independent film

Zero Bridge

brittany — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Scenes from this film and the emotions they elicited continued to resonate in my mind for hours after I saw it. Zero Bridge is an understated yet profound film that shows us a slice of life in Kashmir, a place most of us know little about.

The story follows Dilawar, a seventeen-year-old Kashmiri boy that lives with his uncle and is struggling to find his way. He is driven by a desire to leave Kashmir and hopefully join his adoptive mother in Delhi. In order to secure the means necessary to escape, he is led to take money for doing other people’s homework and become a pickpocket. During an errand at a shipping company, he meets Bani, a woman who happens to be one of his pickpocket victims. Their connection turns out to be deeper than a coincidental meeting. First time director and writer Tariq Tapa, an American of Kashmiri and Jewish descent grew up spending summers in Indian-administered Kashmir. Through his personal observations and commitment to telling a story about the region that doesn't fall into Bollywood or Hollywood stereotypes, he created Zero Bridge.

The film was shot entirely on location in Kashmir, India’s northern most state, which borders Tibet and Pakistan. In 1947, India and Pakistan gained independence from Britain and soon after the two nations went to war over Kashmir. Although a border called “line of control” has been established between Indian and Pakistani Kashmir, conflict remains an issue in the region. Most recently, unarmed civilians have led uprisings against the Indian army every year since 2006.

Filming in this setting makes for a harsh working environment that blends together with the splendor of Kashmir’s landscape to create an intriguing contrast. One of the strongest moments of displaying this contradiction came after a demoralizing scene between Dilawar and his uncle where the audience doesn’t actually see the characters, but they feel the intensity of an abusive relationship. This scene was followed directly by a moment of a serene sunset over the mountains, effectively helping to ease the tension. The politics of Kashmir never take center stage in the film but seem to linger as a supporting cast member. News stories from newspapers and on the radio permeate the background in many scenes. Although the film is not overtly political, it does give a voice for the region and, I believe, will motivate the audience to learn more about the contested territory.

I came to care about the main characters without consciously realizing it was happening. The subtle nature of the film is felt in the relationship that grows between Dilawar and Bani. My favorite scene in the whole movie features this pair engaging in a game of chess. Not very many words are spoken, but you can feel a strong yet innocent flirtation that many of us aspire to have in our lives from time to time. Their relationship feels like a breath of fresh air amid the challenges that both the characters and the setting are enduring.

A feeling I continued to have throughout the film was one of being trapped, whether by culture, family, or actual borders. There is a powerful juxtaposition in the characters’ desire to literally break away from Kashmir and metaphorically break away from family expectations. Although we don’t all face such restrictive cultural obstacles like arranged marriages, many of us face growing pains while becoming independent adults.

Written by: Andrea Hance, February 15th 2011

Threads of Hope

farhana — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Directed by Amanda Ibrahim

Ferasha Films

I have to admit to watching this film with much trepidation. Too many films and documentaries are dedicated to analyzing the poor state of women’s lives in the developing world, but few dedicate their focus to researching and explicating the systemic inequalities rooted in patriarchy, that exist to reinforce women’s conditions. However, while watching I was determined to keep an open mind and value the work and perspective of a young woman of color, endeavoring to make a difference in the world by documenting women’s lives in Kolkata, India.

This is a short piece by American student Amanda Ibrahim, who with a scholarship, traveled to India for two weeks to document the effects of the ConneXions vocational training on the women who worked in the training center. ConneXions, Ibrahim narrates, focuses on creating job opportunities for women by training and employing them in fair trade textile production. One of the stated aims is to make women self-dependent while providing them with an opportunity to help their family with money.

Though the camerawork was good, the footage was quite limited. Only a few people and places in Kolkata were included in the film. Much of the filming was done at the center with the management team and the women participants. When the women were depicted, they were always carrying out particular gendered roles, including cooking, cleaning, dancing and sewing. When they were interviewed, they seemed shy, awkward and as though either reading from a cue card or being prompted by the person next to the camera. Two women, Shibani and Krishna were interviewed more extensively, and both assert that through their work at ConneXions their lives have been transformed; they can now afford to put food on the table and pay for their children’s schooling. At one point, Shibani proudly states that everything she makes goes to her family and children. At this point, one could probably ascertain the reasons for women being the recipients of this program.

Though I appreciate the altruistic aspirations of the ConneXions project, this film, and the limitations I expect Ibrahim experienced, the main contentions I have with this film all relate to its limited analysis.

My lesser contention is the overarching theme of Christian ministering that ran throughout the film. The film opens with the words of a Christian prayer, and you later learn that the ConneXions vocational training center was founded by a Swedish couple, who had come to Kolkata as Christian missionaries through the non profit organization Servants to Asia’s Urban Poor. The homepage of Servants states that these Christian communities participate with the poor to bring hope and justice through Jesus Christ. All of the managers state their Christian position, and one in particular states that she teaches the women the gospel. What you don’t know by watching this film is whether the women are coerced into listening to the gospel or converting religions in order to access the training program. I am always weary of Christian missions particularly considering its mostly violent history with Canadian, South American, and Australian indigenous communities. That an immediate alliance and little analysis is done on the role of Christian ministering in the slums of India indicates the religious bias and socio-political naivety of the director.

