FILM THREAT REVIEW: ZOMBEAVERS

2014 SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
85 minutes

*

Did you guys know that the word “beaver” doesn’t just refer to the forest animal? It can also be a euphemism for female genitalia! It’s true. And Jordan Rubin’s first feature film won’t let you forget it. If you love single entendres, boobs and gore and don’t consider characters or plot important, you are going to love “Zombeavers.”

Just to be clear, as a long-time fan of Troma movies and schlocky horror in general, I am the target audience for this movie. But it fails to live up to its premise, which could have been successfully executed one of two ways: Either the movie is fun because it’s completely earnest, or it works because it’s self-aware enough to be clever. “Zombeavers” is neither clever nor earnest. Rubin wears his influences on his sleeve (“Evil Dead,” “Critters,” “Sharknado”) but it seems like the only thing he took away from those movies were boobs and gore. Those are some of the ingredients that make it work. But he left out the cerebral baking powder. The humor is fratty and juvenile at best, and creepy uncle inappropriate at worst. The beaver jokes vacillate from lame to rapey. In light of recent events, it’s hard to find any humor in that.

But it’s not just the beaver/vagina jokes that fall flat. It’s nearly every joke, save one or two about beaver behavior that weren’t enough to save the movie. The best thing about “Zombeavers,” besides the title, is the hilariously grotesque beaver puppets and the practical effects carnage they inflict. But we spend too much time with the archetypical human characters. You don’t always have to relate to the characters in a horror movie, but they should be endearing in some way. Otherwise, it just feels like torture waiting for them to die.

I suppose the absolute perfection that is Joss Whedon’s “Cabin in the Woods” may have ruined all future cabin-set horror films. But “Zombeavers” didn’t stand a chance. Rubin seems to have assumed that his concept would float the movie so he slacked on the follow-through. He decided he could just fill in the blanks like some kind of b-movie Mad Libs. And you know what? There is a market for that paint-by-numbers crap too. But I expected more from a film festival selection.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: WILLOW CREEK

2014 SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
80 minutes

***

I have a huge amount of respect for Bobcat Goldthwait as a filmmaker. With films like “Sleeping Dogs Lie” and “World’s Greatest Dad,” he has always been able to find both the humor and horror in real life. That’s why I was slightly disappointed by his first attempt at making a true horror film. “Willow Creek” is basically “The Blair Sasquatch Project,” but unlike the film it borrows from liberally, the ending falls flat.

Putting a practical spin on the found footage genre, Goldthwait frames “Willow Creek” as a documentary shoot gone wrong. Jim (Bryce Johnson) is the instigator, fulfilling a childhood dream to one-up the famously blurry Patterson-Gimlin film with cold, hard photographic evidence of the existence of Sasquatch, aka Bigfoot. Though Jim calls himself a believer, he approaches the project with a sense of humor and whimsy, enjoying the many tourist traps of the town of Willow Creek with his patient but wholly incredulous girlfriend, Kelly (Alexie Gilmore).

The first half of the film is very nearly an actual documentary because the town and its inhabitants really exist. As far as any of these people know, Jim and Kelly are genuine. Hell, the town economy thrives on tourists enjoying the myriad Bigfoot themed businesses, murals and wood carved statues. Jim interviews believers and skeptics alike and eventually get directions to the exact Patterson-Gimlin film site from a full time Cryptozoologist.

As a sort of ironic foreshadowing, Jim and Kelly manage to piss off a couple of locals with their breezy attitude about the subject. The Bigfoot Jim seeks is the cuddly “Harry and the Hendersons” variety. The locals who believe see Sasquatch as wild, dangerous animals to be feared and respected along with the rest of the wilderness’ inhabitants. Smug city folk like Jim and Kelly are precisely the sort to become preparedness cautionary tales. But Johnson and Gilmore also make Jim and Kelly genuinely amusing and likeable people. You certainly don’t want anything bad to happen to them, even if they seem like they’re asking for it.

