(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
Not long ago, the MSM relegated social media to kickers about flash mobs, or grandpa’s first tweet. Then, the Arab Spring happened, precipitating the rise of the citizen journalist. Case in point: 19 year-old Ala’a Basatneh, subject of Joe Piscatella’s doc. The Damascus-born Chicagoan is a key player in the Syrian revolution, as in “key stroke”. It’s not just about Ala’a, but her compatriots in Syria, some who’ve made the ultimate sacrifice. Timely and moving.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
There’s much to regard in Nancy Kate’s enlightening documentary about the complex private and public life of the iconic intellectual polymath. Kate is deft at deconstructing, then reassembling all of the “Susan Sontags” (cultural critic, activist, feminist pioneer, provocateur) into a rich portrait. Great archival footage; in my favorite clip Sontag cleans the floor with some wingnut who questions her “patriotism” for her pragmatic essay about the 9/11 attacks (we could sure use her now).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
John Ridley’s biopic focuses on Jimi Hendrix’s formative “London period”, just prior to his super-stardom. Outkast guitarist Andre Benjamin uncannily captures Hendrix’s mannerisms, and the Swinging Sixties are recreated with verisimilitude, but it’s more soap than rock opera. Glaring absence of original Hendrix music is a minus (the filmmakers couldn’t get the rights). Adding to the deficit, the movie feels like an unfinished project, because it ends rather abruptly. Then again, so did Jimi’s journey.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 2, 2014)
1967-2014
You know how I know Philip Seymour Hoffman was a great actor? Because he always made me cringe. You know what I mean? It’s that autonomic flush of empathetic embarrassment that makes you cringe when a couple has a loud spat at the table next to you in a restaurant, or a drunken relative tells an off-color joke at Thanksgiving dinner. It’s a good sign when an actor makes me cringe, because that means he or she has left their social filter on the dressing room table, and shown up for work naked and unafraid.
And Hoffman did so without fail, in role after role, naked and unafraid. I’m sad beyond words that such a giant talent has left us so soon. Here are 10 “cringe-worthy” highlights:
Almost Famous– Although it’s essentially a cameo, this is one of my favorite Hoffman performances. He plays the late great gonzo rock critic Lester Bangs in Cameron Crowe’s auto-biographical dramedy about a teenage journalist hired by Rolling Stone magazine to tag along and formulate a “think piece” about a touring rock band.
Boogie Nights– While he wasn’t the star, this was Hoffman’s breakout performance. It’s a real testament to Hoffman’s genius that he managed to leave such an impression on audiences and critics with his supporting role as “Scotty J.” in P.T. Anderson’s 1997 opus about the 70s porno film industry; especially considering the huge cast.
Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead– Strongly recalling The King of Marvin Gardens, this nightmarish neo-noir-cum Greek tragedy, stars Hoffman as a stressed-out businessman with bad debts and very bad habits, which leads him to take desperate measures. He enlists his not-so-bright brother (Ethan Hawke) to help him pull an ill-advised heist involving a business owned by their elderly parents (Rosemary Harris and Albert Finney). Things go horribly wrong. Great work from the entire cast, and superbly directed by Sidney Lumet.
Capote- Undoubtedly the role Hoffman will be best remembered by, thanks to his well-deserved Oscar-winning performance as Truman Capote in Bennett Miller’s 2005 film. It’s a riveting dramatization about the complex friendship that developed between the writer and convicted killer Perry Smith while Capote was researching his “true crime” masterwork, In Cold Blood.. Hoffman isn’t merely playing Truman Capote in this movie, he is Truman Capote.
Happiness– This 1998 Todd Solondz film features one of Hoffman’s under-appreciated turns. Admittedly, Solondz’s films may not be everyone’s cup of tea (be prepared for that “cringe” factor) but if you’re OK with network narratives involving nothing but completely fucked-up individuals, this is your ticket. Brave performances all around in this veritable merry-go-round of modern dysfunction.
And rounding off the top 10, here are links to my full reviews of five more films featuring notable Hoffman performances:
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 9, 2014)
Digby has invited me to share my memories and thoughts about the Beatles performing on the Ed Sullivan Show 50 years ago today (CBS is airing a 2 hour tribute special tonight-Paul and Ringo are doing a couple numbers!). Truth be told, that “memory” is a little fuzzy, for a couple of reasons. On February 9, 1964, I was all of 7 years old; a tad on the young side to fully grok the hormonal/cultural impact of this “screaming ‘yeah-yeah’ music” (as my dad would come to define any rock’n’roll he might overhear wafting from my room throughout my formative years).
Also, I was living in Fairbanks, Alaska. At the time, none of the local TV stations were equipped to carry live network feeds. We would get Walter Cronkite a day late (the tapes had to be shipped from Seattle via commercial jet flights). And weekly programs like Sullivan were, well, one week late. So technically I “remember” watching the Beatles 50 years ago… next Sunday.
My true “discovery” of the Beatles occurred soon after I turned 11, during the summer of 1967, when my best pal George (who was 2 years my senior) practically browbeat me into blowing a month’s worth of allowance to pick up a copy of Sgt. Pepper’s, assuring me that it would change my life. He was right. Sgt. Pepper turned out to be my gateway drug to all the music (from psychedelic and garage to metal and prog and punk and new wave and everything in between) that has become a crucial element of my life to this day.
I’ve done a few posts in the past about the Beatles on film, and figured I had covered most angles. But the funny thing about Beatles-related movies and documentaries is that, like the band’s legacy itself, it’s a gift that seems to keep on giving. Just when you think you’ve learned everything there is to know, there’s Something New (hey…that would make a cool album title). A few weeks ago, I was perusing the bins of a music and video store here in Seattle, and stumbled upon a straight-to-DVD documentary from the UK with an intriguing (if unwieldy) title called Going Underground: Paul McCartney, The Beatles and the UK counter-culture.