My greatest contention with this film is its focus on female empowerment through Christian vocational training. I don’t dispute that the women are becoming empowered by receiving trained in textile production, and having then the potential to seek employment in the tailoring industry. However, the explicit goal of achieving empowerment through becoming self-dependent does not stand up against the stated end-result of these women spending everything they earn on their family. Self-sufficiency does not always equate empowerment. This is encapsulated in the comment of one of the young girls interviewed who shares innocently that she will have to leave the center in the very near future because she has to get married and will soon be just a housewife. This project perceives these women as simply reproducers and passive recipients of services. It offers a band aid solution to women’s disproportionate poverty by training them in a skill that would lead them to meeting their most basic needs, without addressing systemic gender inequity and the social, economic and political relations between men and women that perpetuate women’s oppression in India.

Ibrahim ends her film by depicting a group of smiling women, stating that the women who work at the center are blessed with deep friendships, which might be true, but which functions to generalize and romanticize the experiences of these women without providing evidence to support this statement, masking their relations with each other and with the center's management.

An interesting short film by a young female filmmaker, admirably attempting to foreground women’s lived experiences in the developing world. I only hope that her future directorial endeavors offer more mature and critical analysis.

Written by: Toni Francis, January 12th 2011

Trailerpark

annette — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Directed by Patrick Muhlberger, Jonny Look

MDIA419 Productions

Trailerpark is a student-made feature length production by Ohio University’s MDIA 419 course. It is based on the book of the same title by award–winning author Russell Banks.

Despite an initial comment by another viewer that the sound quality was not good, we both agreed that visually, the film had much to offer, and that story-wise, there was a lot of (mostly) intriguing information to absorb. The first half of the film takes us directly to the trailer park, and right into the chaotic dynamics of the characters’ lives. The park itself is quaint; it sits beside a tranquil lake and the trailers range from tidy and finely decorated to decrepit bordering on vacant, or at the very least neglected. This early observation helped me to understand one of the subplots that emerges later in the film: the park “landlord,” Marcelle, is attempting to fill all of the trailers in the park. Meanwhile, she is forced to hound some tenants for their monthly rent. Ultimately and unfortunately, unpaid rent ends up being one of the least pressing problems on Marcelle’s growing shit list.

In these early stages, the relationships between characters are not clear, and honestly, some relationships aren’t really explained until the very end of the film. For me, as a viewer who has not read the novel by Banks, this was a source of frustration. I found myself asking, “What’s with the looks between Doreen and Terry?” “Why is Knox spying on Flora?” One of the characters even took the words right out of my mouth when he asked his neighbor, “How come you never work?” Perhaps a viewer who has read the novel that the film is based upon would be amused by this deliberate (?) withholding of information. Sometimes it is fun to see relationships unfold. But most of the time, it’s helpful to know why you are supposed to care about what is happening between particular characters.

However slow to reveal themselves, by the end of the film I had a solid idea of the motivations behind certain people. I had a better idea about their individual stories. And by having this information, I was able to care about the various woes that surrounded them. And although there were fairly long portions of dialogue with little to no action, the trailer park wasn’t a quiet place. Theft, fire, kindness, murder, and a winning lottery ticket make their way into the residents’ lives as well.

Trailerpark was a good film, but it could have offered me more reasons as to why I should be invested in the plight of the characters. Perhaps if there were fewer characters in the film, more time could have been devoted to assessing these characters’ psychological hang-ups, previous relations with each other, or explaining how they ended up in this particular place. At one point, Flora defends a very questionable practice to her neighbors, telling them “What might look worse and worse for you, might look better for me.” For those who have read the novel, the delayed and somewhat chaotic cohesion of characters may make the film better, more intriguing, and ultimately more enjoyable. For viewers like me, who desperately needed some kind of Trailerpark compass at the film’s outset, it made my experience worse.

Written by: Rachel Muzika Scheib, January 8th 2011

Los Canallas (Podría Ser Peor)

annette — Fri, 24 Sep 2010 02:00:00 +0000

Directed by Cristina Franco

INCINE

Los Canallas are a jolly group of scoundrels, featured in this film, written, shot, edited and promoted by a gang of enthusiastic Acting and Directing students. These young people make up the very first promotion of the newly minted film program in Ecuador. This strange and stimulating film received third place at the Montreal World Film Festival in 2008, for the best opera prima, and is now available to English-speaking audiences (and well subtitled, be it said in passing).

Reminiscent of similar films from other Latin American countries (such as Uruguayan directors Pablo Stoll y Juan Pablo Rebella’s film entitled 25 Watts from 2001), this innovative feature is a fresh look at youth culture in Ecuador, a subject that certain viewing cultures, Western and North-Americans in particular, are not often party to. Innovatively filmed and edited, it is presented as the first feature-length film by the young Cristina Franco and her classmates–they are too numerous to name, but all fulfill at least one role (and up to four) in the acting and various tasks associated with making the film. I mention Franco because she has a central role and is quite entertaining as the young girl whose failed suicide attempts frame the first part of the film.

Centered around three separate but interlinked sections, the film speaks to the general problems of youth in Ecuador. The first section entitled, “We all love Helena so much” features a funny cameo by established Ecuadorian actress Ruth Basante as the grandmother who, in one of the funniest scenes of the film, walks in on her granddaughter’s prospective boyfriend as he is in the restroom, relieving himself on Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Not the subtlest message in the film, but amusing nonetheless.

“There are low blows in life”, the second section of the film, features an intense boxer, shot in close ups, who is definitely not meant for the sport. Perhaps the weakest part in terms of writing, this section is however beautifully shot.