The horror kicks in, as it often does, when they encounter a menacing redneck, who warns them to turn back. They are disturbed but undeterred, defiantly finding a back way into the woods to follow the miles long, unmarked route to the film site. What follows is mostly auditory horror, which Goldthwait nails, interspersed with authentic relationship drama. There is a particularly long take (19 minutes) which covers both at once and miraculously manages to keep the tension alive the entire time. But Goldthwait inevitably must commit to the veracity of the monster and it is here that he fails. I don’t want to spoil the ending for you, but trust me when I say it doesn’t live up to the preceding film. It’s definitely worth watching and it’s impressive what Goldthwait and his two leads were able to accomplish with what couldn’t have been much more than a $100 budget and a weekend. But the ending is too abrupt and indecisive to make it a truly great film.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

AN AFTERNOON w/ LAURA DERN

2014 SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL EVENT!

On Saturday, May 17th, the Seattle International Film Festival awarded Laura Dern their Outstanding Achievement in Acting Award at the celebrated Egyptian Theatre. She appeared genuinely thrilled to accept what looked like a tentacle wrapped around a sparkly party hat from her old friend Eddie Vedder. Family in tow, Vedder delivered his lengthy, rambling introduction dressed as a dad at a PTA meeting. He mixed metaphors like a college party cocktail, comparing her career to a painter’s palette and to his own vocation. (“I’m in a band,” he helpfully exposited.) He described her performances as “classic albums” and attempted to highlight her dedication to the craft with an anecdote about how Dern became emancipated at age 12, not to separate from her revered parents, but so that she could work longer hours on “Ladies and Gentlemen… The Fabulous Stains.” (Dern later remarked that the 4 months she spent in Vancouver with the Sex Pistols turned her off drugs for life). “Laura Dern,” Vedder concluded. “She can play.”

And with that, the theatre darkened and we were treated to a lovingly curated highlight reel, beginning with a clip of Amy Jellicoe’s epic meltdown on HBO’s original series, “Enlightened.” This 10-minute scene was shot in one take and it perfectly illustrates Dern’s intensity and commitment to a character. “I will bury you, motherfucker!” she screamed after forcing an elevator door open with her bare hands. It was the ideal introduction to a retrospective of diverse characters ranging from rebellious youth to morally ambiguous women to self-righteous head-cases and a couple of mainstream roles in between.

Dern seemed somewhat unprepared for the reel, saying that she hadn’t revisited many of her characters in a long time. She remarked that her children, also present, were not yet allowed to see a large chunk of her body of work (possibly a response to the trauma of having “seen [her] father’s head roll down a staircase” in “The Exorcist” when she was a little girl). However she admitted that they were no strangers to their mother’s potty mouth. Regardless, neither they nor the Vedders would stay for the post-Q & A screening of the family unfriendly, “Wild at Heart.”

The Q & A moderator was Elvis Mitchell, host of NPR’s film personality interview show, “The Treatment.” Mitchell conducted the interview in his customary conversational manner. Dern was excited to share her stories and methods, and to discuss film in general. In addition to her parents, actors Diane Ladd and Bruce Dern, she named Lucille Ball as her hero (which makes perfect sense in light of her signature cry face). When she’s working, she isn’t concerned about her appearance because glamor is the enemy of authenticity. This approach to acting comes from her parents, who told her, “An actor’s job is to transform.”

She cited her children as her greatest source of inspiration, observing, “Just when you think you can guide someone, they end up guiding you… you have to let your kids define their own life experience.”

Of course, she is also highly influenced by the tremendous directing talent she’s worked with over the years, including Alexander Payne (“Citizen Ruth”) and the incomparable David Lynch (“Blue Velvet,” “Inland Empire”). Lynch looks for loyalties over performances, often conducting interviews in lieu of auditions. He insists that his actors be “perfectly authentic,” which is likely challenging considering his frequently fanciful narratives.

His most fanciful narrative to date was his most recent film, “Inland Empire.” Dern recalled his pitch to her: “You’re gonna star in my next movie… And there’s no script… And you’re gonna play all the characters in the movie.” (Incidentally, Dern does an excellent David Lynch impression.) Despite the lack of information about the story, Dern delivers a series of incredible performances that make enduring the intimidating running time (180 minutes) worth the effort.

Tired of dealing with studios, Lynch funded “Inland Empire” completely out of pocket. He had no trouble coming up with the production money, but was frustrated with the seemingly mandatory expense of film promotion. In protest, Lynch’s entire publicity campaign for the film was to sit on Hollywood Blvd with a cow on a leash and a sign that read, “Laura Dern for Best Actress.” Of course, people took videos of the stunt and it went viral, thus eliminating the need for traditional promotion.

