Hey folks, Harry here with Harold Hellman from Movie Geek Central who is keeping all of us here at AICN up to date on the screenings and the flicks of the SEATTLE FILM FESTIVAL! So sit back and enjoy the first 3 days of filmgoing through the eyes of Harold...
O -- USA, 2001 (1999), written by Brad Kaaya, directed by Tim Blake Nelson.
It's unfortunate, really, that this film has been tarnished by controversy. When it finally gets its belated release in August, all the critics will spend at least a quarter of their reviews discussing its two-year-delay and the social background that led to it. This will become the lead story of "O," and overlooked will be the fact that, controversy aside, it's just a damn fine film in its own right.
It's an adaptation of Shakespeare's "Othello," transplanted to a 20th-century prep school. Most of the characters are renamed; Iago becomes Hugo, Roderigo becomes Roger, Desdemona becomes Desi, and so on. The title character is now Odin (shortened to O by his friends), and instead of a successful military leader, he's the star of the school's basketball team. Other than these and other cosmetic changes, and a wholesale update to the language, the movie sticks pretty close to Shakespeare's plot, echoing the play scene by scene and occasionally line by line. ("Reputation." "Reputation?")
The motivating force in the story is envy. Hugo (Josh Hartnett) is jealous of Odin (Mekhi Phifer) for hogging the basketball limelight and for winning the affection of his father (Martin Sheen), who coaches the team. As in "Othello," Hugo manipulates everyone around him, focusing especially on Odin, manufacturing suspicion regarding his girlfriend Desi's (Julia Stiles) faithfulness. He does this using a series of contrivances and coincidences, moving ever closer to his ultimate goal of Odin's destruction.
It's truly remarkable how well this works, and how flat-out riveting the story is. Major credit goes to director Tim Blake Nelson and writer Brad Kaaya for taking the material seriously, and for conveying this sense of seriousness to the cast. This is not "teensploitation," as mentioned by Nelson in the Q&A following the screening; it isn't a music video with violence for the sake of violence. All of the emotional themes in Shakespeare's original are fully explored, and allowed to resonate with real gravity. Nelson makes the same demands of his cast as would be appropriate for the original play, and, incredibly, everyone rises to the challenge. Both Phifer and Stiles are extremely good, and Hartnett, to my amazement, is nothing less than a revelation, capturing the subtle, malevolent intelligence of the Iago figure with ease.
Speaking as someone who knows the source play backwards and forwards, I was astonished at how involved I became, and how effectively I was drawn in to the story's mounting sense of doom. The real test, though, will be its effectiveness on audiences not familiar with "Othello," and I made a point of talking to other audience members after the screening. In particular, a woman near me kept murmuring during the film -- "Oh no," "He's insane," and so on -- and confessed afterward she knew nothing of the play. "But," she said, "the movie was excellent."
In the end, the real tragedy of this film's delay lies, unsurprisingly, in the original distributor's inability to distinguish between content and context. This is assuredly not cartoon violence; nor is it shallow rat-a-tat eye candy. When people in this film commit violence upon one another, it's because they're at the end of their rope, twisted into horrible knots of paranoia and despair. It's about as far from casual and superficial as one can get: The violence is truly horrifying, and it has devastating consequences. "O" was delayed because the original distributor was afraid of being accused of exploiting the Columbine tragedy, but now that we can see the actual film, it's obvious that it should have been immediately positioned as an emphatic and eloquent commentary on and response against that awful event.
Simply stated, on every level, "O" is a major artistic achievement. It's a pity it fell victim to corporate cowardice, but now that independent distributor Lions Gate has rescued it and scheduled it for nationwide release later this summer, we will all get the chance to appreciate a brilliantly crafted and shatteringly powerful film.
Plays again on Sunday, May 27, at 4:00 pm.
SCOUT'S HONOR -- USA, 2001, written by Meg Moritz,
directed by Tom Shepard.
"Scout's Honor" is an hour-long documentary look at the policy of the Boy Scouts of America to refuse participation by homosexuals. Specifically, it focuses on Steven Cozza, a heterosexual Boy Scout who began agitating for a change in the policy at the age of 12, and whose graduation to Eagle Scout comes at the end of the film, with additional attention paid to Tim Curran, an Eagle Scout who was expelled for being gay and who recently lost his case before the U.S. Supreme Court; Dave Rice, a 59-year Scouting veteran, whose Scout Leader registration was terminated over his activism; and others.
