Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.
Here's more SXSW coverage, this time from the perspective of Austin immigrant Palpatine, who I haven't heard from for a while. Nice to get this batch of stuff from him, and let me get out of way so you can get right to it:
Palpatine here:
One of the hallmarks of any good festival is sleep deprivation, and judging by my current physical and mental state the opening weekend of SXSW has been a doozie. In three days I've already seen a handful of good or great films, and the screenings have been so wonderful I doubt I'll be able to go back to a normal multiplex for at least a month.
Cat's Meow - D. Peter Bogdanovich
This one was first on my list, and it was the first thing I saw. If anyone is do for a come back right now, it's Peter Bogdonavich. How the director of The Last Picture Show and Paper Moon ended up working on nonsense like To Sir With Love 2 is beyond me. He's clearly had a hard time getting financing for any projects and this, his first feature in 8 years, is exactly what he needed to get his head above water again. A small, entertaining, inexpensive film that should recoup its budget and its director's reputation.
From the opening on, it's clearly Bogdanovich at work. There's the usual pre-occupations with classic Hollywood cinema, the evocative period songs, and just the overall look and feel of things. If you haven't heard by now, the story is based on an incident rumored to have happened at a party on-board William Randolph Hearst's yacht in the 20's. It's a story that made the original draft of Hermann J. Mankiewicz's script to Citizen Kane, and has been a Hollywood legend for years. Despite this, no factual investigation has ever been conducted, and noone really knows exactly what happened. Bogdanovich and writer Steven Peros attempt to approximate the events, piecing together rumors and ancdeotes to craft a narrative that may not be true, but is entertaining and seems well in keeping with the mythic images of the persons involved.
And make no mistake, these characters are mythic. Bogdanovich used that word himself in the Q&A afterwards. There's simply no other way to describe men & women like William Randolph Hearst, Charlie Chaplin, Marion Davies, Luella Parsons... these are people important not only to the history of cinema, but to the history of America, and Cat's Meow attempts more than ever to dig into whatever dark secrets they may have held. Bogdanovich asked us to keep spoilers to a minimum when describing the movie to friends, and with good reason. So a nice, user friendly, plot setup/summary would go something like this.
The year is 1924: Hearst's production company is still getting off the ground, trying to break into Hollywood as a legitimate studio. His primary product has been historical epics which served vehicles as vehicles for his mistress Marion Davies. Meanwhile, producer Thomas Ince seems to be on his way out of power, and when the newspaper tycoon organizes a birthday party for Ince aboard his private yacht, he sees it as an ample opportunity to make a last grasp at success. Meanwhile, Charlie Chaplin has just halted production on the Gold Rush (for reasons that are clearly outlined), and the papers are buzzing with rumors about him and Marion. Hearst, a jealous, somewhat fragile old man, has heard all of this and wants to use the party as a way to smoke out the truth.
The casting in this film is ludicrous, but strangely inspired. Kirsten Dunst (as Marion Davies) is a dead ringer for a silent film star. She was only 19 when they shot this, and the work she does physically for the role is tremendous and subtle. Yet, for much of the first half, I never believed she was Marion. Her voice and presence on the screen seemed a bit too modern, and I felt completely closed off from her character. Maybe it's just that she didn't match my personal conception of who Marion Davies was, or maybe it's that next to all the other spot-on confident performers Dunst stands out more than she would in another cast, but I didn't see her having a clear picture of what she was playing. As things wore on though, I got used to her; she carries some of the best on-screen moments, and her chemistry with Eddie Izzard is really quite wonderful.
Speaking of Eddie Izzard: wow. His performance here is the exact opposite of Dunsts'; he looks NOTHING like Charlie Chaplin, but his performance is so strong, so intelligently constructed, that you believe he IS Chaplin, or at least who the movie wants to Chaplin to be. There's no mugging of the camera here, no "cute" moment when he gets soot on his face and comes off looking like the little tramp, he simply walks into a room and everyone, including the audience says: "There's Charlie." His Chaplin is a likeable rogue, head-over-heels for Marion, and yet full aware of his reputation as a dangerous playboy. He's fed up with the lifestyle and people of Hollywood, and scorns Hearst and his megalomania, but can't stop himself from wanting to have a little fun. There are flashes of the charm that made the star a legend; he has a quiet, dry sense of humor, almost as if he's constantly making jokes at the expense of the rest of the room, but none of them ever notice. There's a little physical bit at a party scene involving him, Marion, and a hat that is so spot on perfect it makes you wish Izzard would have more ample opportunity to sink into the role.
Who else? Cary Elwes as Thomas Ince. Damn! Wesley: Is that really you? Overweight, philandering, desperate... this is the best role he's had in a while. Edward Hermann is great as Hearst, portraying a simple paradox that comes off quite powerful: At one moment he is the single most powerful and weakest man in the world. There's a hilarious bit early in the film, involving marksmanship, that has fun with how eccentric we all imagine Hearst would be. Joanna Lumley as Elinor Glyn: (the only brit in the movie who gets to play one) nice, solid work. Jennifer Tilly is so good as Luella Parsons it changed my conception of her as an actress. She and Bogdanovich are doing a smart thing here: everyone on the boat thinks "Lolly" is dumb, annoying, and absurd (and she certainly comes off that way) but there are little signs... a glint in the eye, and aside in the dialogue that goes unnoticed, which reveal that she's one of the most dangerous people present. It all piles up until a scene of triumph at the end which may be one of Tilly most defining moments as a performer.
The Cat's Meow is funny, well acted, intelligent, and better directed than a movie this cheap deserves to be. And yet (and we're moving into spoiler territory now, so those of you who want to see it STOP NOW), the big inevitable yet so common in criticism, there's something about it that doesn't sit well with me. It was churning in my stomach as the credits rolled, and has been stewing around in there ever since.