Dern fits well into Lynch’s mode because she’s also an insatiable risk taker. “If other people say you shouldn’t do it,” she remarked, “I like to do it.”

After the Q & A, the die-hard audience members stuck around for a screening of David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart” (1990), starring Dern, Nicholas Cage, Diane Ladd and a delightful assortment of Lynch regulars. This warped take on “The Wizard of Oz” is a highly quotable love story set in the darkest time line. It’s also meant for the big screen, allowing the viscera to pop and Lynch’s meticulous sound editing to envelop you. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: NIGHT MOVES

2014 SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
113 minutes

*****

A truly great director is capable of putting their signature stamp on films that tackle a wide variety of subjects. By that measure, Kelly Reichardt (Wendy & Lucy,” “Meek’s Cutoff,” “Old Joy”) belongs alongside such auteurs as Werner Herzog, Spike Jonze, Richard Linklater and Joe Swanberg with her captivating minimalist dramas. Her latest, “Night Moves,” is among her best. It tells a tale of crime and punishment for 3 Oregon-based eco-terrorists, played with comparable intensity by Peter Sarsgaard, Dakota Fanning and Jesse Eisenberg. We are given very little back story regarding who these people are and what brought them together, but Reichardt trusts both her actors and her audience to fill in the blanks through sparse, loaded dialog and long, silent close-ups. It’s not just smart filmmaking; it’s visual poetry.

Eisenberg has already received many accolades for his brooding characters. But his portrayal of Josh, the quiet, morally-assured environmental radical, makes “The Social Network” look like community theatre. You can see his wheels turning with every, barely modified facial expression. You’re not exactly on his side, but you can’t take your eyes off of him (and neither can the camera).

Dena (Dakota Fanning) is a young idealist rebelling against her yuppie upbringing. She’s smart and quick with a retort for everyone who doubts her capabilities. Dena and Josh meet up with Harmon (Peter Sarsgaard) at his forest dwelling to carry out their mission. Harmon is an ex-Marine who questions everything but his own ideology. He’s barely joking when he tells them, “Don’t trust the raccoons.” With their individual skill-sets, the trio forms an Environmental A-Team. They carry out each detail of their plan with extreme caution, knowing they only have one shot. We don’t necessarily want them to succeed, but we care about what happens to them. We share their anxiety.

The first half of the film is about pulling off the mission but part 2 is no less harrowing. When the deed is done, there is no relief or sense of accomplishment. Their reservations simply shift. It’s important to note that “Night Moves” is not a political film. Characters make passing remarks that resemble a political debate, but for the most part, Reichardt doesn’t take sides. Instead, she presents a character study in what happens when people have their dearly held convictions blown wide open because they failed to see the big picture or consider other perspectives. They start to question their own beliefs and their trust in each other. It’s a white-knuckled slow ride through mental unraveling and an absolute must-see film.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: ANOTHER

2014 SEATTLE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
80 minutes

1/2 star

Thank god for official film synopses, otherwise I would have had no idea what writer/director Jason Bognacki was going for with his debut feature, “Another.” It’s described as a “phantasmagoric chiller” influenced by “Italian Giallo and Hammer horror.” And here I thought it was just some mom’s basement-dwelling misogynist’s way to get a pretty girl to show her boobs on film for free or cheap. (I sincerely hope Bognacki paid his actors because if there was any money in this film, it certainly didn’t show up on screen.) The film’s shortcomings begin as laughably entertaining, but degrade into maddeningly amateurish editing, paradoxical dialog and the most robotic performance from a lead actress (Paulie Rojas) this side of a porno.

The film opens on a Druidic ceremony involving a baby and then smash cuts to a birthday cake 18 years later baring the name Jordyn (with a Y!). Jordyn’s aunt Ruth delivers an ominous speech in honor of the birthday girl, reminding her niece, whom she raised, that her real mother died on HER 18th birthday. This is apparently something that Ruth reminds Jordyn of “every year.” While Jordyn, her roommate and her 38-year-old boyfriend enjoy their cake, Ruth’s little birthday tribute gets more and more creepy until she ultimately grabs the cake knife and plunges it into her stomach. Aunt Ruth sure is a drag at birthday parties.