The film makes no effort to present a balanced case; it is, unapologetically, on the side of the activists, and it assumes its audience is as well. Taken on this level, it's a powerful validation for people who believe that the Boy Scouts engage in discrimination and bigotry. I'm one of these people, and I found the story of Cozza's crusade very moving, and the separate ousters of Curran and Rice heartbreaking. This will be a very valuable film for a lot of people who are struggling with their identities, and who seek support after being rejected from the Scouts and similar organizations.
But again, make no mistake, this film does almost nothing to convince those on the other side to re-evaluate their positions. It does briefly address the disgusting cliche of gays as child molesters, including a clip of Pat Buchanan from "Crossfire" insanely suggesting that Curran's desire to be a gay Scoutmaster somehow makes him a candidate for NAMBLA membership. To be fair, the Boy Scouts and their compatriots brought this unbalanced portrayal on themselves; they refused all requests for interviews, leaving the filmmakers only a handful of clips for representing the opposition: a collection of idiots on the Supreme Court steps who compare homosexuality to drug abuse, a chilling death threat left on the Cozzas' answering machine, and so on.
Still, I would have liked to see an honest discussion of the legal basis for the Supreme Court ruling, not to mention more attention paid to the Girl Scouts of America's far more open-minded participation policy, and less of the touchy-feely repeated underlining of the righteousness of Cozza's campaign. Perhaps this comes out of my own preference for debate and even-handedness, and my belief that this is far more effective for winning people off the fence than setting up the opposition to look like buffoons and fascists. Again, though, political persuasion doesn't seem to have been the filmmakers' objective, so take my reaction with that in mind.
If you view the film as a statement of solidarity, and for its powerful portrayal of Steven Cozza as a model Boy Scout -- honest, hardworking, mature, and civic-minded -- it is, without question, a success. However, if you've got a close-minded friend or relative whose opinion you want to change, "Scout's Honor" is unlikely to make a dent in their beliefs.
"Scout's Honor" has no more showings at SIFF, but is
airing on public television as part of the POV series.
For information on showings in your area, visit the
Independent Television Service website at
Itvs.Org
LIFT -- USA, 2001, written and directed by DeMane
Davis and Khari Streeter.
The heroine of "Lift" is Denise, shortened by friends and family to Niecy. She's smart, beautiful, and driven, with a potentially rewarding job at an upscale Boston department store. Her primary source of income, however, not to mention emotional fulfillment, comes in shoplifting. She uses forged checks, stolen credit cards, and the old stuff-it-in-the-bag method to boost thousands of dollars of merchandise, mostly designer-label clothes, every month, selling it to friends and giving it to family members in exchange for affection and personal validation. Her boyfriend Angelo is leaving the criminal world behind, and entreats her to do the same, much to her annoyance. Her primary motivation for her career as a thief? Winning the love of her mother, who is distant, uncaring, and totally materialistic.
This may seem like yet another pointless, crime-glorifying urban drama, but in the hands of filmmakers Davis and Streeter, it's surprisingly deep, nuanced, and poignant. The film has a remarkably balanced point of view, acknowledging the prevalence of material success as a symbol of status while forcing the characters to own the responsibility for their complicity in the equation. Their handling of Niecy's character is particularly complex: They carefully maintain the audience's sympathy for her family problems, but they refuse to whitewash her criminal behavior. Her shoplifting successes aren't glorified, but neither are they presented for purposes of heavy-handed moralizing. Niecy is fully and believably human, with admirable strengths and detestable faults.
