This naturalistic drama from Venezuelan writer-director Mariana Rondon concerns a 9 year-old named Junior (Samuel Lange Zambrano) who lives in the rough-and-tumble tower blocks of Caracas with his mother Marta (Samantha Castillo) and baby brother. Impoverished and recently widowed, Marta scrapes out a meager living cleaning rich people’s homes. She desperately wants her old job back as a security guard, but her sleazebag ex-supervisor will help her get reinstated only if she agrees to sleep with him. Adding to her stress, Junior is becoming obsessed with his hair; he wants it straightened, to emulate his favorite pop singer. Most worrisome to Marta, he’s showing an “unmanly” interest in singing and dancing. The increasing tension between mother and son is about to boil over. Using equal parts character study and kitchen sink drama, Rondon metes out subtle social commentary about slum life, class struggle and machismo in Latin culture.
Israeli director Noaz Deshe’s impressive, strikingly photographed debut is a character/cultural study about the travails of a young albino Tanzanian. There’s also a “ripped from the headlines” element; According to a 2013 U.N. report on human rights, there has been an escalation of horrifying attacks on albinos in Tanzania, because (there’s no delicate way to put this) their organs and body parts have become a high-demand commodity for witch doctors (who use them in rituals and potions). Such is the possible fate for Alias (Hamisi Bazili), sent by his mother to live with his uncle (James Gayo) after witnessing his father’s brutal murder. As if it wasn’t tough enough for bush-dwelling Alias to adjust to life in the big city, his uncle is in debt to gangsters. The subtext recalls Peter Weir’s The Last Wave; a modernized indigenous society struggling to shake off archaic superstitions without losing their sense of cultural identity.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
Amit Kumar directs this Bollywood crime thriller, a tale of an idealistic rookie Mumbai cop (Vijay Varma) eager to prove his mettle to his partner (Neeraj Kabi), a cynical and world-weary veteran. He gets his chance when he finds himself in a do-or-die face-off with a notoriously slippery assassin nicknamed “The Axe Man”. To shoot, or not to shoot…that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer through a drawn out court trial, or to take arms, blow this pain-in-the-ass recidivist away now and get a promotion. Perchance to dream…and that’s where the film takes a clunky turn into Run Lola Run/Point Blank territory. Ay, there’s the rub; pedestrian execution of its central conceit puts the damper on an otherwise stylish effort.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
Remember the scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind where Roy counters the government official’s spin with “You can’t fool us by agreeing with us”? Life imitates art in John Lundberg’s brain-teasing documentary. Along with screenwriter Mark Pilkington, he’s assembled a treatise suggesting the government did, in fact, “fool” UFO conspiracy theorists over the years by “agreeing” with them. And if you ask the film’s central player, ex-spook Richard C. Doty, he’s more than happy to confess that his prime directive as the Air Force’s chief liaison with the Roswell believers was two-fold: keep tabs on the higher-profile UFO buffs, whilst feeding them enough tantalizing disinformation to keep the mythology thriving. Unless…that’s what he wants us to think (hmm). That’s the conundrum that kept me hooked. Fans of The X-Files will dig this one.
(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on May 17, 2014)
Man goes in the cage. Cage goes in the arena. Preacher’s in the cage. Preacher says a prayer, the two men proceed to pound the holy crap out of each other, and the crowd goes wild. Sunday! SUNday!! SUNDAY!!! Elmer Gantry meets Beyond Thunderdome in this objective and fascinating doc directed by Daniel Junge and Bryan Storkel, which profiles several manly men of faith (MMA competitors all) who lead “fight ministries” (a growing trend). But…what about that whole “love thy neighbor” and “turn the other cheek” thing in the Bible? Well, if watching The Legend of Billy Jack taught us anything, it’s this: Do it in the name of Heaven, you can justify it in the end.
(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!
