Hey folks, Harry here and it seems ol Lucian is a neverending energizer bunny... Though his forgetting of his TWO FAMILY HOUSE tickets... will inevitably come back to haunt him.. the movie is fantastic. But he saw 5 other films this day, so he can't spank the brow too much... Here's his latest wonderful report...
Living a block from the festival venues has advantages and disadvantages. It means during those rare breaks of over an hour one can pop home and feel a bit more like a human being. Combined with being overtired though it can lead to dumb errors like leaving the apartment without your tickets. Long story short, I missed Two Family House today but did manage to return home for a much needed nap. So five films and a short today, here are notes on them all.
The Luzhin Defence is a pretty decent film. Adapted from a book by Navakhov and directed by Marleenb Gorris is stars John Turturro as an eccentric chess master whose obsession with the game has left him unable to develop the social and coping skills needed to become an adult. As he prepares for a world championship he falls in love with a young socialite (Emily Watson) who tries to help him cope with the dangerous affects of his all-consuming love of chess.
Though not really a chess movie the film does capture the maddening constancy of living ones life trying to anticipate and plan for thousands of possibilities while all the while being unable to master the simple skills of life. We really do see a glimpse of the mind of a master, in part due to some strong direction by Gorris. Lavish sets and costumes combine to make a visually superb period piece and the backstory of Luhzin's childhood and development is well integrated into the narrative. The tale is bittersweet and compelling but really doesn't break any ground. It was a nice movie for 9:30 in the morning and would be a fine way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon. With Sony Classics as its distributor you can expect it in a theatre in your area and shouldn't be disappointed if you decide to make the move of seeing it.
Several foreign films today. From the Philippines comes Dog Food (though perhaps a better translation would be Dog Meat), a film whose screenplay won the Philippine equivalent of the Pulitzer prize. It is the story of Lily, a young girl living with her father, a police officer suspended for a minor corruption charge that he maintains is a fake, a her newly pregnant stepmother. When the Lily's ageing dog is sold to the local butcher Teban to make a feast for her father's birthday she struggles to save it. The butcher, moved by her caring, returns the dog and the two become friends. But when her father's increasing bitterness over his suspension begins to take its toll on the family and Teban's livelihood is threatened by the outlawing of dog meat the two must help each other face severe hardships.
Dog Food makes a valid point of the hypocrisy of designating some animals as food while others are beloved pets this is by no means the main focus. It is a real human story and under the direction of Carlos Siguion-Reyna the film invokes, at first, the desire to step into the story and offer a friendly world of advise to help sort things out. As things go on, however, this desire changes to wishing to step into the film and choke the crap out of some people who really come to deserve it. There are some disturbing scenes in this film, particularly in the first five minutes, but sticking with it leads to a wonderful reward in the end.
It's hard to judge foreign films on their originality sometimes. What may seem derivative or formulaic to us may be brilliant and groundbreaking elsewhere. Such is the case with Thailand director Yongyooth Thongkonthun's film The Iron Ladies. If this were a Hollywood film the plot would seem tired. A group of misfits (in this case drag queens) wind up on a sports team (in the case volleyball), each has their own private issues to work out (ranging from failed love affairs to homophobia or being closeted from their parents) and must triumph over scorn, ridicule and oppression from the organizers to go on to win the big championship. But The Iron Ladies is not a Hollywood film and, even more importantly, it is based very closely on a true story.
As it turns out The Iron Ladies is funny, heartwarming, well directed and solidly grounded in reality in the final credits where the stories and photos of the real Iron Ladies appear. Maybe the next time somebody wants to make The Replacements they should start looking overseas for their director.
Now, time for me to open myself up to lynching... Vulgar, written and directed by Bryan Johnson and produced by Kevin Smith under the View Askew banner is irredeemably awful. Meeting Kevin Smith was the only positive part of the experience.
Vulgar tells the tale of Slappy the clown a hard-luck children's performer with an impossibly overbearing mother, a group of obnoxious losers who seem to have nothing better to do than sit on his front lawn drinking and hurling bottles and abuse at him. In a moment of desperation he hits on the idea of becoming a vulgar clown act for stag parties only to have his first clients (a father and two moronic sons) beat and rape him. The rape scene is gratuitously violent and full of inappropriate gags. In fact, that basically sums up the entire movie. Johnson's script and direction expect us to be able to change gears between far too many tones and stories far too quickly. The effect is similar to going from first to fourth gear and back repeatedly without the benefit of a clutch. About 60 people walked out of this film and I must say I was tempted to join them. The few good scenes are debased and destroyed by ones which occur later and the characters and performances are nothing special. Slappy, real name Will, is a particular problem since Brian O'Halloran who plays him lacks any sense of comic timing, a trait probably important for someone playing a clown. As for Johnson, I can't fault him entirely as he also gives the best performance in the film; which might have something to do with writing himself the most believable character.
Overall Vulgar is a waste and actually painful to watch (despite repeated audience complaints Johnson insisted on keeping the film at a volume where it was almost an assault on those of us in the front half of the theatre) and offers no validation to those who remain through the end for the Herculean task of enduring it. This is the kind of film which opens on a Friday to a number of cult fans and is buried by its own word of mouth before the Sunday matinees start.
Midnight Madness brings us a double bill: a wonderful short by Norbert Keil that ponders the question "What's going on in the rest of the world while slasher movies are playing out on screen?" and Glenn Stranding's The Irrefutable Truth About Demons. Demons tells the story of Dr. Henry Ballard a professional paranormal debunker (played quite well by Karl Urban of Hercules and Xena who Noizangl wanted me to point out is actually even hotter than he appears in those programs) who becomes the target of a modern day sorcerer of Alistair Crowley's ilk. Flung into a world he cannot accept the reality of Ballard is chased by demons both real and psychological and loses touch of where reality begins and ends. With the help of a mysterious practitioner/goth chick he must find a way to draw on a power he does not even believe he possesses to hope to survive.
Demons is the kind of film that isn't really a great motion picture (I could find 20 holes in the plot with about 10 minutes of effort) but damn if it isn't a lot of fun! I am so thankful for low budget horror which still has to rely on suspense instead of special effects to get its point across. It often makes for better storytelling and The Irrefutable Truth About Demons is at least one hundred times better than the recent blockbuster drek End of Days (which isn't saying much). Here's another challenge for you AICN fans, resist the urge to see Vulgar and instead pester your local theatre managers to book this smart, scary, well-written New Zealand film. After all, if it succeeds we may see a lot more of Karl Urban with his shirt off which, for those of you inclined to like such things, would be well worth it.
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