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Monday, October 29, 2012

The Dumb Girl of Portici


As part of MoMA's Tenth Annual To Save and Project Festival, the silent film, The Dumb Girl of Portici, was screened. This film, an historical epic directed by pioneer feminist filmmaker Lois Weber and starring the legendary ballerina Anna Pavlova in her only feature film appearance, was an adaption of the 1828 opera La Muette de Portici, by Daniel Auber, a historical re-telling of the uprising of peasants in 1647 Naples against Spanish rule. The piece introduced dance into opera using a mute heroine, whose lack of words are replaced by vibrant and emotional movement.

The film was designed as both a historical drama on a grand scale for 1916 (this also being the time of D.W. Griffith epic films like Birth of a Nation and Intolerance), and a star vehicle for Anna Pavlova, considered to be one of the finest ballerinas in the history of dance, and an exquisite artist in her own right. The film opens with Pavlova dancing en pointe, occasionally being supported by an "invisible" man hidden against the black background. It didn't have much to do with the rest of the film, just a treat for the audience coming to see the great ballerina for the first time on screen.

The opera's plot, at the heart of it, centers Pavlova as Fenella, a poor mute Italian woman, who falls in love with a Spanish nobleman that poses as a fisherman, and ultimately betrays her in order to maintain control of her people. The plot gets complicated, but Pavlova displayed both a moon-eyed fragility, and a wildness that exemplified her creative spirit and cosmopolitan worldliness. She was truly a magnetic star to behold.

However, while Pavlova was an exceptional dancer, she falls into the cliches of silent film acting, by overacting with exaggerated gestures and facial expressions that were sometimes unintentionally hilarious. It was understandable because she was playing a mute woman, with no title cards to display her dialogue, but it resulted in Pavlova waving her body all about wildly, looking more insane, than finding more subtle ways to express emotion through dance.

The film took major chances in staging the riots of the Neapolitian peasants against their Spanish rulers, with a grand finale that MoMA compared Weber's direction of action sequences to be a predecessor to Kathyrn Bigelow. It was wonderful to see hordes of extras playing peasants that were storming the scenes, stabbing one another with swords, falling off of balconies, and taking back their rightful land. Again, the acting can be more influenced by overdramatic theater styles, like extended moaning while dying, and swords clearly going under a victim's arm than through them. But it was the early days of silent film, and The Dumb Girl of Portici was a monumental film that was a landmark for a woman director, a showcase for an unforgettable star, and was a treasure of the Wild West-like days of silent filmmaking, where anything was possible.

2012 DOC NYC - Beth Toni Kruvant's David Bromberg: Unsung Treasure



 How does a Jewish rock musician go from touring the world with his funky, blues-inspired band, who can count Dr. John and Bob Dylan amongst his friends, to giving up performing and, twenty years later, running a small violin shop in Wilmington, DE? It’s a story that is touched by a passionate love for music and creative journeys, and Beth Toni Kruvant's David Bromberg: Unsung Treasure profiles a musician who culled from his influences to play music that fused rock, folk, bluegrass, blues, and country, blending music in a way that celebrates the close ties of many genres, as well as the incredible talents of many diverse artists.

David Bromberg was born in Philadelphia, came up in Tarrytown, NY, and initially taught himself to play the guitar, much to his father’s disapproval of a musician’s life, for personal reasons that Bromberg did not learn until his father was dying. In addition, he became proficient on the fiddle and many styles of the guitar. He got into the Greenwich Village folk scene of the 1960s while attending Columbia, and refined his guitar technique with Reverend Gary Davis, a blues and gospel singer. Bromberg not only learned how to play blues guitar from him, but also learned about the style of phrasing from the gospel church, telling stories and captivating an audience while shaping music in time, a practice he would take in his live concerts.

As Bromberg assembled his band, he collaborated with many other artists. George Harrison co-wrote “The Hold-Up” on Bromberg’s first album, a jaunty folk song with trumpets about a robbery. When hearing his music, it’s listening to lengthy stories while being amazed by the talent that Bromberg surrounds himself with. The 1970s were a glorious time for music, where musicians collaborated closely with one another, crossing genres, and supporting each other in a drive to entertain audiences and have fun with playing music. Vince Gill, interviewed as he recorded a duet for Bromberg’s 2011 album Use Me, said of him “A Jewish man from the Northeast playing bluegrass would be a stretch, so to speak, but I learned that it wasn’t.” These are artists who are true to what they do, and it is more satisfying to hear that than artists who claim to be about the music, but are more attracted to celebrity or excessive rock star lives.

In 1980, after ten years of touring and recording albums, Bromberg was burnt out.  Because he loved music so much, he wanted to preserve his sanity and stay focused at home. In an interview from that time, he said “Nobody ever holds a gun to your head and says ‘Go on the road.’ And I’d get to the point where I’d go, ‘Oh God, I hate it out here, I’m going crazy, this is awful.’” It was a healthy decision for Bromberg to leave, and he and his wife, singer/artist Nancy Josephson, raised their family in Wilmington, DE.

