Videos

Coming Through the Rye

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2015)

Occasionally, I’m a real starstruck starfucker; I’ve met two of my own idols, and each time was a story in itself. I’m a fan of both The Catcher in the Rye and Nine Stories, too (though not so much Franny and Zooey).

So not surprisingly, I found the premise of Coming Through the Rye appealing and totally relatable: set in 1969, Jamie Schwartz (Alex Wolff), an angsty, unpopular, nerdy high school student at an all-boy boarding school in Pennsylvania, sets out to track down the reclusive J.D. Salinger (Chris Cooper). Like many a midcentury American boy, Jamie says Salinger’s Catcher changed his life; although he’s not as harsh, he identifies with Holden Caulfield because he sees himself isolated and surrounded by phonies. He seeks the author’s blessing on his senior project, a stage adaptation of Catcher (in which Jamie plays Caulfield, of course) to be performed at his school.

Anyone remotely familiar with Salinger knows that Jamie isn’t getting his wish, something at least two teachers let him know. The kid will not take no for an answer. After failing to reach Salinger both by letter and by dropping in on his agent in New York City, a series of unfortunate events at school prompts Jamie to take off and look for Salinger himself. Deedee (Stefania Owen), a local girl who likes him and fortunately for him has a car (a cool Rambler), picks him up and offers to drive. The two embark on a short odyssey through New England.

Equal parts road movie, romance, and coming of age story, there’s quite a bit to like here. Based on actual events from his own high school years, writer and director James Steven Sadwith crafts a straightforward, easygoing story that flows naturally. The many parallels between Jamie and Caulfield—right down to a red hunter’s cap and a disquieting older brother (Zephyr Benson)—are cute; the fact that Jamie is the only Jewish kid at a WASPy boarding school is a nice touch that underscores his status as an outsider. Sadwith does a fine job showing the loss of Jamie’s innocence through a number of small events. Wolff and Owen have a wonderfully guileless chemistry that works really well; a scene with milkweed blowing in the wind is downright beautiful. Jamie’s ultimate discoveries, however, aren’t so cute—this is what keeps Coming Through the Rye from turning into nostalgic drivel.

97 minutes
PG-13

(Gene Siskel Film Center) B

http://www.comingthroughtheryemovie.com

Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2016)

Married duo Fisher Stevens and Alexis Bloom’s Bright Lights is very much like the best pop songs from the ’80s: it’s a fun and vibrant affair with an underlying note of sadness that lingers throughout. With Bright Lights, set to air on HBO in Spring 2017, they offer an up close and personal look into the lives of Debbie Reynolds and Carrie Fisher, neither of whom needs an introduction.

The story is built around a nightclub show Reynolds is putting together as a sort of farewell. Fisher is ever present to offer support, advice, and constructive criticism to her mother, who clearly is growing frail. They have a great rapport and a seemingly normal relationship despite their eccentricities: Reynolds is a workaholic and Fisher is, well, not. They live in their own homes on the same property, separated only by one small Hollywood hill. They spend their days together and seem to have a lot of fun. Their interactions are often amusing and kind of crazy (and I mean that in a good way). Not surprisingly, Fisher is a lot more animated and cheekier than her mother: she has a great chat with pal Griffin Dunne on her bed, where they discuss his deflowering her back in the day. She also shows us a Princess Leia sex doll she has and doesn’t know how to use.

It’s not all fun and games, though. Stevens and Bloom touch on the infamous split between Reynolds and ex-husband Eddie Fisher, who left her for Elizabeth Taylor, and the impact it had on both Fisher and her brother, Todd, who also makes an appearance. Fisher briefly discusses growing up in her mother’s shadow. She gets into her drug use, mental problems, and past relationship with Paul Simon. There’s a segment about Eddie Fisher’s death. There’s also the heartbreaking story of Reynolds’s ill-fated attempt at curating a museum of Hollywood artifacts; she reluctantly aborted her plan and auctioned off her acquisitions when it started to drain her finances.