The film is also very well-made, with outstanding performances from the whole cast. Kerry Washington is excellent in the lead, maintaining the difficult balance of sympathy and culpability. Strong support is also provided by Barbara Montgomery as Niecy's grandmother. Especially good are Lonette McKee as Niecy's mother and Eugene Byrd as the boyfriend Angelo. In addition, there are a few moments of invigorating cinematic audacity, such as when a somber funeral scene reflects Niecy's internal turmoil by crazily transforming into a fashion runway for the clothes she's stolen. It's a serious film, but there are welcome flashes of humor, including Angelo's energetic reaction to a piece of good news from Niecy. Also, in among the hiphop and alternapop on the soundtrack, there are several piece of classical music, a bold choice that serves to make the world richer and more honest. And the screenplay is carefully crafted to draw subtle parallels between various characters and situations, particularly Niecy and her mother.
There are a few inconsequential flaws. The low budget and short shooting schedule is occasionally visible in the camerawork, for example, and some important expositional elements are haphazardly rushed past in the dialogue. In the end, though, these are minor blemishes on a very good film.
During the Q&A following the screening, the filmmakers mentioned that they currently have no distributor for the film. That's a real shame; this is a minor gem, maybe a rung below Boaz Yakim's sparkling debut "Fresh," and there's no reason it wouldn't be embraced by its target audience. Davis and Streeter have made a fine film, honest and emotionally sincere, and it deserves to be seen.
"Lift" has no more screenings at SIFF.
EVERYBODY'S FAMOUS -- Belgium, 2000, written and
directed by Dominique Deruddere.
This foreign-language Oscar contender is a good-natured comic fantasy about a man who kidnaps a famous pop star in an effort to secure a starmaking break for his daughter's singing career. It will inevitably be compared to Scorsese's "King of Comedy," and for the first third of the film this comparison is somewhat valid, as the protagonist, Jean (Josse de Pauw), is established as a lumpy, impulsive anti-hero. Jean is basically harmless, though; while he has an undeniable disconnect with reality, he isn't quite as unhinged or dangerous as Rupert Pupkin.
As the film develops, it departs significantly from the Scorsese model, staking out its own dramatic and thematic ground, particularly regarding a record manager who's concerned about his kidnapped star. And by the time we get to the last half hour, we're in totally new territory, and we find to our surprise that we're in genuine suspense, desperately hoping on behalf of these characters we've gotten to know and care about that everything comes out okay.
There are excellent performances all around. Josse de Pauw as the father is cheerfully inept, managing to keep us from disliking a man who's basically a stubborn, obsessive buffoon. Gert Portael, as his wife, provides conflict without becoming shrill or turning into a harridan. Victor Löw plays the record manager as an amoral, manipulative sleazebag whom, against all odds, we still sort of like. And Eva van der Gucht, as the daughter Marva, is especially good, pulling off a very difficult character arc, going from shy and reserved to... well, you'll see.
Sure, more cynical viewers will probably roll their eyes at the movie's unfailing, unrelenting good-heartedness. Yeah, some of it's fairly predictable. True, the character of the kidnapped pop star remains a frustrating cipher, her choices arbitrarily dictated by the demands of the plot. Yes, some of the plot twists threaten to peg the plausibility meter. None of this, though, is unexpected in an upbeat comic fantasy, and most of it is easily forgivable.
In general, "Everybody's Famous" is charming, laugh-out-loud funny, and heartfelt. It resists the urge to indulge in cheap slapstick, finding its humor instead in nuances of behavior and observation. Even if its intended "message" doesn't bear thinking too deeply about, it's still a sweet and agreeably entertaining film.
"Everybody's Famous" plays again on Sunday, May 27, at
11:30am.
MARSHAL TITO'S SPIRIT -- Croatia, 2000, written by Ivo
Bresan & Vinko Bresan, directed by Vinko Bresan.
A clever and very funny political satire from one of the states of the former Yugoslavia. Communism may have collapsed, but pockets of old-school partisans long for the return of Marshal Tito's totalitarian hand, especially in a small island town where privatization and capitalism haven't served to improve things. When a funeral is interrupted by a mysterious sighting, a young policeman who grew up in the town is dispatched from the mainland to investigate. Everyone believes the mysterious figure is the ghost of Tito, and suddenly the island is a destination for nostalgic Communists.