In 2002, Bromberg and Josephson opened a violin sales and repair shop, and it’s here where Bromberg’s expansive love for music is further developed and cherished. It is really wonderful to see Bromberg speak so knowledgably about the craft and history of violins, and beaming as he watches a customer play them beautifully. Bromberg owns the largest American violin collection in the world, and the shop is clearly is his safe place in the world. He says of it “I love my shop. I get up in the morning, go down to the shop, day after day. And the grind is difficult. And when I was touring, the grind was difficult.” It’s a good kind of grind, less taxing than when he toured for many years with little breaks. The shop is his other life, separate from his music career.

Bromberg has worked to revitalize Wilmington’s urban economic growth through the arts, being considered the “cultural ambassador.” According to city officials, he has been a major component to bring Wilmington back to its former glory. He and Josephson donated funds to rebuild the Queen Theatre, creating a beautiful space for the cultural arts, and he has made a performing comeback with friends like Dr. John and the late Levon Helm. He also performs regularly at the New World Café at the Queen Theater, in a weekly jam session with many other local musicians, continuing his tradition of simply enjoying music as a collaborative community.

David Bromberg: Unsung Treasure is a wonderful little film about how much fun music can be. I personally enjoyed it because my father is a major music aficionado, particularly 1970s rock bands who blended genres and worked together a lot, without too much ego getting in the way, and his record collection is of many well-known and obscure rock bands whose music had a richness and creativity that is hard to find today, but well worth it when you do.

Monday, June 11, 2012

The 2012 Korean American New York Film Festival


The Korean-American Film Festival New York had its fifth annual showcase of the best in Korean-American films at Anthology Film Archives from June 6-10, 2012. The film festival  celebrates the diversity of life amongst Korean people, whether it is young American kids, older generations, culture clashes, or simply films made by Korean-Americans starring non-Korean actors. I had fun attending the film last year, and wrote about it extensively, especially about a documentary centering on a brother-sister murderous pair, the ramifications of the 1992 L.A. riots on the Korean community, and the intensely personal stories of Korean comfort women during WWII. While I didn’t have the opportunity to attend many screenings, I am reporting on my favorite short films, and the documentary Dirty Hands: The Art and Crimes of David Choe, which I will report on next.


The Shorts Selection had many gems within its package. As I also work for Dance Films Association, as an archivist who assists in development and other administrative duties, and always am on the lookout for quality dance films, I chose to highlight Pyeunghun Baik's film I Am a Tree, a stunningly beautiful portrait of a tree spirit dancing out of trees cut down to be manufactured into objects, the spirit flowing away into the wind  for a new tree to inhabit.


Fractured, by Terry Sasaki (password Sasaki for the Vimeo link) explores the warmth and symbiotic relationship of a doctor and patient, healing one another, only to subvert the expectations in a shockingly sad way. If anyone has seen Shutter Island, they can imagine what happens next. I was completely stunned by the twist ending.


Korean School Rejects, by Peter Yun, was a lot of fun to watch. Two teenage boys learn Korean to pick up local girls, and a lot of mistranslations and awkwardness ensues. It was much lighter after the first couple of films, and was an innocent coming-of-age teen film, like a slice of life rather than teaching a larger life lesson.


Like Sugar on the Tip of My Lips, by Minji Kang, was very heartfelt and touching, exploring the co-dependent relationship between two sisters. Susi is blind, and has always relied on her older sister Laura's guidance and faith in her. Now Susi has her first date, and Laura must prepare a beauty ritual for her while learning to let her go in the world, as a young and mature woman. It had this delicacy to it that held me in suspension, imagining what it must feel like to be blind and have complete faith in another person that they are telling the truth.


Mountain of June, by Do-yeon kim, was a sweet animated film whose style was reminiscent of the 1982 animated short The Snowman, with breezy colors and the nostalgic happiness of old memories. A little boy and his father go hiking in the mountains, and they share food, breathe in the fresh air, greet fellow hikers, and just enjoy the tranquility of nature.










Play Things, by Mike Cook, had a deeper message, about how weapons are popularized as toys and breed violence, but I mostly enjoyed the heavy metal song by John Zorn that was choreographed to the rapid etchings of the Lego shapeshifting forms, and its opening unintelligible blather sounded a lot like the Tasmanian Devil


The Kook, by Gregory Mitnick and Nat Livingston Johnson, was chilling. More so because from the first frame on, I immediately recognized it as a film about the Heaven's Gate cult, who committed a mass suicide in 1997 because of a belief that they would transcend their Earthly bodies and live in space. The Kook borrows from that, with the cult members wearing sweatsuits, bright white sneakers, and a belief in an alien leader named Do that they will be on their journey soon. I was tense, wondering what the filmmakers would do with this real-life story. They crafted it into a wonderful science-fiction short about a cult member who uncovers something fishy about Do, yet is still  brainwashed enough to think it couldn't possibly be anything other than what she trusts to be real. The film doesn't insult the intelligence of cult members, as the members are, while naive, truly innocent people who want to believe in a higher power. The film has won awards at many film festivals across the country, and recently ran at Slamdance. Though I felt nervous watching the film, it was absolutely excellent, one of the best of the evening.


The Problem of Gravity, by Trevor Zhou, was very sweet and playful. Plain and simple: a little boy is fascinated by flight, and he uses his creativity, research, and imagination to make himself fly for real.