Even though it seems both are playing to the camera a bit, Bright Lights delivers on showing a pretty well adjusted familial relationship. What struck me most about this documentary, though, is that for both Reynolds and Fisher, their best days—along with Hollywood’s—are behind them. A lot of dead legends are referenced here. Many viewers probably will regard Reynolds’s show, like all farewell tours, as an act of desperation; the fact that the fans at the shows are almost exclusively senior citizens drives home the point that this is literally the last leg of an era. A scene at the end that depicts Reynolds accepting a Screen Actors’ Guild lifetime achievement award demonstrates how frail she has become, and it’s tough to watch. Fisher earns a living making appearances at comic and memorabilia festivals where fans pay to have their picture taken with her; for all her flip irreverence, she’s very careful not to demean any of them.

Whether the filmmakers intended it, the failed Hollywood museum illustrates the idea that all good things must come to an end: the lights, as bright as they may be, eventually will turn down. Let’s hope, to steal the title of one of those aforementioned ’80s pop songs, that there is always something there to remind me.

Screening followed by a live Q and A with director Fisher Stevens.

95 minutes
Not rated

(AMC River East) C

Chicago International Film Festival

Strike a Pose

Video posted on by moviebloke

(Belgium/Netherlands 2016)

It’s no secret that Madonna’s Truth or Dare occupies a special place in my heart (https://moviebloke.wordpress.com/2016/08/26/truth-or-dare-in-bed-with-madonna/ ). As ladies with an attitude or fellas that were in the mood, the dancers are a big reason why; all seven young guys proved to be more than incidental eye candy, each adding considerable spirit not just to the film but to the tour—and arguably Madonna’s persona. Strike a Pose shows where they are now, which isn’t necessarily pretty but certainly isn’t all that bad.

Directors Ester Gould and Reijer Zwaan get into the past and even dig up a little dirt, like the lawsuits some of the dancers filed after Truth or Dare came out. Thankfully, they don’t spend a lot of time on either. Instead, they focus on what exactly working with Madonna during such a pivotal time in her career brought to each of their lives, for better or for worse. What each dancer ultimately ended up doing isn’t as interesting as the subtext, which suggests that it was all an illusion.

As one might expect, some of the dancers at least on the surface have done better than others. Salim “Slam” Gauwloos, Luis Camacho, and Kevin Stea are working choreographers (Stea also got into deejaying and recently even recorded an album). Carlton Wilborn, the only one who toured with Madonna again after Blond Ambition, published a biography and is now a life coach. Jose Gutierez Xtravaganza lives with his mother in her apartment in New York. Oliver Crumes is married and possibly disabled—it’s not entirely clear, but that’s what I deduced. Sadly, Gabriel Trupin died in 1995 (which I already knew). His mother, Sue, has a lot to say about his role in Truth or Dare.

As a huge Madonna fan, Strike a Pose did not reveal much that I didn’t already know. That said, one thing that blew me away was that three of the dancers knew they were HIV-positive during the tour, yet none of them said anything about it. I’m not judging—anyone who made it through the “crisis years” of AIDS understands why. Still, it’s sad that not even someone as big and unfazed as Madonna, who gave a poignant speech about Keith Haring and featured a gay kiss in her tour documentary, was capable of creating a safe space then. Things have changed.

It’s easy to write off Strike a Pose as a lame attempt by minor players to milk their 15 minutes of fame, but I didn’t find them to come off that way. Not at all. Each seems sincerely okay with where he is, which is great. None of them plug any current projects. If anything, the focus is on what one does after the lights dim. Each of them has faced demons—drugs, disease, career obstacles. In fact, Camacho suggests that they are all responsible in one way or another for forcing Madonna to back away from them.

None of the dancers are as fierce as they were 25 years ago; this didn’t bother me because frankly I’m not, either. Watching Strike a Pose feels like meeting up with some friends you haven’t seen in a long time. If there’s one thing I learned from this documentary, it’s that Truth or Dare touched a lot more people than I thought. The one thing that would’ve been nice: Madonna showing up.

Screening followed by a live Q and A with Carlton Wilborn.