But don’t worry, folks. Ruth is OK. That means Jordyn can still go to her night shift at the Pharmacy that starts after dark and ends when the place closes sometime before dawn. The plot points in this movie are positively maddening. Jordyn JUST turned 18 but she already has a full-time job and an apartment? It’s just Jordyn and old Janitor Joe at the pharmacy until a horrifyingly unhygienic lady in a hooded cloak comes in to cackle ominously and scratch Jordyn’s wrist with one of her filthy claws. Jordyn thinks this is a pretty weird encounter, but decides not to worry about it. She remains unconcerned even after she wakes up in a porn dungeon with the vague recollection of being raped and then finds Joe’s coveralls on the bed, revealing the culprit. She doesn’t seem too mad at him about it, and even shows great concern for him when she later discovers his mauled body at work. I find myself wondering what their budget was for stunt crows. But they must have saved some dough by not buying Jordyn any pants.

Bognacki desperately wants to be Dario Argento, but he is, at best, a poor man’s Rob Zombie (and by “poor man” I mean penniless vagrant). There are many quick cuts to black and white TVs with bad reception and Victrola music. There is a faux-retro vibe to the set design. The gratuitous use of slow motion (a transparent attempt to look “artsy”) grows tiresome.

Occasionally, there are some (certainly inadvertent) moments of levity from the performances and effects that are straight out of iMovie. But mostly, it is just so, so painful to watch. The dialog is the biggest source of laughs, but only because it usually doesn’t make any sense. Some sample lines:

“She will know things about you that YOU don’t even know.”

“My mother is dead, Ruth! I have the obituary!”

“You’re not my real mother.” “Now that’s no way to talk to your real mother.”

And my personal favorite: “Give yourself to yourself.”

As if all that weren’t bad enough, the film is rife with misogyny. Bognacki basically accuses women of being obsessed with “beauty and power” as if being young and beautiful is the only way that a woman CAN be powerful. I know he’s met women because he has them in his movie, but given the way he writes for them, it doesn’t seem like he’s ever had an actual conversation with one.

If you told me that “Another” was made as a film school final that received a C+, I would only be surprised that the teacher was such a lenient grader. It boggles my mind that “Another” made it into a film festival. I know SIFF has more films than any other festival in the world, but I have a hard time believing there wasn’t something better that could have filled their slot.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: PALO ALTO

2014
Rated R
98 minutes

**

Gia Coppola’s directorial debut, “Palo Alto,” goes where many films have gone before, depicting the dark side of affluent suburban teenagers. It comes off as a mashup of Coppola’s very evident influences, including Harmony Korine, Gus Van Sant and, of course, Auntie Sofia. Coppola is studied but has yet to find her own voice. Perhaps “Palo Alto” is an accurate depiction of modern youth, but it lacks the focus of its predecessors, making it not much more than a painful viewing experience.

I daresay the source material, Producer James Franco’s book of short stories, doesn’t do much to set itself apart either. His characters aren’t quite Bret Eason Ellis-level depraved, but they do have a tendency toward making poor decisions. Shy skate punk Teddy (Jack Kilmer) pals around with ticking time bomb Fred (Nat Wolff), partying with both hands and joy-riding afterward. Teddy’s crush, April, (Emma Roberts) wants to be a “good girl”, but she too lets off steam at these orgies of decadence. She also yearns to make a connection with someone – not easy considering they can hardly form coherent sentences. April is the smartest among them and even she is relatively inarticulate (“It’s whatever!”). They are the polar opposites of the “Dawson’s Creek” kids.

The narrative suggests that it’s not entirely their fault. Half the time, the pressure to misbehave comes from people who have aged well outside their peer group. What these kids have in common is what Sailor Ripley would call a lack of parental guidance. Teddy and April’s mothers are loving, but too busy to notice the warning signs. Rapist-in-training Fred’s dad is quite possibly a sexual predator himself. No wonder Fred equates sex with control.

It’s not that these kids aren’t ready for sex. But there’s a huge difference between teenage fornication and adult relations. April learns that the hard way (no pun intended) from Coach Franco Inappropes, who takes the “hitting on the babysitter” trope to a whole new level of ick. A peripheral character, Emily, also occupies a world of sexual confusion, exploring her curiosity with all the wrong people. Both girls are good examples of why the age of consent exists.

