereotypes (except maybe the clown-doctor) - of course a lot of people do feel like stereotypes, and there's a lot of life in them; but in my experience a lot of people are also staunchly individual, and unless the Cold War propaganda was right this must be true in Cuba as well. So my reactions to the characters are just my stereotypical ones. Fathers caring for their sons are always sweet; infallible yet world-weary elders are always less so.
Much of the time this feels like a Kodak ad. That's still better than "Winged Migration". If you've got enough humanist in you, you'll find this warm enough and pretty enough to be worthwhile.
The Saddest Music in the World (2003)
The real universal language - music or cinema?
I don't like this as much as other Maddin work I've seen - in "The Heart of the World" you get the overpoweringly graceful ending four minutes in; here you have to wait an hour and a half, and the effect's lessened by its inevitability. Up till then, it's wackiness all the way, in terms of both plot and visuals. The visual wackiness is more substantial - if you're never seen any of his work before, you might find this unwatchable (go track down "The Heart of the World" and watch it a dozen times). The graininess is, as always, an aesthetic statement, a throwdown to audiences who effectively boycott Chaplin and Eisenstein because of technological distance. Still, this isn't as sensual as his Dracula film, which I think is largely because it's too cold to be sensual in Winnipeg.
The plot wackiness (how much is Ishiguro's and how much is Maddin's is hard to guess) is generally amusing, but the gags don't add up to much - even the timely satire of American imperialism is mid-level South Park at best. I think the problem here is that Maddin doesn't love songs like he does movies (but what do expect from someone who adores the silents?). Besides the Jerome Kern, the only tune that registers is the beer ad jingle, which is almost worthy of "The Who Sells Out" but lasts mere seconds. And the sad music isn't really that sad; I wished that the Scottish team could've put their bagpipes down and sung one of those old highland ballads about one's lass being eaten by Nessie or whatever.
You should still see this film, because the ending is indeed overpoweringly graceful, and where else are you going to see Isabella Rossellini as a double amputee?
The actual saddest music in the world, by the way, is either the Beatles' "Ticket to Ride" (U.K.) or Throw's "Honeyblonde" (New Zealand).
Mahagonny (1980)
Unmaking a mess
(Contains spoilers, in as much as you can give spoilers for a non-narrative film.) At first it seems to be an exploration of symmetry. The screen's divided into quadrants (originally meant to be projected separately but now amalgamated on 35mm), with a vertical line of symmetry down the centre. Initially I was perturbed by the slight overlap between the images on the left and right sides, then about fifteen minutes in, the symmetry itself started to become oppressive. Eventually I became desensitised to this, and started to notice patterns and quirks - for example, movement out from the centre tended to be gentle and lyrical, while movement towards the centre tended to be chaotic - that may or may not have actually been there. Soon I started to get wrapped up in the imagery, especially the abstract animation - pigments or is it chalk dust getting mixed on the floor; monochrome spirals that special effects guys on Fifties sci-fi films would've wet themselves over. Then the following happened, not necessarily in this order: the spirals reversed; the first act (of three) of the Brecht/Weill opera that plays throughout ended; and the symmetry finally broke, and I h ad to restrain myself from clapping out of relief.
Ironically things went downhill from there, as any remaining structure only ever existed in Harry Smith's fertile imagination. Sick of endless shots of geometrically arranged plastic shapes, and even worse, trees, I took a long drinks break in the lobby. When I returned, I was initially amused by the right pair of images being identical except for a short time delay - about as close as film can get to a literal exploration of resonance. This got boring pretty quick, though. Eventually this finished, and we got the big scenes - the sequence shown in reverse showing the (again literal) deconstruction of a pile of junk on the floor. And Patti Smith. And that was it.
In summary, Brecht and Weill should've seen this coming and written a one-and-a-half act opera. (**1/2)
The Matrix Revolutions (2003)
The Matrix Re-Edited
Hey, multimedia geeks! Yeah, I know you're out there! Would one of you do us all the favour of editing "Reloaded" and "Revolutions" into a single good movie? The Wachowskis must've realised they didn't have enough killer stuff to justify two first-rate new Matrices, but, money being there to be made, they went ahead anyway. This means the last two movies have been marred by far too many dead scenes - tender moments between Neo and Trinity, generating as much heat as a wooden block being rubbed against a plastic block; minor characters from whom the only amusement I could derive was guessing whether or not they'd get squished into machine oil; and stupefyingly misjudged subplots (see, there's the real world, and there's the Matrix, and then there's this other world as well - if Neo thinks he's stuck in a place where nothing's happening, what about the audience?)
So if you geeks would take the highway chase from "Reloaded", all of Mr and Mrs Merovingian's scenes, and all the big action sequences from the final hour of this one, and add just enough plot (err on the side of minimalism), you should come up with something that I'd actually watch again.
Still wouldn't be as good as the first one, though. (**1/2)