83 minutes
Not rated

(AMC River East) B-

Chicago International Film Festival

http://www.strikeaposefilm.com

One Week and a Day [Shavua ve Yom]

Video posted on by moviebloke

(Israel 2016)

I suppose in Asaph Polonsky’s first full-length feature, One Week and a Day, nothing can be said to be certain except death and intoxication, the former of course bringing about the latter. With a dry and tentative sense of humor, he demonstrates how different people come to terms with grief as they struggle to move forward.

After sitting shiva for their son and sole offspring, Ronnie, a cancer victim, the Spivaks—Eyal (Shai Avivi) and Vicky (Evgenia Dodina)—gingerly go about getting back into their normal routine over the course of a day. As might be expected, it’s not easy: there’s a lot to do. Eyal, clad in shorts and sandals, isn’t up for the task—any task, it turns out. He decides to try a different approach when on a mission to retreive a blanket of many colors at the hospice where Ronnie died he instead finds his son’s medical marijuana—a humungous unopened foil bag of it.

There’s a lot of pot humor here: hiding the doobage in Eyal’s fly, toking up, hazy discussions, keeping the buzz on the D.L., playing ping pong and games that involve kittens, even an air guitar session with Zooler (Tomer Kapon), the next door neighbor’s son, a big stoner who works in food service and dutifully shows Eyal how to roll a joint (not with a gummy worm). Vicky, a sober school teacher with a lot on her plate, goes about her business jogging, going for a checkup with her dentist, and tutoring a young student in her home while Eyal and Zooler get baked. She gets an idea of her own. While all this is going on, Eyal has until 4:00 p.m. to confirm a reservation for two plots next to Ronnie at an already overcrowded cemetery, or he and Vicky forfeit them forever.

I enjoyed the offbeat humor of One Week and a Day, which has a few downright beautiful scenes—like Zooler’s pretend surgery to remove a hospice patient’s cancer for the benefit of her young daughter. However, the characters suffer from a certain flatness. When the smoke clears, though, this is a touching and often poignant story. The film neatly demonstrates that petty annoyances, drudgery, and boredom are all a part of life and persist even in the face of grief.

Screening followed by a live Q and A with director Asaph Polonsky.

98 minutes
Not rated

(AMC River East) B-

Chicago International Film Festival

http://bsheepfilms.com/portfolio/one-week-and-a-day/

Like Crazy [La pazza gioia]

Video posted on by moviebloke

(Italy 2016)

The festival program called Paolo Virzì’s Like Crazy a “hysterical, edgy comedy,” which is not entirely accurate (http://www.chicagofilmfestival.com/film/like-crazy/). For sure, the premise is fun: two female mental patients escape on a city bus and head for an adventure that includes shopping, stealing cars, gambling, clubbing, and getting a sort of revenge on some of those who did them wrong. Plus, the patient who instigates the caper, MILFy Beatrice (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi), is a hilarious character: an imperious namedropping motormouth who fabricates lie upon lie to get herself into (and out of) one shady shenanigan after another, she steamrolls everyone in her path for frivolity—more medication, booze, food, attention—and then condescends to them like they’re peons. Think of an Italian version of Patsy, Eddie, and Newhart‘s Stephanie rolled into one. Beatrice’s mere presence puts everyone on edge, not the least of whom are the nuns who run Villa Biondi, the mental hospital where she’s admitted indefinitely. The film is loaded with funny moments that poke fun at sex, religion, family, age, society, and status. There’s also a clever reference to Thelma and Louise.

For all its humor, though, Like Crazy has a sad underlying story: Donatella (Micaela Ramazzotti), a fragile wounded bird whom Beatrice drafts into her escapade, has a terribly dark past that includes trying to kill her infant son. The film takes a serious turn when Beatrice sets out to reunite him with Donatella. The two women become a support system, with the former serving as the latter’s rock until she discovers that she’s stronger than she thought even with her imperfections. Bruni Tedeschi and Ramazzotti are equally strong, and they operate with a nicely calibrated balance of outrageous and desperate. Aside from a rather random interlude with Beatrice’s ex-husband (Bob Messini), the story plays out damn near perfectly. Like Crazy is a joy but also very touching. My eyes were moist by the end—that caught me off guard, in a good way.