In the third section (and ironically, the darkest in terms of shots), entitled “Those whom you meet, those who stay, those who are,” speaks to some of the difficulties facing the students who often leave for other countries where Latin American cinema may prosper: Argentina is mentioned. This note is not a coincidence since Argentina has recently had one of the most vibrant cinemas in Latin America, with a win for Best Foreign Film at the Oscars in 2010 for The Secret in Their Eyes (directed by Juan Jose Campanella).

Shot around the stunning and beautifully captured city of Quito, we must lament that the students did not make more extensive use of their environment. This film brings to the forefront the problems and class differences which are inherent to this society culture. It also tackles some taboo subjects such as masturbation, religion (sometimes cleverly intertwined), voyeurism, poverty and vagrancy. It is an interesting and quirky first film, well worth a look at, despite its often shocking and occasionally crude content.

This candid attempt by the students to make a film (or three) should not be overlooked since it bodes well for the future of cinema in Ecuador. Let’s hope that not all of the graduating class has to move to Argentina to find work!

Written by: Sophie M. Lavoie, September 23rd 2010

The Girl on the Train

admin — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by André Téchiné

Strand Releasing

Upon watching The Girl on the Train, it may not be immediately obvious that this is based on a real event: the 2004 scandal in which Marie-Leonie Leblanc fabricated an anti-Semitic attack by six Arab youth. In fact, the film’s lead character, Jeanne (Émilie Dequenne), seems like a typical teen in need of inspiration.

Minutes into the film, a man (Nicolas Duvauchelle) appears alongside her, rollerblading, and promises to be the thing that she has been missing. Cautiously, she allows him into her life, even after her mother (played with regal poise by Catherine Deneuve) notes an element of aggression.

As their affair unravels, it’s easy to empathize with the shocked Jeanne as she obeys the man's request that she leave. She runs home, and watches television with her mother. As her mother sits beside her, Jeanne appears to be watching a historical program about the Holocaust. At first glance, it appears that she is sympathizing with the victims of the atrocities.

Philippe Sarde’s fluid music arrangements provide sensations of desire and confusion, which are expressed by most of the characters in the film. In addition, the gentle tone is established by the supporting cast, which features Michel Blanc as Samuel Bleistein, Mathieu Demy as Alex, and the enigmatic Ronit Elkabetz as Judith. Director André Téchiné’s inclusion of the larger historical context of racism achieves the film’s outstanding quality: a compassionate depiction of Jeanne’s misguided tactic for being loved.

Written by: Maria Guzman, September 2nd 2010

Maria's Story: Twenty Years Later

admin — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 00:53:00 +0000

Interview with Monona Wali, Pamela Cohen

Earlier this month, I saw a twentieth anniversary screening of Maria's Story: A Documentary Portrait Of Love And Survival In El Salvador's Civil War at The Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts in San Francisco. Before attending, I had an abbreviated understanding El Salvadorian politics, and the subject of the documentary, Maria Serrano. Filmed in 1989 by two young American women, Maria's Story reveals the daily struggles and heartbreaking memories that lay in the wake of the political unrest that ravaged her town in El Salvador. The film chronicled a two-month journey for all involved. Ultimately, the film unfolds into a narrative about Maria’s role as a leader of a Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front (FMLN) guerrilla camp, which was about being a mother, wife, and a community member. I recently spoke with the directors of the film, longtime friends Pamela Cohen and Monona Wali.

Were there moments during the filming of Maria's Story in which you felt that there were advantages to your position as women directors?

Pamela Cohen: I don’t know if a male director would have been drawn to Maria in the same way we were. We chose to put a female face on this war; we wanted to address the Che Guevara guerrilla image, because that’s not who was on the front lines.

Monona Wali: Because we are women, we were sensitive and committed to the human side of the story. There were times when we were drawn to the bigger side of the war, but beyond knowing the statistics, the instinct to stay close to Maria and stay close to her came from being women and cementing the relationship with her, which was affectionate, playful, and serious. I don’t know that a man would have been able to get that close.

Emeteria and Maria, two members of the community, discussed losing their daughters in the war. Hearing the details of how young women were victims in violent attacks in El Salvadorian towns effected me greatly. What were those moments like for you as directors?

Monona: With Emeteria, we had gone first to be with her in ’88 and lived in a repopulated community named Guarjila that we were going to use as a base camp. We had equipment, and it turned out that there was a huge military offensive, and we were stuck in a village. Emeteria was taking care of us; she was our mother during that time. It was the day of remembering the dead. She had come to San Jose Las Flores to be a part of that and knew us. We asked her, “How do you feel about this day?”

For Maria, it started in the bathing scene, and it came up spontaneously. We just wanted to get a scene. Every time Jose showed up, we turned the camera on because we didn’t know when they were going to be together again.

Pamela: But then we asked about it, and we knew we had to sit down with her to talk about it—that was separate. She was out of the country when Ceci was killed in ’87. That may be why she wouldn’t let go of Mijita (her youngest daughter) and made her a personal radio operator for the rest of the war.

How did your awareness about some of the issues raised in the film affect your work?

Pamela: It was six or eight months before we started editing. We thought, “After what we’ve been through… how can people not care?” We just felt like everyone had to know and were determined to finish it.

Cross-posted at Gender Across Borders

Written by: Maria Guzman, July 29th 2010

The Last Days of Emma Blank

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 15:55:00 +0000

Directed by Alex van Warmerdam

Fortissimo Films

Emma Blank believes death is eminent. Surrounded by a sulky if compliant staff in her large home near the Dutch dunes, she shouts absurd orders in between bemoaning her fate. “Don’t worry,” she assures her impatient employees. “Before winter, I’ll be dead.”