Friday, January 13, 2012

“The Interrupters” Wins Big at Cinema Eye Honors

| January 12, 2012 | 0 Comments

Steve James and Alex Kotlowitz's "The Interrupters"

The 5th Annual Cinema Eye Honors, a celebration of the best in documentary film, was held last night at the Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, Queens. The ceremony was relaxed and fun, more a coming together of great artists in the documentary field than a narrow competition for awards. Hosted by filmmakers A.J. Schnack (“Kurt Cobain About a Son”) and Esther Robinson (“A Walk Into the Sea: Danny Williams and the Warhol Factory”), the ceremony handed out awards but also paid tribute to landmark filmmakers such as Frederick Wiseman, for his 1967 film “Titicut Follies,” and the duo of Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, for their “Paradise Lost” trilogy and the landmark efforts in justice that it helped to bring about.

Both of the top prizes, Outstanding Achievement in Direction and Outstanding Achievement in Nonfiction Feature Filmmaking, went to Steve James and Alex Kotlowitz’s “The Interrupters.” A film that has appeared on many film critics’ “best of 2011″ lists, it is a gripping look at three community activists known as Violence Interrupters who work to end street violence in their Chicago neighborhoods.

The first ever Hell Yeah award was given to Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky, most notably because the human rights advocacy sparked by their “Paradise Lost” films led to three innocent men–the West Memphis Three–being released after serving years in prison for the deaths of three children. The surprise presenter was one of those men, Jason Baldwin, who had a casual warmth and a relaxed, open smile. For somebody who had spent many years behind bars for a crime that he did not commit, he did not show any resentment, just a desire to enjoy life and see the world. Baldwin made a poignant statement that when he was released from prison, he enjoyed getting to know Berlinger and Sinofsky as real people, meeting their families, no longer being filmmaker and subject, but now equal friends. “The Paradise Lost” films were noted by the filmmakers as an example of documentary filmmaking making a real difference.

Some winners were predictable in an understandable way. For Nonfiction Short Filmmaking, the award went to Tim Hetherington’s “Diary.” A noted photojournalist, Hetherington was killed in the Libyan conflict in April. His mother accepted on his behalf.

Mike Mills’s “Beginners” won for the Heterodox Award, which recognizes a narrative film that is influenced by documentary filmmaking styles. Of the five nominees, it was the only relatively mainstream film, compared to smaller films like “My Joy” and “The Mill and the Cross.”

Frederick Wiseman's "Titicut Follies," 1967

Frederick Wiseman was presented with the Legacy Award for “Titicut Follies,” a look at the harsh life inside a state prison in Massachusetts. Wiseman’s film oeuvre has spanned the range from ballet to boxing to the Air Force to state politics. The award was created to honor past documentaries that were landmark influences for many future filmmakers, fulfilling an achievement in artistry and nonfiction storytelling. Wiseman spoke eloquently, stating that “Making these movies is a great adventure. I’m extremely pleased and proud to have this award for this first film I did.”

A small moment that was a personal standout occurred when Cindy Meehl and her crew won the Audience Choice Prize for “Buck,” a documentary about a cowboy and his deep relationship with horses. “It takes a lot of women to make a film about a cowboy,” commented one of the filmmakers.

The other winners were as follows:

Outstanding Achievement in Production:

Gian-Piero Ringel and Wim Wenders, “Pina”

Outstanding Achievement in Editing

Gregers Sall and Chris King, “Senna”

Outstanding Achievement in Cinematography

Danfung Dennis, “Hell and Back Again”

Spotlight Award

Tatiana Huezo Sánchez, “The Tiniest Place”

Outstanding Achievement in an Original Music Score

John Kusiak, “Tabloid”

Outstanding Achievement in Graphic Design and Animation

Rob Feng and Jeremy Landman, “Tabloid”

Outstanding Achievement in a Debut Feature Film

Clio Barnard, “The Arbor”


This coverage was originally posted on Cinespect.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Highlights from 2011 DOC NYC