Emma Roberts’ performance is a highlight, as she breaks from her usual worldly and jaded roles to portray a very convincing insecure teenager. She’s so credible that her scenes with Franco’s manipulative pedophile soccer coach are truly upsetting, despite her actual age. But the pervert vérité also works against the film because it makes the whole viewing experience very unpleasant. I don’t necessarily need to feel comfortable to enjoy a film. I can’t remember when I’ve been more ill at-ease than during “Under the Skin”. But that movie worked for me because it expressed the familiar themes from a wholly unique (and fantastical) perspective. When “Palo Alto” ended, I was so relieved that I didn’t have to be watching it anymore.

The film is competently crafted, but it has a distinct first-film greenness. Cinematographer, Autumn Durald, recalls the beautiful, dream-like essence of Sofia Coppola’s “The Virgin Suicides” almost to the point of plagiarism. Many of her symbolistic shots are too on the nose, including close-ups of childish décor during a sexual encounter and another goddamned hand-out-the-car-window shot. Both Coppola and Durand show a lot of promise and it’s probably worth seeking out future endeavors. But you’d be forgiven for skipping this one.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

 

2014 SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL WRAP-UP

The 57th annual San Francisco International Film Festival wrapped up on May 8th with Chris Messina’s critically touted, “Alex of Venice.” This year’s fest program was seemingly rock solid (or else I’m getting better at picking movies). Almost everything I saw fell somewhere between great and fantastic, with only a couple of duds in the mix. So let’s get the bad out of the way first:

UGH:

“Ping Pong Summer” – I see what they tried to do there. People of a certain age (myself included) possess a degree of forgiving nostalgia over the beating the bully/overcoming impossible odds films of the nineteen hundred and eighties. I can’t say if “Better off Dead” and “Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo” are truly good films or if they’re just a comforting snapshot of my childhood. But to capture that vibe in a new film, you’re going to have to do a little better than “Ping Pong Summer.” It’s “Better off Dead” with a splash of “Vacation” thrown in. But it tries too hard and flounders too much.

“Standing Aside, Watching” – This painful film was billed as a western-style revenge picture. But it felt a lot more like a series of scenes competing for bleakness. If it’s meant to depict female empowerment, it has a funny way of showing it. Women get the short end of the stick (usually in the form of an unwanted penis) over and over again in this small, impoverished Greek town. The protagonist is kind of abusive herself, but that still doesn’t warrant the treatment she receives from the resident psycho misogynist. The title refers to the general attitude of the townspeople, who just “stand aside, watching” while bad things happen. They say this line over and over and over again, just in case you couldn’t glean the theme from context. 89 minutes that felt like an eternity.

EH:

“Palo Alto” – Like “Kids” and “Spring Breakers” before it, “Palo Alto” confirms parents’ worst fears about what their suburban teenagers are up to when they’re away from the watchful eyes of adults. They’re binge drinking, driving under the influence, screwing like rabbits and generally giving in to every awful whim that crosses their undeveloped brains. It doesn’t help that the adults who do pay attention to them only do so in order to take advantage of them. Perhaps it is an accurate depiction of modern youth, but it lacks the poetry and style of “Spring Breakers,” leaving only the doom and gloom. I didn’t have any fun at all watching this movie.

“Soul Food Stories” – There’s nothing particularly bad about this glimpse into life in a small, Bulgarian town ruled by “tradition” (a euphemism for female oppression). It’s a good way to experience a place that I would never want to visit. But it’s hard not to get upset watching men stand around discussing a woman’s place and the reasons why they can’t be involved in decisions. The men think they are being open-minded because they can come together from different religious backgrounds and have a civil discussion over drinks. But they all seem to agree that women aren’t good for anything other than cooking and taking care of the house. No wonder all the young people move away at their first opportunity.

“Last Weekend” – Patricia Clarkson is the shining jewel in this otherwise mediocre film about the end of an era for one affluent family at their Lake Tahoe palatial estate. Mostly depicting spoiled young people fretting about their “problems” (like how mom might be selling ONE of their childhood vacation homes – who will get her basket collection?!) reads like an Oscar Wilde play minus the jokes. Only Clarkson delivers a nuanced performance, bringing some universal maternal angst into the otherwise bland story. Gifted character actor, Fran Kranz is utterly squandered in a completely dispensable role.