Emma’s character is frustratingly distempered. Seemingly with no idea what is good for her, she demands an eel for breakfast, then violently vomits while her staff stands around shaking their heads with annoyance. It’s clear no one in the house has any sympathy for her condition, whatever mysterious ailment it may be. Meijer, the houseboy, expresses his hatred by mowing a swastika into the front yard. In cyclical fashion, Emma returns their collective disdain, at one point exclaiming, “It’s as if I’m surrounded by a bunch of toddlers with brain damage! Do your work with devotion, with a smile. Is that too much to ask?”

For much of the film, it is difficult to discern the relationship between Emma and her staff. Gonnie could be her daughter, or it could be a case of Emma’s misplaced affection. Meijer could be Gonnie’s cousin, or her boyfriend. In the beginning, Haneveld appears to be Emma’s husband, lying beside her in bed when she requests and adhering a fake moustache to his upper lip when she demands that he do so. Yet Bella, who appears to be the head of the waitstaff, also makes snide comments to Haneveld. “I’m not giving you another hand job for a while,” she threatens. Are they having an affair? What’s really going on here? How do these people know each other, and what the hell does it all mean?

Most alarming and the one truly humorous aspect of the film, Theo (played by director van Warmerdam), a fully-grown man, acts the part of the household dog, alternately bringing in dead peasants, humping Emma’s chair, and shitting in the yard. Does he think he’s a dog? Is this poor casting? Is it some sort of allegory about the plight of enslaved humans?

The central plot device—if, like me, you are unable to decipher what’s happening before it is actually revealed—happens roughly an hour into the film. With less than thirty minutes left to tie up loose ends, including Emma’s inevitable demise, the film rushes to an end and leaves several major storylines intentionally up in the air. Will the hired help inherit the house? Will their relationships survive in the wake of their time with their she-devil employer?

In Dutch with English subtitles, this truly bizarre, dark, situational comedy isn’t for everyone; frankly, I find it a stretch to label The Last Days of Emma Blank a comedy at all. But if you like feeling ill at ease, a bit discombobulated, or even thoroughly annoyed by what people will do for money, this bewilderingly strange film is for you.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, July 19th 2010

Leading Ladies

admin — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 07:58:00 +0000

Directed by Erika Randall Beahm, Daniel Beahm

It may seem quite an impossibility, but the film Leading Ladies is, simply put, a quietly revolutionary dance musical. While most dance musicals (think Dirty Dancing, Save the Last Dance) center on the boy-meets-girl heterosexual love match, Leading Ladies is a beautifully wrought girl-meets-girl story. It is simultaneously a dance musical, coming-of-age story, and coming-out narrative. The power of the film comes from its ability to maintain the generic conventions of the story while completely rejecting the hetero-normativity that is typically the narrative thrust of the genre. What’s perhaps even more amazing is that Leading Ladies succeeds at thwarting convention within a conventional structure while simultaneously being a whole lot of damn fun. Lesser films would sink under such weight.

Helmed by first-time directors Erika Randall Beahm and Daniel Beahm, this joyous film tells the story of the Campari women. The matriarch of the family is ballroom-dancing stage mom Sheri, played by Latin and Ballroom Champion Melanie LaPatin. Sheri has two daughters: like-minded drama queen and dancing champion Tasi (Shannon Lea Smith), and Toni (Laurel Vail), Tasi’s practice partner and the wallflower of the family. The film centers on Toni’s relationships, particularly with the emotionally volatile Tasi, and an unexpected romantic attachment to Mona (Nicole Dionne), a bubbly and outgoing woman Toni meets at a dance club. While LaPatin’s acting is a bit stiff, Smith’s neurotic and self-obsessed Tasi is played to high-pitched perfection. Vail might be the real star of this film, however, as she says more with her eyes than many actors can express with a word. She artfully plays the Ugly Duckling, the quiet witness to familial squabbles and the glue that keeps the Camparis together.

Leading Ladies has an ebb-and-flow, alternating between slow and quietly stirring scenes and vibrant, fast-paced dance numbers (most notably a hysterical and boisterous number set in a grocery store). The heart of this film beats loudly and quickly, and it leaves the viewer invigorated and deeply moved. To learn more about her hopes for the film, its generative process, and the ideological concerns that lead to its creation, I recently spoke with co-director Erika Randall Beahm.

Beahm co-wrote the film with Jennifer Bechtel, a friend and LGBT youth advocate in Champaign, Illinois, and Bechtel was struggling to find mainstream films that spoke to the young gay community. As Bechtel and Beahm perceived it, most gay and lesbian cinema tends towards violence or explicitness, while mainstream cinema features gay characters as “the sidekick.” Beahm and Bechtel thus sought to create a “family-centered gay and lesbian film for the mainstream market.” Their hope is that Leading Ladies provides gay youth with a positive portrayal of gay romantic love and thus “open a dialogue within themselves” and perhaps between gay youth and their families.