“Girl with Black Balloons” – (Corinne van der Borch; U.S.A. and The Netherlands)
(screened with the short film ‘The Party in Taylor Mead’s Kitchen’)
“Girl with Black Balloons” bears some similarity to a documentary that showed at DOC NYC last year called “Lost Bohemia,” about the renovations to Carnegie Hall that involved kicking out residents in apartments and studios, mainly of whom were artists in their sixties and above. The artists were elderly, had dedicated their lives to the arts, and had great stories to tell, yet were absolutely destitute without anywhere else to go. “Girl with Black Balloons” tells the story of an artist named Bettina, a resident of the Chelsea Hotel since the 1960s. She has spent her life dedicated to her artwork, anonymous save for one public showing in 1980, and knows that the drive to create is unstoppable. Unfortunately, the Chelsea Hotel is being closed for renovation, and evicting many residents, much like Carnegie Hall did. Filmmaker Corinne van der Borch brings Bettina’s story to the screen, painting her with a warm and touching sensitivity to an unknown and semi-reclusive artist.
Van der Borch met Bettina by chance in the hotel, being invited into her apartment, which was barely livable. Bettina’s myriad of artwork was packed into boxes, but crowded all over the apartment, leaving only narrow walkways and spare room for guests. Bettina, from the outside would appear as an eccentric bag lady, an elderly woman with overdone makeup, a cobalt-blue wig, and getting around Manhattan on a scooter with a few black balloons tied to it. But behind her unusual appearance is a very intelligent, funny, and astute woman, devoid of any pretension. Bettina had been a very mysterious beauty in her youth, valuing her independence in traveling the world and being an artist, either by photographing people, painting Rorschach-like figures, or creating posters listing words that sound similar, like “constitution, retribution, institution, convolution,” etc. Bettina had given up a lot for her solitary life as an artist, with very little contact with friends and family, but still maintained that her work is her life.
Slowly gaining trust with van der Borch, Bettina lets her guard down, showing more of her art and smiling at ease, letting the outside world into her home. She expresses some regret over losing relationships over favoring her work, but knew that she was never cut out for a domestic way of life. She states that she never wanted children, and never married because the men would then expect a child. There is curiosity about her family, who Bettina is estranged from, and who obviously did not participate in the documentary.
While people may romanticize about brilliant artists who had mental illnesses or debilitating social phobia, Bettina does not strike as being neither mentally ill nor socially incapable of making friends. She had invited van der Borch into her life with a camera, and is not only friends with her, but is friends with a filmmaker/artist named Sam, who is her neighbor in the hotel. He is currently making his own film about her, and is inspired by her as a muse.
While watching the film, there was some concern that Sam and van der Borch were using Bettina for their own creative gain. An eccentric elderly woman who lived as a recluse with no close family or friends, who looked odd on the outside, and spoke with frankness and honesty. It seemed as if she was ripe for a filmmaker’s documentary, as if she was something of fascination for artists to make money off of. But as the film progressed, those notions went away, as both Sam and van der Borch were truly involved in Bettina’s life and well-being. In a scene where Sam and his friends are cleaning up Bettina’s apartment to make it more livable, Sam is clearly annoyed at van der Borch’s filming of the clean-up, essentially telling her that this was not a show, and if she wasn’t going to help clean up, she had to leave. Van der Borch gets the message, and leaves her camera rolling in a stationery spot as she pitches in. It quickly showed how special Bettina was, and how filming her was not for exploitation or amusement.
Van der Borch spent two years with Bettina, filming her life, and Bettina is a dazzling star of the film, with her high cheekbones, deep eyes, and knowing looks. The final scenes of the film, showing Bettina using a handheld camera to film passing ships at a harbor, reveals a once isolated woman opening herself up to the world beyond the four walls of her studio, accepting relationships without a fear that her independence will be taken away.
“The Island President” – (Jon Shenk; U.S.A.)
Whenever the world has heard about the threats of climate change, and seen the effects of it with this year’s cataclysmic earthquakes, hurricanes, tsunamis, and floods, it is often written off as just nature, to assuage people’s fears of rising sea levels that would swallow up land. But climate change is not happening in the future, it is happening right now, as evidence of the Maldives islands in danger of becoming a real-life Atlantis. In “The Island President,” documentary filmmaker Jon Shenk (“Lost Boys of Sudan”) profiles the charismatic and courageous president of the lowest-lying country in the world, President Mohamed Nasheed. In a lifetime spent fighting the oppression of the dictatorial president Maumoon Abdul Gayoom through protests and imprisonment, he faces a greater challenge than ever before – the sea levels of the Indian Ocean rising and submerging all 1200 islands of the Maldives.
The Maldives, to the world’s view, is seen as a tropical paradise, where British rock stars go to hang back on beaches shaded by palm trees, where divers go deep amongst brightly colored fish traveling in schools, and where life is at a peaceful standstill. The overhead shots captured by Shenk show the country as a gorgeous series of islands, surrounded by rich blue/green coral reefs, a stunningly beautiful arrangement of an island dream.
But that tourist fantasy masks the reality of the turmoil and hell that the country went through for thirty years. The country had liberated themselves from British rule in 1965. Their first president, Ibrahim Nasir, served from 1968-1978, and is credited with making the country viable for tourism, improving the economy, and modernizing the fishing industry, which provides a major source of income for the Maldives today. President Gayoom instilled a regime that eliminated all history of previous rule, insisting that schools only teach about him and nobody else. His administration imposed terror against anyone who disagreed with his rule, throwing people in prison or having them die of “natural causes” while their bodies show severe beatings. Nasheed was one of these prisoners, held in solitary confinement once for 18 months, surviving through his sheer willpower.
After thirty years of this hell, and the public made aware of the fatal beatings, a democracy movement was formed, with Nasheed at the head of it. Nasheed, despite all of the torture and pain he has gone through and witnessed, appears as a very likable and optimistic man, somebody who truly believes in his people and will not stop to bring them justice. Successfully, Nasheed won the people’s vote and became president in 2008. But while that ended Gayoom’s reign of terror, the difficulties in Nasheed’s term had only just begun.
The symptoms of climate change plays out like an omen of things to come. Fishing has been extremely low, fishermen only bringing in less than a quarter of their usual catch. Deep erosion has wiped away shorelines, revealing rocks that would normally lie beneath the surface. In one scene, Nasheed’s deputy undersecretary, Aminath Shauna, is telling her family about work, and they are light with her, asking her to “save them” so they don’t get “swallowed up.” They are both joking and serious, and it is a strange feeling to have, watching people who know that they may lose their lives to the ocean, but are trying to maintain a sense of humor about it to deal with the inevitability.
“The Island President” follows Nasheed through his first year in office, trying desperately to grab the world’s attention about the threat to his country while knowing that he is up against superpowers like India, China, and the U.S., who have their own interests at hand. Shenk’s crew have unfiltered access, sitting in on private meetings that would normally be classified, showing that behind his genial charm, Nasheed is very shrewd and dead-set on getting media attention, by any means necessary. He even stages a media stunt of an underwater cabinet meeting to make his point. The film culminates with the Copenhagen Climate Summit, where Nasheed and his dedicated staff hope to gain support from major developed countries to reverse these changes to save the world. Nasheed speaks with the kind of honesty and candor that many politicians would shy away from, like “”It won’t be any good to have a democracy if we don’t have a country.”
What is sad is that climate change is very real, and that in time, rising sea levels will not only engulf The Maldives, but will submerge coastal cities and lead to catastrophic terror and untold deaths of millions. It is a slow-moving threat, and even if it has already been noted in extreme weather, if these forces of nature happen far away, people assume that it can’t happen to them, that they are safe or protected by a rich government. Nobody is immune from these global changes.