OOOOH:

“Art & Craft” – An absolutely riveting character study of a lonely, mentally unbalanced man named Mark Landis, who has found purpose in forging famous paintings and donating them to museums around the country. Landis accidentally creates a nemesis in Matthew Leininger, a registrar who, after interacting with him for mere minutes, becomes preoccupied with exposing the man for a fraud, despite the lack of illegality in his “binge philanthropy”. The story gives both men ample screen time, turning this ripped-from-the-headlines tale into a study of the madness of loneliness from two sides of the same coin.

“Boyhood” – If you spend 12 years making a film, I imagine it’s emotionally taxing to edit. The excessive running time is one of the only missteps in Richard Linklater’s opus, which follows a boy and his family (using the same actors throughout) from age 6 to 18. Though the boy (Ellar Coltrane) is the main character, the film also spends plenty of time with his older sister and divorced parents (in career-defining performances by Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke). It is such a unique endeavor that the more scripted/cinematic scenes weigh down what is otherwise a very poignant and naturalistic portrait of family dynamics.

“Club Sandwich” – A coming-of-age film that accurately captures the awkward, mortifying messiness of teenage sexual exploration as well as the internal struggle that even the coolest mom experiences when she starts to feel her baby pull away.

“Obvious Child” – Jenny Slate displays a variety of performance skills in her lead debut. Best known for her scene-stealing guest spots on shows like “Parks and Rec”, “Bob’s Burgers” and “Hello Ladies” to name a few, she gets a chance to deliver her signature confessional comedy in the role of a struggling stand-up comedian who falls apart after being dumped. She almost sabotages a budding romance with an uber-nice guy after an evening’s indiscretion. Ably backed by Gaby Hoffman, writer/director Gillian Robespierre injects life into the lady-in-arrested-development trope and offers a rare depiction of a healthy, supportive female friendship.

“The Trip to Italy” – Featuring a self-aware conversation about the disappointment of sequels, Michael Winterbottom’s follow-up to “The Trip” (2010) defies conventional wisdom, giving audiences a worthy predecessor. Though it’s more of the same (Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon playing satirical versions of themselves as they attempt to outperform each other during a culinary odyssey), it’s a delicious dish that I’d happily consume again and again. This time, Brydon gets to showcase the pathos and Coogan provides glimpses of self-awareness through peppering hair and a sagging middle. It’s still up in the air whose Michael Caine impression dominates.

“South is Nothing” – You may never be in the mood to experience the emotional destruction that this film delivers. But if you’re already feeling gloomy, you might as well watch this Italian tragedy about a lonely teenage girl who yearns to learn the truth about her brothers’ disappearance. Lead actress, Miriam Karlvist, devastates with her robust performance.

Most of these films already have distribution deals, so look for them in your neck of the woods in the coming months. See you next year, San Fran!

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: SOUTH IS NOTHING

2014 SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
86 minutes

****

Italian director Fabio Mollo also co-wrote the compelling script for his debut feature, “South is Nothing,” a film that serves as a series of swift, emotional gut punches. The story follows 17-year-old Grazia (Miriam Karlkvist) and her single father, Christiano (Vinicio Marchioni) as they deal (and don’t deal) with the death of brother/son Pietro. Karlvist, bearing the brunt of the screen time, deftly wields the emotional weight of the linguistically sparse script. We don’t always know what’s going through her head, but we don’t need specifics to feel her grief and frustration with her father’s refusal to connect or confess.

Christiano lives in a tenuous limbo, having done something to piss off the local mafia-controlled fish trade in their small Italian seaside town. Someone wants him both out of business and out of town. He is just coming to terms with the fact that he will be unable to keep the shop in the family, but he fails to take into account the notion that Grazia might not want that life anyway. He uses Grazia’s final exams as a stalling tactic, claiming he can’t do anything until she finishes school. But Grazia might never finish because her head and heart are not in it.