The film eschews aggressive and explicit representations of gay love for a romantic and “joyful falling in love which... straight kids get to experience in movies all the time.” Indeed, Leading Ladies treats its same-sex couple as any movie musicals’ heterosexual pairing: they meet, they dance, they fall in love. The romance is beautifully articulated through an artful juxtaposition of two dance sequences. Toni and Mona’s meeting is shot like a typical dance movie sequence—bright lights, loud music, and overhead shots looking down on the dancers. This film could be Dirty Dancing, if it weren’t for the same-sex couples dancing on stage and in the audience. Indeed, this is the goal of the film: to illustrate that dance (and by extension, romance and love) is the same for same-sex couples as it is for heterosexual partners. Toni leads Mona through a raucous, enthusiastic dance, and as convention dictates, the two find love while dancing. In a beautiful inversion of this sequence, we next find Toni in Mona’s lush apartment, where the more romantically experienced Mona takes the lead in the dance of romance. The lovers’ embrace is gorgeously shot in sensual blush tones and shadow.

For choreographer and dancer Beahm and youth musical programmer Bechtel, dance served as an obvious choice of backdrop for the love story. Beahm choreographed the film’s dances with Melanie LaPatin and Benji Schwimmer, the former So You Think You Can Dance! winner who also plays Toni’s best friend in the film. For Beahm, dance has an inherently transformative power: “There’s this kind of kinesthesia with dance that gets people to literally be moved on a physical level, and I believe also on an emotional and intellectual level.” The love scene between Mona and Toni, for example, is highly choreographed to match the non-diegetic music; Beahm suggests that this emphasis on “energy shifts… and the musicality” of the scene helps the spectator “lose sight of this being a gendered duet, and it just becomes two people moving together, falling in love.”

By emphasizing the movement and musicality of the scene, then, Beahm hopes to ease the fear of spectators who are uncomfortable with same-sex coupling and perhaps open a space for internal dialogue within the spectator: “For people who might have a hard time seeing two women... make out, it becomes this kind of transference of two bodies going through these really emotional and tender but also choreographed spaces, and so gender becomes less important.” By shifting the spectator’s focus from gender distinction to the movement of the body the film illustrates how little gender matters and how love—like dance—is a universal language. Thus the film utilizes dance to open up a space for shifting “people out of the fear they may feel if they’re watching from an outside perspective.”

Though the idea of dance as a catalyst to ideological and personal transformation may seem unusual, Beahm is quick to point out that dance has often added a “queer element” to the movie musical. In West Side Story, for example, the spectator sees groups of men “snapping and skipping” and yet the dance isn’t “sexualized, it’s charged and it’s activated.” Dancing is particularly subversive in moments of unison dancing, she suggests, when members of both sexes dance the same movements, suggesting a unity of the sexes and the democratization of the body. Leading Ladies takes this democratization one step further, rejecting the hetero-normative ballroom dance structure of male lead and female follow and replacing it with same-sex couplings. In doing so, Beahm simultaneously feeds off of the democratizing nature of dance while rejecting the rules of a dance form that reinforces gendered performance.

It is the inherent queerness in dance that Beahm finds so appealing and in tune with her views on feminism. For her, dance and feminism are “compatible” because they are both “hard to pin down” terms; their “slipperiness” as terms allows them to create spaces for dialogue and questioning. She likes her feminism to work “from the inside out,” enjoying the notion of becoming part of a system, and breaking it down from within. This is why her personal mantra is the cheeky suggestion to “wear pearls to the country club and then talk dirty.” Ultimately, Leading Ladies represents a filmic expression of this mantra—by placing non-conventional characters within a conventional generic structure, the film wears its pearls but then lets out a glorious, enthusiastic expletive as it sits down to dinner. Swearing has never been so much fun.

Written by: Joanna Chlebus, July 15th 2010

And Then Came Lola

admin — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Directed by Ellen Seidler, Megan Siler

Wolfe Video

Based loosely on the art-house classic Run Lola Run, And Then Came Lola shows photographer Lola’s desperate attempt to get to a crucial meeting on time, with her girlfriend’s career and their relationship on the line if she fails. Like the title character of Run Lola Run, Lola will get three chances to get it right, with the action resetting to the beginning after each of the first two attempts. Interspersed within and between Lola’s obstacle-filled journeys through the streets of San Francisco are on-the-couch moments with the five main characters of the film, who divulge their romantic entanglements and issues to a therapist who is more involved in the story than it first appears.

As is the case with many small-budget independent films, the technical aspects of And Then Came Lola leave a bit to be desired. The mediocre quality of the sound, lighting, and camera work can be distracting at first, but generally fade into the background once the story unfolds.

The acting ranges from mediocre to good without any really great moments, though the chemistry between Jill Bennett (as Lola’s girlfriend Casey) and Cathy DeBuono (as Casey’s ex-girlfriend Danielle) is definitely a bright spot. It is always a treat to see these two together on film as their real-life love for one another produces amazing on-screen fireworks. Unfortunately, connecting with the film requires sympathy for Lola (played by Ashleigh Summer) and her relationship with Casey, but the relative lack of chemistry between Lola and Casey leaves you rooting for Danielle.

As for the plot, while the resets of Lola’s journey are interesting (if unoriginal), the interconnectedness of the lesbodrama at the heart of the film is more than a little cliché in the lesbian film genre. Here it is difficult to tell whether cliché is completely a bad thing; however, as there is no small amount of truth in the film’s representation of the insularity and near incestuousness of the lesbian community. We lesbians do have a particularly bad habit of maintaining connections with our exes, and their exes, and their exes’ exes, and so on.

Although I recently saw And Then Came Lola on a list of the worst lesbian films, I don’t think I would go that far. It wasn’t Go Fish level bad, just a bit unsatisfying. Ultimately, it’s not a film I would watch again, considering the wide range of lesbian films now available, and it’s not one I’d recommend.