“The Children Were Watching” & “The Chair” – (Richard Leacock; U.S.A.)
DOC NYC is celebrating the career of documentary filmmaker Richard Leacock (1921-2011), a filmmaker whose documentaries were a call for social activism in the name of human rights. His films, often so stark and revealing in people’s prejudices, ambiguities, and brutal honesty, would be prevented from being aired on television, too controversial at the time. Along with filmmakers D.A. Pennebaker and Robert Drew, they made films like”Primary,” about the 1960 Wisconsin Primary election between John F. Kennedy, Jr. and Hubert Humphrey for the Democratic Party’s nomination for President. Getting unprecedented access, using light cameras, and filming a la cinema verite, it was a breakthrough and innovation in the world of documentary filmmaking. Leacock’s career paved the way for many documentary filmmakers to film subjects with private access, capture candid moments, make social statements, and open audience’s eyes to worlds they never knew about before.
Two of his films that demonstrate that kind of candidness and brutal honesty were “The Chair” (1962), a feature about lawyer Louis Nizer’s fight to save his client Paul Crump from the electric chair, and “The Children Were Watching” (1960), a made-for-ABC-TV short about school integration in New Orleans. “The Chair” is gripping with courtroom drama and a sense of dread, while “The Children Were Watching” shakes audiences to the bones with the absolute hatred and steadfast prejudice spewed out of ordinary people due to social changes.
“The Children Were Watching” is right in the midst of the controversies that surrounded school integration at the time. In New Orleans, history is made when Ruby Bridges, a six-year-old girl, became the first African-American child to attend an all-white elementary school in the South. Mobs of white people who were pro-segregation gathered on her daily walks to and from school, yelling hateful epithets and threatening violence against this child, escorted by U.S. Marshalls to ensure her safety. The vitriol that came out of people’s mouths regarding African-Americans was absolutely horrendous. Talk of “these people,” that “they are trying to be white, and they’re not white,” and that they “have it good” only kept their perspectives narrow and close-minded. The sound quality of the 1960s audio made it a little difficult to understand people’s deafening yells, but the message was clear.
In retaliation, white parents pulled their children out of schools that supported integration, sending them to all-white schools that they had to be bussed into practically the next district. The narration was clearly in favor of integration, pointing out the benefits of integration would have children learn together as equals, and that the attitudes of these parents seeped into the minds of their children, infecting them with racism that they would carry on into adulthood. One man even stated that he thought school integration was a Communist plot, like an infection of American values of capitalism and freedom.
The mobs’ racism was not reserved only for African-Americans, but for white parents who supported integration and sent their children to schools with black students. The film focused particularly on the Gabriel family, a middle-class white family with six kids. Mrs. Gabriel escorted her daughter to and from school, nearly losing in amidst the mob that practically wanted to swallow them both up. But even when they got home safely, it wasn’t over. The mob continued yelling outside of her house, their roars nearly shaking the glass. The children inside, both watching from the window and being distracted with toys by their mother, were trapped, as if there were riots or a war going on outside. The mob was unrelenting, and their influence was close to destroying the lives of the family through social pressure and the high status that race plays in society.
The Chair was unusual in that it was not the case of an innocent man being on death row, as one might surmise from the description of a lawyer saving his client from the death penalty. Paul Crump was on death row for killing a security guard during an armed robbery of a meatpacking plant in 1953. Over the past several years, his lawyer, the famed Louis Nizer (clients included celebrities and journalists) gathered evidence that, while Crump was guilty, he showed that he could be rehabilitated into a civil, individual who showed contrition for his crime, and that killing him would only stop progress of successfully rehabilitating other prisoners to become law-abiding citizens. The film is a stirring drama of the uphill battle to convince a court that an admitted murderer can be reformed, especially playing into any racial politics at hand (Crump was African-American).
The film was a collaboration between Leacock, Drew, Pennebaker, and filmmaker Gregory Shuker, and their work as a team showed magnificently. Leacock’s depth of perspective was evident as he followed the prison warden through the long, winding hallways to the death chamber, where the electric chair waited for its next victim. The chair had a medieval appearance to it, with straps for the ankles, chest, and lap, and a screwed-on headpiece, as a true torture device for those both guilty and possibly innocent.