Side note: Vladan Radovic’s cinematography is gorgeously warm, bright, and summery throughout the film—a contrast that becomes more apparent as the mood here gets heavier. It’s a very nice touch.

116 minutes
Not rated

(AMC River East) B+

Chicago International Film Festival

Christine

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2016)

“In keeping with Channel 40’s policy of bringing you the latest in ‘blood and guts’ and in living color, you are going to see another first—attempted suicide.”

—Christine Chubbuck

During the summer of 1974, local television reporter Christine Chubbuck shot herself in the head on the air while presenting a live news segment at a small station in Sarasota, Florida. I’m not spoiling anything by saying Christine leads up to this jarring moment, but screenwriter Craig Shilowich and director Antonio Campos apparently aim to demonstrate why it happened. A dispositive answer never comes—it could have been a number of reasons, as the film suggests—but that’s because no one but Chubbuck knows for sure. Christine isn’t really about this singular moment, anyway—it’s an intense, sometimes humorous but thoroughly wrenching character study of the solitary woman behind it.

The first time we see Chubbuck (Rebecca Hall) is, appropriately, on a TV monitor: she’s alone in a room interviewing an imaginary Richard Nixon, aggressively grilling him on Watergate. She watches herself, taking notes on how she looks and sounds. She asks a passing colleague about her performance, probing as to whether she comes off as warm and human. This scene succinctly sets up Chubbuck’s dilemma: she wants to be a real journalist going after important newsworthy stories, not the fluff pieces about chickens she usually covers. The problem is, she doesn’t come off quite right: she’s awkward, brusque, combative, and not particularly “feminine,” characteristics that she’s all too aware thwart her chances of improving her lot with a spot as an anchor in a larger market.

Chubbuck lives with her mother (J. Smith-Cameron) and pines for a colleague, anchorman George (Michael C. Hall). She’s an idealist who fights her toxic boss (Tracy Letts) as he pushes to sensationalize the news for the sake of higher ratings. She’s obsessed with her work, which is increasingly unfulfilling. She’s also privately coming undone, something crystal clear from her depressed tendencies, wild mood swings, and bitter resentments toward others she thinks have it better in one way or another than she does.

The cast is spectacular, but it’s no surprise that Hall (Rebecca, not Michael C.) carries Christine—she has to. Hall owns the role: her performance is flawlessly mesmerizing. Resembling a severe Olive Oyl crossed with Wednesday Addams, she deftly uses body language and posture to convey Chubbuck’s uneasy and awkward intensity. Hall slowly and deliberately brings Chubbuck’s frustrations—with her boss, her career, and herself—to a rolling boil. The tone here is clinically journalistic, with the facts of Chubbuck’s situation laid out one by one and offered into evidence for the viewer to make what he or she will of them.

As I watched, I expected Christine to make some profound statement—something about the integrity of “news” in America, gender equality, idealism versus reality, mental health, all of the above. It plants the seeds, but it doesn’t quite get there—it’s either noncommittal or too subtle, I can’t tell which. About halfway through, I realized I wasn’t catching a clear message or a moral. Maybe there isn’t one. A reference to The Mary Tyler Moore Show can be interpreted as irony or cynicism, and it exemplifies Christine‘s ambiguous motive. The film has the feint whiff of exploitation, yet it still tells a lot about Christine Chubbuck and what pushed her over the edge. Christine is respectful to who she was, depicting her as far more than her final moment: she was smart, her peers respected her, she volunteered as a performer at a children’s hospital, and she struggled with many demons. If the actual event played out the way it does in this film, it was a chillingly snarky, mean way to make a point. If nothing else, Christine shows what depression can do to a person.

115 minutes
Rated R

(AMC River East) B

Chicago International Film Festival

Eye of the Cat

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 1969)

Ailurophobia, the irrational fear of felines, forms the basis for Eye of the Cat, a nifty little throwaway from the late Sixties. Despite what its trailer suggests, it’s not an outright horror film—it’s a suspense thriller that relies heavily on psychological tension, very much like Hitchcock did. This isn’t surprising: screenwriter Joseph Stefano previously penned Psycho. Those familiar with Hitchcock will notice a slight feel of Rope and The Birds. Plus, the external shots of San Francisco strongly recall Vertigo.