Written by: Melinda Barton, June 20th 2010

Zombies of Mass Destruction: A Political Zomedy

admin — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 09:03:00 +0000

Directed by Kevin Hamedani

Typecast Pictures

Is there anything more delightful than a well-done zombie film? How about a well-done zombie film with an obvious 9/11 parallel and smart, witty female, minority, and gay protagonists? All this and more can be yours with Zombies of Mass Destruction, which is as much social satire and metaphor as a gory, jolly, bloody good undead time.

Zombies of Mass Destruction is set in idyllic Port Gamble, Washington, on the date of September 25th, 2003. The main characters are quickly introduced with few subtle nuances, since the film is as much about stereotypes as politics and zombies, and relies heavily on quick and dirty celluloid tropes. This isn't done to quickly get a point across in a white hat/black hat sense, but to poke gentle fun at the extremes of behavior in the age of the culture wars. The living dead take over Port Gamble as the apparent result of a terrorist attack; a swarthy, turbaned, Muslim man shown on a televised news broadcast claims credit for the zombie plague.

The town reverend hates everyone a stereotypically cinematic man of the church is expected to hate (“Unitarians, gays, and pro-choicers”) and has the town mayor on his side. There's an _au natural _quasi-hippie environmentalist who abhors violence (referred to as a “godless Jezebel” by the reverend), the jingoistic flag-waving Republican who is suspicious of and hateful to anyone perceived to be the Other, and the funny-accented, dark-skinned Iranian man who runs a restaurant in town. In between this stock character parade are the protagonists: Frida, the daughter of the Iranian restaurant owner, and Tom and Lance, a gay couple visiting Port Gamble to inform Tom's mother that he is homosexual.

Frida, Tom, and Lance are given more character shading than the other roles in the film. Frida, in particular, is smart, witty, and not the usual “last girl standing.” She shuts down her ignorant boyfriend when he, like most of the townspeople, mistakes her cultural identity as Iraqi rather than Iranian by cleverly telling him, “There's Norway you're getting into these panties.” (One particular detail that also struck me was the fact that she took off her high-heeled shoes to run once the zombies began swarming the town, hence avoiding any eye-rolling “watch the silly girl fall down and twist her ankle” moments.) Tom and Lance are also quick-witted and resourceful in fending off masses of attacking zombies (including Tom's own mother), and improvise well with available zombie-killing tools.

Meanwhile, the town reverend is ecstatic at the idea of Armageddon approaching, and is convinced the “war” will be won because “history's greatest zombie is on our side.” (As someone whose favorite exclamation of surprise is “Sweet Zombie Jesus!” this had me nearly in tears.) Taking sanctuary from the zombies in the town church, the reverend, the mayor, the hippie environmentalist, Tom, Lance, and various town churchgoers find themselves at odds politically and spiritually in a fine satire of the last eight years.

Without giving too much away, the film ends in a delightfully near-sacrilegious parody of the news footage Americans will recall seeing post-9/11: hand-drawn posters of memorials and missing loved ones and sales of tacky “I Remember” t-shirts. In a televised press conference, the remaining citizens of Port Gamble are admonished to remain “vigilant” and “report suspicious behavior.” Perhaps the over-the-top political parody combined with the stringy, graphic gore of the undead is not to everyone's taste. As a lifelong zombie fan, however, I was thrilled with the film's sympathetic, if somewhat humorous, portrayals of young minority women and gay couples.

Written by: Natalie Ballard, December 8th 2009

Travel Queeries

admin — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 08:07:00 +0000

Directed by Elliat Graney-Saucke

Three Dollar Bill Cinema

I perform a comedy show with my partner at Ladyfest Berlin every year. One of the vague memories I have of our first performance was of a U.S. filmmaker named Elliat politely introducing herself at some of the shows and workshops, then asking permission to film parts of the festival for a documentary she was making. She was warm and welcoming, and people were happy to oblige. I forgot all about it, though, until I saw this blurb on a website last month:

Travel Queeries_ is a feature-length documentary film that examines the culture, art and activism of radical queers in contemporary Europe. Through personal interviews and documentation of performances, festivals, multi-media [sic] visual arts and spaces, Travel Queeries puts an exciting international lens on queer fringe culture.

I felt sure this must be the result of that film project we saw the start of several summers ago., and a little internet research proved me right. Elliat turned out to be Elliat Graney-Saucke of Three Dollar Bill Cinema. Pleased as I was to feel some vicarious satisfaction at the piece coming to fruition, as a queer artist and activist living in Europe, I also had high expectations for the finished product. I wondered if I’d automatically be biased toward the film, and whether I’d be a fair reviewer. Eventually, I decided I could potentially be one of its worst critics—easily able to spot glosses or discrepancies in the narrative or perspective, and see through any objectification of a vibrant subculture. So I watched it.

This film is excellent.

Interviewees seem at ease, positive, knowledgeable, and forthcoming. Unofficial spokespeople give articulate and emotive views on issues from those as broad as the definition of queerness to specific reasoned hypotheses about links between queer culture and squatting, immigration, and drag performance, for example. Their answers are interwoven so that, even though participants may be separated by time or distance, their answers resonate with and build upon each other, providing rich coverage of an often ignored scene.

Graney-Saucke’s voice is unique, and her style is very readable. Well-chosen stock footage (sometimes including footage taken by other independent queer artists and activists) and a variety of quirky and charming multimedia animations balance out the interviews and further illustrating both fact and emotion. My partner and I were delighted to see one or two familiar performers and interview subjects on screen.