The hearing itself, while it mostly advocated for Crump to not receive the death penalty (with one or two prosecutors questioning if Crump was truly remorseful for his crime), brought the audience along with its suspense, dependent on the governor’s decision the day of Crump’s execution to save him or not. Even throughout the majority of the film, Crump is not seen, only spoken of by his defenders and reading a statement he made declaring that he has reformed for the greater good of humanity, while accepting whatever fate is bestowed upon him. Without knowing the ending, there is a fear that somebody would be executed, and Nizer would be shown sweating bullets in his office, staring at the telephone as if willing it for good news. The friendly and jovial relationship shown between him and his amiable secretary, who often eased his anxieties with good humor, were light and likable moments in the film.
Both films were landmark documentaries for their time, about the need for change in social issues regarding integration and the death penalty, and Leacock is to be remembered for his pioneer work not only as a documentary filmmaker, but as an advocate for social reform and positive change in the world.
“First Position” – (Bess Kargman; U.S.A.)
“First Position” takes the audience into the nerve-wracking world of ballet competitions, where a performance can make or break the path of a young dancer’s career. At the Youth America Grand Prix, ballet dancers aged 9-19, from all over the world, compete not only for medals, but for chances to be accepted at the world’s top ballet schools and companies. These dancers have been training their own lives, only focused on making a career as a successful dancer with an elite company. “First Position,” directed by Bess Kargman, centers on five young dancers, each with their own path and story of what dance means to them.
The children featured have very unique and interesting backgrounds. 11-yr old Aran, raised in a military family, continued his studies of ballet while living outside a U.S. military base in Naples. Michaela, 14, was an orphan from Sierra Leone who was adopted by an American couple, finding her talent in ballet. Rebecca, 17, is a bubbly teen girl who may come off as an average cheerleader type on the outside, but possesses unusual flexibility and a refreshing sense of humor about herself. Miko, 12, and Jules, 10, are brother and sister of mixed British/Japanese heritage, and Miko is even home-schooled so she can devote more time to her ballet training. And Joan Sebastian, 16, is a teenage boy from Colombia who is determined to make it big as a dancer so he can send money home to his family. All of these dancers possess both budding and extraordinary talent, with a preternatural maturity that is preparing them for careers as young adults in the unpredictable world of dance in a shaky economy.
One of the standouts was an 11-yr old Israeli girl named Gaya, who competes alongside Aran in the European finals of the Grand Prix. Her performance drew out a very dangerous and captivating energy, performed in a very mature and adult manner for a very young girl. This is not to say it was too mature for her; on the contrary, it showcased the intelligence and awareness that she possessed to be challenged by difficult material.
Of the dancers, Joan Sebastian was the most mature, simply because he was practically living on his own, far from his family. He left his small town in Colombia to pursue his ballet studies in NYC, living with his ballet instructor. At 16 years old, he is more of a man than a boy. He purchases calling cards to speak to his mother, who hopes that he isn’t eating too much fried food in America, and, while he is in a tough situation, doesn’t cry or get overwhelmed, composing himself with the kind of self-confidence that will serve him well in his career.
Ballet is a very expensive undertaking, and the families ranged from being well-off (enough to afford $80 pointe shoes or hand-made tutus) to very poor, relying on their child to find success in dance. For the mother of Miko and Jules, there was a sense that she had wanted to be a dancer herself or had been, and while Miko possessed the talent and drive, when Jules expresses doubts over dance, his mother is visibly upset, as if it was her dream to have successful ballet dancer children. The expenses are extremely great, and if the dancers don’t become successful, if it doesn’t “pay off,” then all the money would seem for nothing. Hence, the importance of gaining a scholarship to an elite school or a job with a respected ballet company.
Even when the stresses and difficulties of ballet are shown – Michaela’s tendonitis threatening her Grand Prix performance; the presence of injuries from overworking the body to do unnatural moves like overextending; and the sacrifices made to keep the ballet dream going– the subjects chosen are still healthy children graced with charm and poise who have important goals set ahead of them, while also still having fun with friends or other activities, not growing up too fast. The documentary leaves the audience wanting these children to succeed, and understanding the hard work and dedication that it takes to make these dreams come true.
This post originally appeared in Cinespect