The plot rings familiar: cosmetologist Kassia Lancaster (Gayle Hunnicutt), whose name “sounds like a prison door slamming shut,” mysteriously and abruptly recruits philandering Wylie (big-eyed Michael Sarrazin) to help her execute a plot to get his rich and ailing stepmother, “Aunt” Danny (Eleanor Parker), to put him back in her will as her sole heir—and then kill her. Wylie’s brother, Luke (Tim Henry), lives with Aunt Danny and is getting in the way. There’s another problem: Wylie has a bad case of ailurophobia, and Aunt Danny’s house is loaded with cats.

Eye of the Cat‘s sum is greater than its parts, and overall I enjoyed this one quite a bit. The title and opening sequence are cool: the animated outline of a housecat slinks over scenes of San Francisco and gives way to split screens that start the story. Stefano and director David Lowell Rich are refreshingly frank and downright casual with their attitude toward and treatment of sex and drugs: nothing is merely implied here. In his first scene, Kassia yanks Wylie naked out of bed—away from the naked woman still next to him. There are references to having sex, they say “have sex,” and they actually do have sex in a few scenes. One unsettling scene between Wylie and Danny in the latter’s bed alludes to a past liason. Later, Wylie and Kassia go to a dope bar on a boat and smoke a joint. One of the patrons at the bar makes a joke about his own homosexuality, which may be one of the earliest openly gay characters I’ve seen.

All four actors, even Parker, possess an effortless and elegant allure. Sarrazin and Henry are hot, and they both have shirtless scenes. Hunnicutt is absolutely gorgeous in her smart skirts and big hair. Lowell Rich builds tension nicely, getting the actors to walk a very fine line between serious horror and camp, something most evident in a brilliant scene involving Danny on a hill in her wheelchair. Lalo Schifrin’s ominous score adds greatly to the mood here.

Except for a solitary orange tabby that clearly has Danny’s back, the cats—an overwhelming throng of them—curiously disappear after the story is set up, and don’t return until the climax. The film ends in a ridiculously horrific way—so bad, I laughed out loud with most of the audience. It’s a pity Eye of the Cat is not available for download or on DVD. It’s a fun movie.

102 minutes
Rated M

(Music Box) B-

Music Box of Horrors

Are We Not Cats

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2016)

Focused on romance, pleasure, and pain, screenwriter and director Xander Robin’s feature length debut, Are We Not Cats, is a stylishly edgy, wry, and quirky delight. Eli (Michael Patrick Nicholson) is neither ambitious nor grounded. In the span of a few hours, he loses his girl (really his f-bud, but he didn’t quite get that), his job as a garbage collector, and his home when his Russian immigrant parents abruptly inform him that they sold their house and are moving to Arizona. “Visit us!” his mother chirps right after his father bribes him with a delivery truck to get out that night.

After moving into the back of the truck, crashing and showering wherever he can, and driving around aimlessly, Eli picks up a one-off job delivering a motor to a junkyard. There, he stumbles upon knitcapped Kyle (Michael Godere), who introduces him to a toxic elixir, a feral underground scene in a basement, and his impish feline girlfriend, Anya (Chelsea LJ Lopez). Eli is smitten. He stalks Anya, who doesn’t seem to mind. He discovers that they share a similar nervous habit: he pulls his hair out and she eats hair. Anya’s magnetism pulls Eli down a dark path he isn’t quite equipped to travel.

Are We Not Cats is uneven, but what it lacks in consistency and depth it makes up for in style. Robin has a wicked dark, offbeat sense of humor. His camerawork is sharp, nimble, and has a certain momentum to it. The locations—a junkyard, a disused barn, an empty diner—work beautifully with the bleak, snow covered landscapes to underscore Eli’s resigned state of mind. Robin contrasts this with colorfully vivid and cozy scenes with Anya, who possesses a flair for clutter. Matt Clegg’s druggy, dreamlike cinematography is flat where it should be, and brighter and more dimensional where it needs to be. The story sags a bit toward the end, but the film’s brevity mitigates this problem. Nicholson’s passive and forlorn take on his scruffy character is deftly balanced; somehow, he keeps Eli sympathetic despite the fact that his hapless demeanor, lack of social skills and boundaries, and sleepy purposelessness are turnoffs. The soundtrack, consisting almost entirely of old Seventies soul tunes, is as much a character as anyone; the music contributes its own warmth and personality that literally makes this film sing.