Despite the familiarity, we kept exclaiming over the detailed coverage of events we had only third-hand knowledge of, such as fascist protests against pride marches in Eastern Europe. Travel Queeries is an important film in terms of both transmitting a snapshot to outsiders and as an archival resource for the community it explores. It is particularly successful in making the term queer more tangible for viewers who might not understand it, without excluding or admonishing those who don’t embrace the idea of queerness.

Though the majority of the interviews were conducted in English, Graney-Saucke chose to subtitle the entire film, and also offers a wide variety of foreign-language subtitles for screenings in different countries. I can’t applaud this enough, and found my experience of the film greatly enhanced by the open captioning. (The post-production team may like to take the opportunity to fix some typos and misspellings in the current set of English captions, which slightly detract from an otherwise slick execution.)

Great joy emanates from Travel Queeries and stays with the viewer: from the pride and confidence of the participants, through the clever soundtrack featuring independent and queer musicians, and finally from all of the art featured throughout. Though some discussion points provide more questions than answers, the whole picture is one of intelligent and thoughtful inclusion and exploration of many cultural possibilities. The production company does not yet have a distributor for the film, but is currently touring it around festivals this year in cities across the U.S., Canada, and Europe. See it.

Written by: Chella Quint, December 5th 2009

It Was Great, But I Was Ready To Come Home

admin — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

Directed by Kris Swanberg

The mythical tropical vacation: surfing, tequila, half-naked beauties, sunsets, dancing, delicious food, and life-changing vistas. It Was Great, But I Was Ready To Come Home strips the glorified ideal of self-discovery down to its reality: bugs, dodgy tacos, heat, dodgy people, heat, dodgy beds, and heat.

I watched this film with a half dozen expatriate women living in Mexico City. All of us are travelers; we've backpacked and we have our own stories that could fill up the big screen. So why would this movie be worth watching? Why not just sit around and tell stories about events that actually happened? Because we're not filmmakers. We're not storytellers. And in her first feature film, Kris Swanberg proves she is.

It Was Great, But I Was Ready To Come Home is about a young city girl who goes on a proverbial Costa Rica trip with her best friend. They embark in their rental car with maps, big backpacks, rudimentary Spanish, and some farcical American mores. The dramatic scenery changes from one village to the next, but the plot stays simple: a girl has her heart broken by her boyfriend and goes to paradise with her long-time friend to conquer her demons. Unfortunately, heartbreak is not simple, and tequila does not drive away demons.

Dialogue between the girls reveals two very different perspectives on relationships. The endearing Annie (played by Swanberg herself) has a woe-is-me point of view of someone going through the first big breakup. Her friend, Cam (played by Jade Healy) is more jaded and cynical—someone who has already started closing the door on romantic emotions, and simultaneously, on the pitiful Annie.

This movie is surprisingly good, and extremely indie. It exists somewhere between truth and fiction, scripts and improv, a movie and the looking glass. It is relatable, as there are moments where you want to stand up and say, "Yes! Thank you! It is annoying when your friend is more charming and sexy and happy than you are." Swanberg and her small crew capture subtle and honest moments with characters that are far from glamorous, and as likable as they are unlikable.

Near the end of their trip, Annie walks alone through the village streets to find water for the pitiful Cam. (Ah, how the tables can turn!) There is not much to say about the scene other than that it is perfect. If you have ever been to a place where you don’t look right, speak right, or feel right, you will empathize with our doe-eyed Annie.

We expats laughed a lot, yelled at the screen, and the recently brokenhearted among us even cried. This movie is not about two bubbly friends who travel to an eco-tourist destination, but quite tritely, it's about the universal journey we all share.

Written by: Katy Pine, December 2nd 2009

Umbrella

admin — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 17:20:00 +0000

Directed by Cat Tyc

From the get-go, I felt like I was cheating by reading director Cat Tyc’s explanation of her intentions for this film. But how could I not? They were listed directly below the film clip I watched on Vimeo. If I hadn’t read about Tyc’s process, and then later, gone on to read the short story in which the film was loosely based, Fernando Sorrentino’s “There Is A Man in the Habit of Hitting Me Over the Head with an Umbrella,” I’m not sure what I would have taken away from this piece.

The short film depicts a pretty young woman who is—as the title suggests—constantly being followed by a man in the habit of hitting her over the head with an umbrella. Tyc reveals in her written disclosure that the main character is dealing with an abortion, and while there are instances where this is pretty directly clear, they are somewhat fleeting and you could easily miss them, or at least confuse them and take the film to mean something else entirely.

The flashes of babies and children and body parts while she sits in a nightgown on the doctor’s examining table. The out-of-it state the main character is in when engaged in a conversation with her friend; the appointment she alludes to in that same instance, and the carefully worded language the girl uses with her therapist about how the man didn’t exactly bludgeon her, “he was merely tapping, not causing any pain at all.”

She might have been getting tested for STDs, or following up on a previous doctor visit, her condition unknown. If the viewer blinks his or her eyes a few seconds, the main character might have been dealing with a death in the family, a bad dream, or a memory from her childhood she had since blocked out.

The short story also paints a picture rather vague in its meaning, not to mention with a varied gender setup. “There's a Man in the Habit of Hitting Me on the Head with an Umbrella” has a distinct emotive quality and certainly reoccurring themes, but these too remain ambiguous and largely up for interpretation. Readers had varied guesses about the author’s intentions. Guilty conscience, bad habit, and severe addiction were among the top choices. Laughter was key, as well, yet some found the story to be of the utmost seriousness.