Grazia has been slowly going mad for five years, living in the dark about her brother’s absence. She knows nothing beyond the fact that he is recently deceased. Christiano and her grandmother know the truth about what happened, but refuse to discuss it. It doesn’t help Grazia’s emotional state that her grandmother claims to see and speak with Pietro’s ghost on a regular basis. Grazia eventually convinces herself that he’s still alive and begins to chase his apparition all over town. Without a thread of sanity among them, the occasional suggestion of paranormal activity also keeps the audience on the fence about the truth of the matter.

But this isn’t a film about truth. It’s about raw, unbridled emotion. Christiano is an utter mess – so blinded by grief and his own problems, that he doesn’t see his daughter becoming an adult who will soon be making her own life decisions. Without any parental guidance, Grazia mostly spends her days alone, laying in Pietro’s boat and trying to connect with him in any way she can.

No friends to speak of, Grazia is teased at school for her butch appearance and anti-social behavior. She is quiet and solitary, her drinking and smoking tendencies more closely resembling adult coping strategy (particularly her father’s) than teenage rebellion. But she still contends with the irrational mood swings that come with being 17. Eventually, she strikes up a volatile friendship with Carmelo, the son of a traveling carnival vendor. Carmelo, gives her a hard time at first, but it’s likely due to the connection issues that arise from a nomadic lifestyle.

Those who desire resolution should steer clear of “South is Nothing.” It’s driven by pathos rather than plot. Every human interaction in this film is a struggle. But if you’re in the market for visual poetry (thanks to cinematographer, Debora Vrizzi) and a powerhouse performance by Karlvist, you’ll be a satisfied customer.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

FILM THREAT REVIEW: CLUB SANDWICH

2014 SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL SELECTION!
Unrated
79 minutes

****

In “Club Sandwich,” 15-year-old Hector (Lucio Gimenez Cacho) and his young, hip, single mother, Paloma (Maria Renee Prudencio), seem perfectly content spending their off-season resort vacation lounging around the deserted pool and playing card games in their hotel room. But Hector’s emerging sexuality is the elephant in the room that only becomes more apparent once a girl his own age shows up. Third-time writer/director Fernando Eimbcke takes the fleeting adolescent vacation romance a step further by showing how coming-of-age can affect the parents who are powerless to stop it.

Eimbcke’s script has very little dialog, but every beautifully sparse scene speaks volumes about its characters. We understand everything we need to know about Hector and Paloma’s situation in the film’s first few minutes without a hint of exposition. Paloma has clearly been raising Hector on her own for, if not his whole life, a very long time. They are financially strapped which is why they find themselves at a nearly deserted resort during the off-season. They spend a lot of time alone together. So much so that Hector makes up excuses for returning to the room without her so that he can become better acquainted with his hand. It’s not clear how long Hector has been coming into his own (sorry), but his emerging manhood catches Paloma off guard. She squeals with a mixture of fascination and horror when she notices a tiny patch of fur forming above his upper lip and begs him not to shave it, lest it grow in thicker.

The rift in their relationship widens when Hector meets Jazmin (Danae Reynaud Romero), a girl who boasts that very specific brand of awkward assertiveness that comes from being a smart only child with very old parents. She invites him back to her room under the pretense that the sunscreen she has applied to his body needs to “soak in.” She tells him they are sitting on the very bed in which she was conceived while her nurse-like stepmother flits around behind them, tending to her elderly, possibly ailing father. Her seduction technique is unusual, but effective on a boy who recognizes a rare (if not inaugural) opportunity for physicality. It’s not love. It’s a practical arrangement of two sexually inexperienced adolescents who just want to check a couple of things off their to-do list.

Regardless, it takes a couple of false starts before they seal the deal. Meanwhile, Paloma gets wise to the true nature of their interactions and panics, waffling between attempts to facilitate their union and prevent it. She wants Hector to be happy, but she is unable to suppress the fact that she’s not ready to let go of her little boy. You can see the wheels turning in her head, fast-forwarding through the rest of his childhood to the part where he leaves her for good. This isn’t a tale of “parents just don’t understand” so much as “parents understand all too well.” It’s refreshing to see the theme explored from both sides and with such subtle veracity.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).