A Selection of a Few Gems at Latin Beat 2011 in August

Latin Beat, the annual showcase of the most diverse range of films from Latin American countries, is in its twelfth year at The Film Society of Lincoln Center. This festival features films that challenge audience expectations and give examples of slice of life storytelling that make the festival a stylish and fresh addition to the many summer festivals offered in NYC.
Of the films offered at the festival, there are a few with significant buzz and critical acclaim that should be noted. The Chilean film “The Life of Fish,” directed by Matias Bise, is a sad and poignant drama centering on the handsome vagabond Andres (Santiago Cabrera), who has been out of the country for a decade covering the world’s cities and landmarks as a travel writer sent on location. He is preparing for another business trip, and spends one last night in Chile, revisiting past friends at a birthday party.
What was remarkable about the film was how much is revealed in such natural ease. The dialogue doesn’t hit audiences like clunky exposition, but rather unfolds slowly, be it with Andres’ friends’ jealousy over his glamorous life, the adolescent crush had on him by the sister of an old friend, the fascination by two young boys over his experience in drugs and sex, and finally, the painful revelations revealed by his former lover, Bea (Blanca Lewin), now in a domestic and stable life from when he knew her. The film has minimal music, and an atmospheric blue lighting that gives the film a feeling like wading through water, slow and steady and controlled.
“No Return,” an Argentine psychological thriller by Miguel Cohan, is tightly paced, but is frustrating due to the selfish actions of its teenage protagonist, Matias (Martin Stipak), and the consequences of his parents’ actions to protect him. Matias is introduced as an ordinary teen boy driving with his friend from a party, while Federico (Leonardo Sbaraglia), a roguishly handsome ventriloquist, is driving home to his wife and daughter. A double tragedy occurs that evening when a young male cyclist is run over twice by both men in the same night. Federico merely hits his bike and leaves after arguing with the cyclist, who is then immediately hit by Matias. Matias, in a panic, leaves the cyclist for dead and rushes home, telling his father a bogus story to avoid the reality of the hit and run. The cyclist dies, and, with Matias being protected by his parents, refuses to own up to the reality, leaving Federico to be wrongfully imprisoned.
The sight of seeing a sniveling teenage boy being coddled by his parents over fear of going to prison was absolutely disgusting, and the story in the second act follows the retribution planned by Federico upon his release from prison. The film takes on a more dangerous atmosphere, as the warm and safe personality Federico had had has given away to a cold and calculating presence, a la a hardened criminal despite not having done anything to deserve that life.
“Long Distance,” a Cuban film directed by Esteban Insausti, is a drama centering on politics and fractured relationships. In 1994, Cuba experienced a mass exodus as Castro declared that the government would not stand in the way of those wanting to flee the island during their economic crisis. More than 35,000 people went to the United States in hopes of a better life, leaving friends and family behind. This film focuses on a young woman, who, on her 35th birthday, is struck with the emptiness that many of her friends are gone. She reminisces about her past friends, picturing them as attending a dinner party in her home, and the film tells their individual stories of pain and struggle, and it also uses documentary-like interviews with those who fled the country years before to escape poverty. The cinematography is stark and cold, reflected in the woman’s large apartment with minimalist art and spotlessly clean kitchen counters. The apartment is beautiful, but it feels like a tomb rather than a warm home.
“The Death of Pinochet,” directed by Bettina Perut & Ivan Osnovikoff, had the potential to be a thoughtful and objective documentary about the reactions to the death of the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet in 2006, such as the supporters who argued that he brought economic stability and prosperity to their country, or the protestors who said he only brought death and destruction for over thirty years. But while the documentary did capture the explosive energy in the streets following his death, and gave both sides equal attention, the choice to film the interviewees with close-ups of their mouths as they spoke was jarring and irritating to watch. It was difficult to stay interested with their mouths filling up the whole screen, instead of pulling back to film their faces in an ordinary way. The choice was garish and over the top, and was bothersome to watch while staying informed about the impact Pinochet’s death had on Chile and their future.
The festival has many more selections and offers, which runs through the 24th at the Walter Reade Theater at The Film Society of Lincoln Center. To see Latin American films from a wide range of countries and experiences, the festival is highly recommended to be seen.
This story originally appeared on Cinespect

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Guest Post: Interview with Sophia Takal - Writer/Director of Green by Melissa Silvestri


Actress/writer Sophia Takal’s directorial debut, Green, is a film that is both dark in its themes of jealousy, yet shines with a natural ease depicting the burgeoning friendship of two very different women. Green focuses on a young Brooklyn couple, Sebastian (Laurence Michael Levine) and Genevieve (Kate Lyn Sheil) who come out to a cabin in the woods where Sebastian is going to cover gardening and country life for his hipster blog, a city mouse meets the country sort of feel. Genevieve puts up with Sebastian’s pretentiousness because she doesn’t have a secure identity of her own, and it takes the friendship of Robin (Takal), a local woman, to bring out her confidence. But though Genevieve and Robin share an ease with one another, it slowly twists into a dark path in Genevieve’s mind, when she concocts cheating fantasy scenarios between Sebastian and Robin that threaten to destroy her relationships.

Green is slow-moving, and despite its dark moments, has a light and lush beauty to it, thanks to the gorgeous cinematography and long takes captured in wide camera angles, that really give the audience a chance to walk with the characters and understand them from the inside out. I spoke with Takal via phone, after Green had played at BAM’s BAMCinemaFest.

Women and Hollywood: : The title of the film has a double meaning, to both indicate nature and jealousy. How did you develop the story?