Screening followed by a live Q and A with Xander Robin and Michael Patrick Nicholson.

78 minutes
Not rated

(AMC River East) B-

Chicago International Film Festival

http://www.arewenotcats.com

Hieronymus Bosch: Touched by the Devil [Jheronimus Bosch, Touched by the Devil]

Video posted on by moviebloke

(Netherlands 2015)

For an artist with such a unique vision that transcends his time, Hieronymus Bosch: Touched by the Devil is a really boring tribute. I expected the focus to be on the artist and his ideas about hell—unfortunately, director Pieter van Huystee gives only fleeting, superficial treatment to both. Instead, the focus here is on the process of culling an exhibit in Den Bosch, the city where the artist spent his entire life, to commemorate the 500th anniversary of his death. Oddly, none of his 25 or so existing works are housed there. The film follows a group of art historians as they circle the globe examining pieces to confirm or negate their authenticity and meet with museum executives to broker deals for borrowing works. Along the way, an unknown panel, The Temptation of St. Anthony, is “discovered” in of all places Kansas City.

Museum politics and egos are caught in action, as is the thrill of discovering the unknown St. Anthony. A bit of time is devoted to an interesting discussion on works produced after Bosch’s death. Overall, though, Hieronymus Bosch: Touched by the Devil is a rather lifeless affair that shines bright when the camera is pointed at the artist’s work, but not really any other time. It fails to hit the notes or address any questions I wanted it to; its intriguing title is curiously misleading.

87 minutes
Not rated

(Gene Siskel Film Center) C-

http://www.pvhfilm.nl/nieuws-226-jheronimus-bosch-geraakt-door-de-duivel-op-idfa.html?archived=0

 

A Nightmare on Elm Street

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 1984)

I’ve seen A Nightmare on Elm Street twice: once as a teenager and once as a middle-aged adult. I can say with authority: no matter how you slice it, this movie sucks.

The plot sounds like a good idea: a knife-fingered ruffian in a tacky striped sweater reminiscent of the original PBS children’s show Zoom haunts teenagers in their dreams and kills them in their sleep. The problem is, A Nightmare on Elm Street just isn’t scary. It’s silly. Dumb, even. One by one, a bunch of kids gets offed by Freddy Krueger (Robert Englund in the role of a lifetime). There’s a really cool scene of a blood geyser spurting from a bed. Heather Langenkamp’s overacting is amazingly bad. There’s that gorgeously diabolical line, “I’m your boyfriend now, Nancy” followed by a tongue coming out of the receiver (never mind that the phone’s unplugged). A young, dumb, and full of you-know-what Johnny Depp is here, all dolled up in an incredibly gay softcore porn outfit. Bizarre. Nancy’s weirdo vodka-lush mother (Ronee Blakley) adds some much needed comic relief—that final scene! Oh, and that catchy nursery rhyme. Other than that, though, this is tedious slasher stuff warmed over from the ’70s but with a slicker ’80s look. I mean, fuck, do we really need that clanking noise to cue us in that Freddy’s coming? Every time? We get it.

Watching it, one is dumbfounded knowing that A Nightmare on Elm Street spawned an entire franchise let alone a sequel. Sure, it’s got kitsch value, and everyone knows this movie so the late Wes Craven did something right. I’m just not sure what. To be fair, I was well aware of what I was getting into here, so I can’t complain about the experience; I already knew this is bad. I’m glad the theater has a bar and we went early as a group to load up on liquor (not vodka) before siting down—that made it fun for a midnight screening.

91 minutes
Rated R

(Music Box) D-

http://m.nightmareonelmstreet.com

http://nightmareonelmstreetfilms.com