This movie wants to critique Hollywood. It wants to point a finger at the amoral lifestyles of the rich and famous. It wants to punish them for subscribing to their own mythology, and living a life of pointless debauchery. But this is Peter Bogdanovich here people... the man who has written countless books on classic cinema, who can't go five minutes in public without mentioning Orson Welles or John Ford... he's a spectator here. He can't help but be fascinated, and neither can we. The best and most enjoyable scenes work because it's fun for us, as an audience, to spend time in a room with Charlie Chaplin and Marion Davies. Because we want to know if Hearst was really that crazy. This curiosity renders the tragedy of the affairs impotent. It reduces a murder into a party story, to be whispered and laughed about over cocktails.
A man died, people! This should be more important than whether or not Charlie and Marion will run off together, and judging by the way Bogdanovich positions things in the end, it clearly isn't. Other than an extremely potent image involving Hearst dousing blood from the body with one of Chaplin's love notes (that's one hell of a shot, Peter: congrats.), there is no sense of tragedy, no sense of sadness, no sense of real guilt among any of the characters. Am I being overly righteous? Perhaps. Am I being overly critical? Perhaps. You could say it's a way of reflecting the ambivalence of the men involved, a critique... valid. And I think that Bogdanovich wants it to be that... I think the movie wants to be that... but the characters over power the events. You can't have your cake and eat it too, folks... I guess Hearst wins again, in the end.
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Mai's America - Documentary. d. Marlo Poras
I want to attempt a shift in tone here. In the spirit of AICN, I will be delving into film advocacy rather than criticism. I love this film. It engaged me no more than normal while I watched it, but it has grown so powerful in my memory in the days after I've seen it, that I can't help but gush. I love what it represents: a small, personal work by a first time director. A woman who saw there was a story to tell, grabbed a camera, and almost completely on her own just went out and did it.
And what a story it is.
Mai is North Vietnamese. Unapologetically so. She feels pride that her father and her people beat off the Americans in the 70's. But there is an attraction to the mass marketed American MTV culture that she can't resist. A college degree from America would bring money and prestige to her family. She applies with an exchange program. She ends up with a redneck family in small-town Mississippi. That's it. Those are the sparks, the matches, which light the flame that is this movie. You can see the train coming, but you can't get out of the way.
You are not going to learn about Vietnam by watching this. You're going to learn about America. Not in the stereotypical, simple way you might think... there's no overt racism here. In fact, the self-proclaimed rednecks in Mai's area do everything they can to try to seem open and accepting of her. But there's a gap. They know it, and despite all her efforts to try to fit in, she knows it. These people do not have the cultural context to understand Mai, Mai does not have the cultural context to understand them, and unfortunately she doesn't have the context to process what she sees in terms of her vision of America as a whole.
She goes to school. She learns about the Vietnam war, the American side of the story. She hears for the first time about the protests, the disillusion. She is given guidance by her history teacher and tries to make friends with two popular girls whose dreams of life are "To be a movie star and to not be poor." Who ask her questions like: "What Continent do you live on?" "Asia? Where's that?"
She struggles at her host home with family members who are poor, lazy, and depressed. Who, while being outwardly courteous, never do much more than ignore her. She talks to the camera, and to a fortune teller about their pills, their messes, and their TV watching.
She forms a bond with a transvestite. A man who appreciates her, and helps her explore the underside of whatever counter-culture exists in her area. Who tells her they are both outsiders.
She meets South Vietnamese for the first time. Two kids raised in America. She learns about the KKK, and the pre-war Vietnamese culture that the immigrants have maintained in pockets in America...
And folks... that is only the beginning:
Mai does get out of Mississippi. She goes to Tulane, she goes to Detroit. And each step she takes further into America is a blow to her psyche, her self-confidence, her perceptions. She becomes trapped in the struggle that millions of others are in here. She becomes an American: fighting to earn money to go to school, trying to stay afloat while still believing whole-heartedly that there is more opportunity here than anywhere else. "It's harder in Vietnam, it's so poor," one of her friends says, "You're wrong," responds Mai, "It's harder here. But I can't go back."
This is culture, this is myth, this is personal disintegration of tragic proportions, amplified by the presence that is Mai herself. She is the singular star and focus of love in this movie. Intelligent, outspoken, articulate, and miraculously self aware, Mai never stops processing. Never stops evaluating what's going on around her. Never stops trying to make connections with people. She is kind, open hearted, wise, and beautiful. It seemed almost as if everyone at the screening fell in love with her, myself included. And unfortunately, she never stops punishing herself, and the troubles never stop coming.
I wanted to stop this movie. To freeze time and jump into the celluloid. To grab her by the hand and pull her out of the screen. "There's more Mai. More to America. Things you haven't seen. Good people with a love and understanding of other cultures. People who will help you. Who will accept you. Who will love you." Director Marlo Poras wanted to stop it too.. at one point she asked Mai to come live with her, but true to form, she refused. She must do as her parents instructed. She expounds on camera about not being good enough, smart enough, to make it. About not working hard enough, about dishonoring her family. Mai, you are good enough. And if Mai's America makes enough money to bring you back here, as Ms. Poras hopes to do, then everyone who saw this film will welcome you and wish you well.
This is Palp signing out. Reviews of CQ, Y Tu Mama Tambien, ZigZag, and Master of the Game still to come.
P.S. According to Ms. Poras, Mai is back in Hanoi and doing well. She teaches English, makes 300 dollars a month, and has a boyfriend. Sometimes, eventually, good things do happen to good people.
Cool. More Palpy goodness to come in the days ahead. I'll be waiting.
"Moriarty" out.