The film is jam-packed with wry asides and irony, whether it's the throwaway observation about the Revolutionary Museum being "privatized" or that the mayor has embraced capitalism, buying up half the town, and spouts off Marxist phrases as he panders to the flood of tourists in the name of profit. The movie encompasses a wide range of moods and tones, from mystery to satire, romance to history, without ever being less than hilarious, in a perfectly deadpan sort of way. Sometimes the movie is a bit too silly for its own good, as when a pair of special investigators arrive, bearing a striking resemblance to a certain pair of paranormal-centered FBI agents. They're good for quite a few laughs, but then they just sort of hang around looking cool in their sunglasses and playing with their cell phones without adding much to the story.
That's a rare lapse, though, as otherwise the movie is
marvelously paced, brisk and snappy, with a bright
soundtrack. The photography and editing is
occasionally reminiscent of early Peter Jackson, but
otherwise the film has a charmingly homemade look and
feel. The political angle may make it sound dry and
intellectual, but the historical backdrop isn't
complicated at all, at least in terms of what's
required to understand the story; you get everything
you need to know right in context. It's smart,
accessible, marvelously entertaining, and
laugh-out-loud hilarious from beginning to end. A
wonderful surprise from Croatia.
BROTHER -- Japan, 2000, written and directed by
Takeshi Kitano.
Nobody makes movies like Takeshi Kitano. His films are entirely distinctive for their percussive editing, long stretches of stillness, flashes of unexpected humor, and unannounced explosions of savage brutality. They're the cinematic equivalent of Japanese painting, where a blank background is marked with only a few brushstrokes to represent a branch, a mountain, a flower, a bird; Takeshi's similar approach to filmmaking highlights every tiny gesture, every subtle shift in facial expression, creating a sense of austerity and discipline like none other in cinema. It's an acquired taste, to be sure, and not for all audiences, but when it connects, it's an amazing experience.
So if you like Takeshi's previous films -- from "Violent Cop" and "Boiling Point" to "Sonatine" and "Fireworks" -- you'll find much to appreciate in his new work, "Brother." Takeshi plays a yakuza enforcer, as usual almost wordlessly, who is exiled from Japan in the aftermath of a vicious gangland battle that's sketched for us with great economy in a flashback toward the beginning of the film. He winds up in Los Angeles, where his younger brother has fallen into the criminal underworld. Before he's said twenty words, he has taken over his brother's gang and begun moving against the competition.
It's the classic gangster arc -- up from the streets with nothing, spectacular rise, and eventual fall. Takeshi's used it before, but by shifting the action to L.A. he finds new and interesting wrinkles. His evident fascination with the Los Angeles cultural melting pot manifests itself in the careful identification of each criminal organization with a unique ethnic identity; this gives rise to a subtle subtext wherein Takeshi's gang absorbs one or two members of each successive group they defeat, and each individual acquires traits and habits from the new associates. More obvious explorations of this theme include scenes like the very funny basketball game in which Takeshi's lieutenant tries in vain to get the other players to pass him the ball.
Sadly, as much fun as it is to see Takeshi delve into this new territory, it ends up sabotaging him to some extent. The rigorous, highly stylized world of his films is unfortunately incompatible with the naturalistic acting of the Americans who play the L.A. characters. Omar Epps, for example, is a talented man, with incredible screen presence, but his casual charisma is of a very different type than Takeshi's stone-faced minimalism. It's not his fault, really; either Takeshi was deliberately going for this effect, or he didn't make his expectations clear to his American actors. Either way, it's distracting, and dilutes the impact of the film, particularly at the end.
Regardless, there's still a lot to like about "Brother." Takeshi's character is unquestionably a badass; he's always the most dangerous man in the room, and here and there finds small, odd amusements like creating a clever way to cheat at dice. The rhythm of the film, when it's not handicapped by the mismatched cadences of the American actors, is smooth and clean, swinging between wry humor and deep melancholy. The photography is tight and clean; there's a massacre in a darkened parking lot towards the end of the film that's a small tour de force of simplicity and suggestion.
If you're a fan of Takeshi's previous films, this is
obviously a must-see. But if you haven't seen one
before, this isn't the one to start with.
A WEEK IN THE LIFE OF A MAN -- Poland, 1999, written
and directed by Jerzy Stuhr.