AN EVENING WITH RICHARD LINKLATER/BOYHOOD

2014 SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL EVENT!

On Friday, May 2nd, the 57th Annual San Francisco International Film Festival presented director Richard Linklater with their Founding Director’s Award. The San Francisco Film Society decided to make a night of it, with “An Evening with Richard Linklater” at the Castro Theatre. The packed-to-the-gills event sandwiched a screening of his latest film, “Boyhood,” between two Q & A sessions. Longtime friend and colleague, Parker Posey, moderated the first segment with a casual familiarity. Posey was among many actors to hit it big after appearing in Linklater’s second film, “Dazed and Confused,” including Matthew “Don’t Call Him Matt” McConaughey, Ben Affleck and Renée Zellweger. The cult classic, released 27 years ago (holy crap), also helped to kick start Linklater’s fertile career.

Posey and Linklater reminisced their way through his catalog, spending ample time with “Dazed and Confused.” Linklater revealed that the iconic music for the film came before the story. When he finally got around to casting, he made mix tapes (that’s cassette tapes, kids) for all of his actors to get them in the correct headspace. His auditions included a brief interview about their high school experience, wherein he promptly dismissed anyone who claimed to have had a good time.

He also admitted that the beloved “Before” films, starring Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, were never meant to be a trilogy. But he found himself revisiting those characters and every 5 or 6 years wondered, “What they were up to?” Those ruminations would turn into a script. Fortunately, Hawke and Delpy were always game to reprise those roles as well. He’s not sure there’s much left to tell of their story, however as “meeting briefly becomes less and less age appropriate.”

In her introduction, Posey called Linklater “a voice of my generation,” but with his diverse body of work, that title seems too limiting. In addition to writing about youth culture, he’s also made films about bank robbers, music teachers, the fast food industry, a man driven to murder and Orson Welles. Linklater seems game for just about anything, so long as there’s a good story in it. As he put it, he’s, “Always channeling things through the filter of cinema.”

Despite his prolificacy, Linklater confessed to frequently spending years with an idea before bringing it to fruition, so that he could be sure to get it right. “Waking Life” came from a real dream he had, but he didn’t make the film for another 20 years. He wasn’t even sure that the idea was filmable until some of his friends began experimenting with Rotoscope technology. It was then that he finally understood how to make it work.

The way he tells it, he’s “had two good cinematic thoughts all these years”. One was his first film, “Slacker,” which told a complete story by following one character to the next. The Austin, TX native culled the story from real people who populated his neighborhood in the 1980s. “Slacker” was the film that launched his career and it is also heralded as one of the great pioneer independent films.

His other “good cinematic thought” was to tell a story by following one actor through his formative years in order to create an honest and illuminative narrative about childhood. This film became “Boyhood,” a bold experiment in filmmaking that could have easily fallen apart at any point during the 12 years he spent on it. He didn’t just follow the lead actor, Ellar Coltrane. He also employed Patricia Arquette, Ethan Hawke and his own daughter, Lorelei Linklater, to play the family. Year after year, the actors agreed to come back and shoot for one week, until he had a complete story. The end result is astounding.

Though “Boyhood” is a tad on the long side, I have to forgive Linklater because I imagine that putting that much of your life into a film would make it very difficult to cut. The running time is a minor criticism, as is the imprecision of the title. Coltrane’s Mason is our guide, but everyone in the family grows and changes in profound ways throughout the story. This is some of the best work that Arquette and Hawke have ever done. Every beat of their performances feels authentic and personal. Linklater also struck gold with Coltrane and his daughter, who remained natural (and reliable) throughout. The film also serves as a sort of time capsule, since the “period” scenes were actually shot in the eras in which they take place. Technology, fashion, pop culture and politics evolve organically. Arquette’s mother character, the children’s primary caregiver does the best she can to provide for her children, getting a psychology degree and attempting to find them a reliable father figure. Her faulty spouse selection causes much of the drama over the years, but she eventually finds the confidence to raise them on her own. Hawke plays the absentee dad who ultimately comes around to fatherhood, trading in his muscle car for a mini van and attempting to incorporate his original children into his second-chance domesticity with another woman.

There aren’t many films out there than can satisfy everyone, but surely “Boyhood” comes close. If you are a human being who grew up in America, some part of the film will resonate with you. If nothing else, the scale of the experiment is a sight to behold. “Boyhood” will certainly remain a highlight in Linklater’s career, even if he continues to make films for another 27 years.

Originally published on FilmThreat.com (now defunct).