Focusing on a specific period of London’s underground scene, it connects the dots between the American Beats (Ginsberg, Kerouac & co.), the social, sexual and aesthetic sea change in the UK during the early to mid-60s, and analyzes its subsequent influence on the Beatles (one word: acid). As one interviewee observes, “They were probably the most avant-garde group in Britain, but also the most commercial.” Actually the Beatles don’t enter the narrative until about halfway through, but it’s still an absorbing watch.
I’ll leave you with one of my favorite Beatle songs/clips (and a perfect example of that avant-garde/commercial dichotomy). BTW this is also the song I always play for those wizards who claim that Ringo was only a so-so drummer…listen to that mother go!
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 22, 2014)
Operas weren’t the only things that Richard Wagner (1813-1883) composed. He also published some virulently anti-Semitic manifestos (later parsed and re-branded by the Goebbels propaganda machine). Yet, an historical conundrum remains: Some of his most stalwart patrons and artistic collaborators were Jews (even Wagner scratched his head over their unwavering devotion). Director Hilan Warshaw sets about trying to make sense of it all in his documentary, using a mix of historical re-enactments and interviews with biographers, Israeli classical musicians and academics. While predicated on an intriguing premise, I found the film a bit on the dry side; although at just over an hour, it isn’t pretending to go too deep. It does raise an interesting question regarding whether it’s possible to separate an artist’s creative achievements from their peccadilloes and/or politics (for a more absorbing exploration on that theme, see Ray Muller’s great 1993 documentary, The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl).
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 22, 2014)
So Stalin and Hitler walk into a bar. Actually, it’s a hotel bar, and in reality, it’s a pair of German vaudevillians who have developed a musical comedy act based on their impersonations.
Onstage, Hans (Michael Herbig) plays Stalin, and his partner Siegfried (Jurgen Vogel) portrays Hitler. Since this is Berlin in 1938, their act is becoming a bit risqué . Siegfried, a dedicated Communist, is the first to see the writing on the wall and decides to get out of Dodge, informing his partner that he’s going underground, dragging their mutual love interest Frida (Thekla Reuten) with him.
Hans, who is apolitical, wants to keep his eye on the prize (he dreams of making it in Hollywood). He flees Berlin some time later via a forged Russian passport. Through a series of mix-ups, Hans ends up at the Hotel Lux (where the real Stalin and his inner circle are ensconced) mistaken for Hitler’s personal astrologer, with whom Stalin is eager to consult.
At first, Hans ingratiates himself with Stalin, who likes the positive card readings. But Uncle Joe is mercurial, so Hans doesn’t know how long his charade will protect him from arbitrary execution. Much political intrigue (and hilarity) ensues. Sort of a cross between The Last Metro and The Court Jester, Leander Haussmann’s film is uneven at times, but carried by the winning performances.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 22, 2014)
Cecilia Peck’s documentary is a portrait of Linor Abargil, an Israeli beauty queen turned women’s rights activist. That conversion was borne of a horrific personal trauma. At the age of 18, and just 6 weeks prior to being crowned Miss World in 1998, she was kidnapped, stabbed and raped while visiting Italy. Peck and her camera crew followed the seemingly tireless Abargil around the world for five years, documenting her drive to ensure that her attacker (eligible for parole this year) never sees the light of day, and continue her ongoing campaign to promote awareness of this often unreported crime. Everywhere she travels, she encourages victims to begin their healing by giving testimony. This is the most moving and inspiring aspect of the film; listening to these women (of all nationalities, social strata and ages) recounting their experiences and realizing how much courage it takes to come forward. You can’t help but feel outrage at the most maddeningly puzzling aspect of this vile and violent crime: Why does the burden of proof fall largely upon the victim?
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 22, 2014)
This intense drama from writer-director Wladyslaw Pasikowski (which reminded me of the 1990 West German film, The Nasty Girl) concerns a Polish émigré (Ireneusz Czop) who makes a visit from the U.S. to his hometown for the first time in decades to attempt a reconciliation with his estranged brother (Maciej Stuhr). He quickly gleans that his brother (whose wife has recently left him) has become a pariah to neighboring farmers and many locals in the nearby village. After some reluctance, his brother shows him why: he’s been obsessively digging out head stones from local roads that were originally re-appropriated from a Jewish graveyard during WW2, converting his wheat field into a makeshift cemetery. Oddly, he’s also learning Hebrew (the brothers are non-Jews). Not unlike the protagonist in Field of Dreams, he can offer no rational explanation; “something” is compelling him to do it. It seems he’s also dredging up shameful memories among the village elders that they would prefer not to process. It is a powerfully acted treatise on secrets, lies…and collective guilt.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on December 6, 2014)
That SInking Feeling – BFI Blu-ray (Region “B”)
This relatively obscure, low-budget 1979 wonder marked the debut for quirky Scottish writer-director Bill Forsyth (Gregory’s Girl, Local Hero). Sort of a Glaswegian version of Big Deal on Madonna Street, it’s the story of an impoverished teenager, tired of eating cornflakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, who comes up with a scheme to make him and his underemployed pals rich beyond their wildest dreams-knocking over a plumbing supply warehouse full of stainless steel sinks. Funny as hell, imbued with the director’s unique brand of low-key anarchy and a poignant undercurrent of working class Weltschmerz. BFI’s region “B” Blu-ray* is packed with extras, and sports the cleanest transfer I’ve seen of this previously hard-to-find gem (*please note that this region “B”-encoded disc requires a region-free Blu-ray player for playback).