This is a slice-of-life drama covering seven days in the life of Adam Borowski (played by director Stuhr), who works as a prosecutor during the day and tries to hold his personal life together during his off hours. Central to the film is an examination of Adam's hypocrisies: He writes a best-selling book on ethics, all the while cheating on his wife. He rails against racism in court on a case against a skinhead, but at home he can't get past his own prejudices against people who still favor the ideals of the ousted communists. He isn't a complete hypocrite, though; he tries to do the right thing when his wife wants to adopt a child from an orphanage, he donates the proceeds of his book to a good cause even though his own finances aren't in the best shape, and he grapples with his mother's failing health.
As in most slice-of-life films, the plotting is a little arbitrary, and there isn't much of a clean or satisfying resolution to anything. The point of the film, though, isn't the story; it's entirely a character study. We watch the protagonist muddling through life, making some good choices, some bad, contradicting himself, essentially saying and doing whatever he has to, either heartfelt or sanctimonious, to get himself through each situation. He has trouble focusing on long-term plans, and frequently gets tripped up by moment-to-moment desires, but at other times he behaves with great honor and respectability.
The film will probably be too slow and contemplative for most audiences; we're expected to pick up on the irony of Adam's choir singing a piece based on Hamlet's "What a piece of work is man" speech, for example, not to mention the fact that he's greatly concerned with the artistic integrity of the performance and apparently doesn't notice the words he's singing. It's also up to us to reconcile the inconsistency of a man who will go to great lengths to help a friend who's struggling with psychological problems, yet will apparently succumb to sexual temptation when the opportunity presents itself. Stuhr, as writer and director, refuses to provide us with easy, superficial answers to these and other questions, which is perhaps unsurprising given his experience acting for Krzysztof Kieslowski.
"A Week in the Life of a Man" is a subtle and very
personal work that probably won't appeal to everyone,
but for people of a certain age, who suffer from
growing insecurities about their accomplishments and
the quality of their character, this is a worthwhile
meditation on ethics and introspection.
AMY'S ORGASM -- USA, 2000, written and directed by
Julie Davis.
"Amy's Orgasm" is a witty, clever, and insightful romantic comedy, despite its occasional reliance on cliche and plot contrivance and a handful of overly cutesy moments. It's a little unpolished in its present form; writer/director Davis acknowledged in the Q&A that it needs a little tightening, but as it is, it's a diamond in the rough, and connects strongly with its intended audience.
The story centers on Amy Mandell (played by Davis), a bestselling self-help author. Her advice about love and relationships has proved influential and made her a popular voice for women, but she hides an uncomfortable secret: Despite her stated philosophy that women and men define love differently, and that women should be able to be happy without male support, she really, really wants to be with a man. Then, while publicizing her book, she does an interview with an abrasive, sexist radio talk-show host (think Howard Stern, but better looking). To her horror, she finds herself attracted to him, and when he pursues her with unexpected charm, she reluctantly submits.
What follows is a generally conventional comedic romance. Amy squabbles with her parents, who just want her to settle down; she argues with her publicist, who keeps trying to prioritize Amy's career over her personal life; and she wrestles with her conscience, not just over the idea of dating an ostensible pig, but because she worries that the advice she's been doling out is, after all, baloney. Along the way, the movie explores a number of common ideas about male/female relations.
For the most part, all of this is very funny and entertaining. Julie Davis is very perceptive about the foibles of flirtation; "Amy's Orgasm" has a three-to-one ratio of original insight to cliche, which is pretty high for this kind of movie. There are also several inventive twists, including a hilarious running joke about Amy, very Jewish, going to Catholic confession. The film makes several minor missteps, though. It stops every now and then for a sort of chapter title, and the accompanying animations are awfully precious. The narrative flow is sometimes interrupted by a too-obvious "relationship insight" that isn't well integrated into the story. And, most unfortunate, the ending lacks any real sense of completion or (ironically, given the title) climax. My moviegoing companion's description is most apt: It begins well, builds strongly for an hour, then coasts for a bit, and then, ultimately, just sort of ends.
Still, despite the tepid conclusion, the movie remains likable, and you walk out with a big smile. Don't be turned off by the title; if "Amy's Orgasm" shows at a festival in your town, or if Davis succeeds in securing distribution, it's definitely worth a look.
Harold Hellman