Personally, the film itself struck a chord in me that was different than any I had read about regarding the story. I thought the umbrella, if not too obvious of a metaphor, represented the constant nagging we carry around with us at all times—not guilt exactly—but pressure and anxiety that comes from responsibility, conflict, and perhaps past decisions we’ve made that follow us around constantly and haunt us.

The power of the umbrella seemed to snap the girl in and out of reality, as if to show the two contradictory emotions she forever struggled with. One is to come to peaceful terms with the man, to accept the constant tapping, as it isn’t painful to her necessarily, but certainly annoying, as she admits. The other, of course, is to feel utterly bothered by this ever-present and inescapable force lingering around her. Whether abiding closely with the director’s intentions or choosing your own viewing path, Umbrella absolutely succeeds in creating an emotional piece of work. I can only imagine this short conjures up whatever it is the man in the habit of hitting the film’s star over the head with an umbrella, represents for you.

Written by: Jesse Sposato, August 22nd 2009

Sheltered Life

admin — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 09:04:00 +0000

Directed by Carl Laudan

Violator Films

Sheltered Life is a very confusing film to watch and to review. For the first hour or so, it’s brilliant. For the last ten or fifteen minutes, it’s absurd and rather disappointing. The acting ranges from the passable to the extraordinary as does the editing and cinematography. There isn’t much I can write without wanting to take it back a few sentences later, but be patient; I’ll try to find a point somewhere.

The film is set in a domestic violence shelter in Canada where a wealthy mother and daughter find themselves after the mother takes yet another beating from her husband. Immediately, the daughter takes refuge in a young woman and man, Kendra and Cal, who live there, and their fantasies of road trips spun in a broken down junker of a car in an open field. Their friendship, which seems more relief from boredom than true bonding at times, centers the film, and offers a running commentary on race, class, violence, injustice, and desperation.

The best parts of the film are extraordinary. Moments that would be graphic, loud, and filled with dramatic dialogue in most films of this ilk are silent, calm, and brilliantly understated. The visual disconnect of a rich, young, white girl with an SAT-worthy vocabulary and a prep school uniform wandering in the shelter’s dilapidated and barren surroundings provides a poignant challenge to the class-based stereotypes of domestic violence. The central characters’ awareness of their own small ironies and near obliviousness to their own horrors is very well done, both through decently written dialogue and some great acting, especially on the part of Jaren Brandt Bartlett and Eve Harlow (Cal and Kendra, respectively).

The worst parts are never truly horrific, just confusing, and a bit absurd. At times, the cinematography seems to jump styles from cinematic artistry to a plain, documentary-style harshness. This tendency doesn’t seem to have much of a point behind it—it's just there. While much of the film shows rather than tells the story of domestic violence and the complications of race and class, one scene delves into a rambling dialogue of after-school specialness that’s jarring to the senses. And finally, in what seems like a misguided and poorly composed attempt at a “feminist” ending, the film is ruined and many of the characteristics that made the first hour of the movie relatively engaging become completely inappropriate, stilted, and absurd.

I don’t think I’ve found a point yet to the film, or an overall recommendation, except perhaps this: if you watch the movie, cut it off after sixty or sixty-five minutes. You’ll have seen the best of it and can skip the worst. And if you get a chance, keep an eye out for Bartlett and Harlow. Those two would definitely be worth watching in a better vehicle than this one.

Written by: Melinda Barton, June 12th 2009

Dunya and Desie

admin — Thu, 28 May 2009 17:11:00 +0000

Directed by Dana Nachushtan

Lemming Film

Dunya and Desie is a 2006 Dutch film with English subtitles from director Dana Nachushtan. In the same vein as The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Dunya and Desie is the fun story of two best friends from opposite upbringings and how they find what they are looking for in life. The film begins with Dunya in the back seat of a car that is going through a carwash, while her friend Desie is in the front seat, making out with her driving instructor. Dunya then lists all of the things that are automatic in life: the weather, automatic pilot, automatic car washes, breathing, Desie's boyfriends, and the dumping of Desie's boyfriends. This is the perfect introduction to the two girls, as Desie’s world focuses around boys and her best friend Dunya, while Dunya’s life revolves around her parent’s expectations of her. Dunya being Danish Muslim, her parents expect her to adhere to family traditions, one of which includes an arranged marriage.

Desie is the complete aesthetic opposite of Dunya. Defined by her huge blonde perm and affinity for boys, she loves to have fun and is impossible not to like with her huge smile and wild antics. The film takes a turn when Desie gets pregnant unexpectedly, while Dunya’s parents are taking her to Morocco to meet her future husband. Desie, not knowing if she should terminate her pregnancy or not, travels to Morocco to see Dunya, and they embark on a journey to Casablanca in hopes of finding Desie’s father, who she hasn’t seen since she was young.

Dunya and Desie is a smart teen comedy. It's light-hearted and fun, but still opens a dialogue on larger issues like women's rights, cultural identity, and friendship. This film doesn’t throw any curve balls, but keeps to the heart of the story: the lives of two best friends. The characters are played well by the two actresses and never feel over-acted. The only complaint I have is with the subtitles. There were times when I didn’t feel that everything was being said in the subtitles that was being said on screen.

Written by: Chrissie Thornburg, May 28th 2009