Sophia Takal: The story came up in an outline one night. I knew that I wanted to shoot with the other two actors (Sheil and Levine), and I had that house for location because it was my dad’s house. I wanted to explore jealousy, and the emotions that I’ve been going through my whole life, really intensely in the year before shooting Green. And the last movie I made, Gabi on the Roof in July, was all in New York City. I wanted to get out of New York and into nature; I thought that would be really nice. The plot itself just came out of nowhere. It was based on some themes that I had been sort of playing around with.

WaH: The cinematography was absolutely lush and gorgeous. How did you and Nandan Rao get together to collaborate?

ST: He had shot another film called Bummer Summer. Both Bummer Summer and Gabi on the Roof in July premiered at a festival in California called Cinequest, and we became friendly and stayed in touch. I love the way that it was shot. He’s really talented. And [I was using] the Canon 5D, and a lot of people said that it was hard to focus with. But I knew that Nandon knew the camera really well. But mainly he’s really talented, and more than being just a D.P. He was really patient with me because it was my first time directing, and he always knew what questions to ask to help me figure out what I was trying to get at. It was really helpful, because I don’t know if I’m the most articulate person, so anyone that can help me to get what I want, I really want around.

WaH: There were interesting camera perspectives where, during conversations between the two women, the camera was placed far back and stationary, and it was like listening in on private conversations. What was the thought behind that kind of staging?

ST: I really wanted to do as much in one shot of each scene as possible. I really didn’t want to cut a lot during the scenes. As they’re getting to know each other, the camera gets a little wider. But there’s a scene on the swings where Genevieve is upset, and they’re having their first real heart-to-heart, and the camera is closer in. But I feel like whenever there’s a cut in a movie, it gives the audience a millisecond to re-set and re-focus. I just wanted the audience to sit and have to watch everything as it was unfolding.

WaH: You reference back to older films where scenes were shot with fewer cuts and it allows the audience to take the film in more rather than be interrupted by jump cuts or stylish editing.

ST: I wanted the movie to be slow and meditative. I was really influenced by the Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu. He did a lot of static shots, where everything unfolds, and it’s all really naturalistic. Imagine mundane conversations, but there’s a lot going on underneath. I wanted to mirror that feeling.
Despite that there is a thread of jealousy in the film, the film’s strength comes from the relationship between Genevieve and Robin. Genevieve sees Robin as strange, but her lack of pretension is refreshing. The dialogue flows very naturally between them, that it almost felt improvised. What was it like developing those scenes?
Well, Kate and I are actually best friends in real life, so it was really easy to pretend to act like friends. We became friends while shooting Gabi. For me, I thought the most important relationship was the one between the women. Something about the supportiveness of females and friendship, and that Robin is giving Genevieve an opportunity to become more fully realized, not only defining herself by her man. It’s really important to me, because in my own experiences with women, I have a harder time trusting women and feeling comfortable, but I find that when I finally do break through, I can get a lot closer than I could with a man. So I wanted to look at that, I thought that was really important.

So even though there’s jealousy and the love triangle, the tragedy for me is the non-supportive nature of the two women. Genevieve turns so quickly against Robin, even though Robin hasn’t done anything, it’s all in [Genevieve’s] mind. But if women were more supportive of each other instead of viewing others as threats, maybe we could all feel stronger and undefeatable.

WaH: Genevieve really goes through an evolution in the film, as if nature is bringing out her primal side. How did you develop that character?

ST: I really wanted to start off with a character who doesn’t feel safe to show who she really is. And I feel like it’s rare to have a female protagonist whose identity is so unclear and unformed. But that was intentional, because I feel that Genevieve had defined herself by outside expectations. And that’s something that I’ve struggled with. Like, “who am I?” in relation to this person, vs. “who am I?” on my own. So I wanted to show her progress, and with the female friendship, show a potential way she could be. Like being comfortable in her own skin, comfortable to say what she does and doesn’t want, and comfortable in saying no to her boyfriend without being afraid that he’s going to leave her. That’s a really scary thing, I think. Forming an identity, and being comfortable enough to acknowledge who you really are, and get rid of all these poses of what you think you should be. So I think that she has the opportunity to grow, but because she’s not being supported [by Sebastian], she shrinks back to the way she was before. So that was the arc that I wanted to see with her character.

WaH: The music was very sparse, yet during Genevieve’s fantasy/jealousy scenes, it reminded me of 1970s horror films, most notably Carrie, due to Genevieve’s appearance. What kind of music was developed for those scenes?

ST: Ernesto Carcamo, who did the music score, is really talented. It sort of sounds like found objects, and he turns them into music. He can take the sound of a car driving and manipulate it to make it into a tone. Or people having sex, he can make it sound like a weird, ethereal instrument. He did a lot of stuff like that. I also wanted it also to be rooted in nature, like wind chimes and Native American instruments. He made it very other-worldly.

I wanted it to have the tone of a horror movie, because in those scenes Genevieve is becoming a monster, but I didn’t want it to be a horror movie. So I tried to have the music translate into what would sound like a horror movie. The horror of everyday, and the way that people are against each other, with psychological manipulations.

This post originally appeared in Women & Hollywood