The formula for a productive, engaging debate on the state of indie film? Take a festival founder and a controversial filmmaker, throw them in a boxing ring, and add a hundred or so hecklers and a lot of cheap booze. Also, a stars and stripes unitard wouldn’t hurt. And, voila — the circular indie film apocalypse conversation finally gets interesting.
On Monday evening, Fantastic Fest commandeered the South Austin Gym (conveniently located in the same mini-mall as the festival’s two key venues, the Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar and the new Highball, a former Salvation Army store converted into a bar/bowling alley/event venue by Alamo mastermind Tim League) to throw a throwdown featuring battles of both “body and spirit” between various friends of the festival. The basic format seemed to change with every bout, but the basic concept was simple: the opponents would first take the stage to debate a given topic ostensibly of interest to the Fantastic masses, and a winner for the brains portion of the battle would be declared via audience applause. Then, each debater would step out from behind their podium, install a mouth guard, and box two rounds so that a champion could be declared based on brawn (or, more likely, luck). The first three rounds, featuring an assortment of online critics and Austin favorites were well received, but the main event was worth waiting for: League, the co-founder and guiding spirit of Fantastic Fest, vs much-maligned filmmaker and experienced boxer Uwe Boll. The debate topic: Independent film is dying and/or dead.
The imbalance of the physical match between slight-of-stature League and trained killing machine Boll was its key selling point. The hypeman/ref ran down Boll’s list of qualifications: “He’s rumored to have a PhD in everything! It’s rumored that he’s the reason Germany reunited! He’s rumored to be making Miss Pacman this fall! He’s also trained as a fighter, which is more than I can say for his opponent!” The fight, it was said, “will later be known as The Timothy League Memorial Debate.”
At the Kansas City Star’s TV Barn blog, Aaron Barnhart examines MSNBC’s strategy of devoting as much as a third of their schedule to “documentary” programming. Barnhart takes issue with the channel’s use of the word “documentary” to encompass content as disparate as, on one hand, Witness to Jonestown (an original production of the newish MSNBC Films combining new interviews with ample footage from NBC’s archives) and Dear Zachary (which MSNBC Films acquired in partnership with Oscilloscope straight from the festival circuit); and on the other, the schlocky stuff that makes up the bulk of their “Doc Blocks,” like the Lockup series of Dateline-style exposes set inside various North American prisons, and the COPS knock-off Caught on Camera.
Amazingly, when Barnhart went to Michael Rubin, who programs all of this stuff for the network, and asked, “What’s the deal?” Rubin basically went on the defensive. Not only did he call Lockup specifically “a jewel,” but he insisted that MSNBC’s viewers make no distinctions between high-brow and low-blow non-fiction content. As he puts it:
The Toronto International Film Festival sent out an email this morning with 15 attachments, and although many of them represent lists of films on the 2008 lineup which have already been made public, it’s still a *bit* overwhelming to have it all land in an inbox at once. 312 films from 64 countries, including 249 features. Where to begin?
If you’d like to look at the full lineup, indieWIRE has that–and please, do look at it, and tell me what you think I should see/report back on. I’ve made some notes about films from this series of releases that I’m excited about––whether out of name brand obligation (the new Coen Brothers, for instance), word of mouth (such as a number of films I’ve missed at other festivals) or pure morbid curiosity (ie: the Paris Hilton documentary Paris, Not France), after the jump. All film descriptons courtesy of TIFF.
Joe Leydon points to the above promo widget for the Telluride Film Festival. If you’re going to Telluride, you’ll eventually be able to use the widget to customize your schedule. If you’re not going to Telluride––and, considering the geographic and financial inaccessibility of the Festival, which is incidentally one of my favorites, I assume that’s most of you––the widget is nonetheless surprisingly packed with interesting content.
There are videos from last year’s festival, including documentation of the tribute to Daniel Day-Lewis; there’s also a short on the festival’s 35 year history, featuring founding director Tom Luddy. You should be able to get your own widget by clicking the “customize and embed” code above. You’ll have to give your email address––be careful not to sign yourself up for Dell bacn.
I grew up in Los Angeles and have fractured but fierce memories of seeing movies in Westwood, the theater-packed micro-city surrounding UCLA, in which the Los Angeles Film Festival is now based. I think I saw Jurassic Park four times at the Avco. I know I saw my first Lubitsch movie (Design for Living) at UCLA. Yesterday I was standing in line at Rite Aid and had some kind of out-of-body flashback experience of getting ice cream at the same Rite Aid after my mother took me to a matinee of Flight of the Navigator. I’m sure people go to film festivals in their hometowns all the time and don’t think it’s weird at all, but I get painfully nostalgic. I, like, went to school and stuff, but hanging out in these theaters for entire summers is how I fell in love with movies.
Funny, then, that I’ve been here for almost two full days and I haven’t yet been able to see a single film. Part of this is a scheduling issue––I got in too late on Monday to make it to a screening, and I had already seen many of the films that played yesterday, including Medicine for Melancholy and The Pleasure of Being Robbed. I did actually try to make a screening of Largo, the documentary about the famed Fairfax club, but I, um, went to the wrong theater by mistake and missed it. And then, there were parties to go to. More on that, with photo evidence, after the jump.
In order to get to CineVegas after landing at McCarren Airport, you must first ride an escalator under Bette Midler’s legs. More images from the festival after the jump.
“The opening 20 minutes of Dai Nipponjin are the most boring 20 minutes in the history of cinema.” That’s Grady Hendrix, selling one of the films he’s selected for the New York Asian Film Festival (the final lineup was just released today), on this podcast at The House Next Door. If that doesn’t have you marking your calendars, allow Grady to continue:
The first 20 minutes are like, him shopping, him complaining about how his wife divorced him and how he hates his job and his government salary isn’t very good, and he’s just this idiot…and then they pump 50,000 amps through his nipples and he turns into this giant super hero in purple underwear and beats up monsters…This is like the porno version of Cloverfield. You find out what happens when giant monsters go into heat. Which isn’t pretty.
Just minutes ago I was trying to figure out where to stay in L.A. during the Los Angeles Film Festival, when an email floated through informing me that the fest’s full lineup has been posted at The Circuit. The Film Independent-backed event will open with the, um, less-than independent Angelina Jolie action film Wanted; it will close with Hellboy II. In between, Medicine for Melancholy and The Pleasure of Being Robbed are among the seven films in the Narrative competition; other notable titles on the schedule include Let the Right One In, Man on Wire, Momma’s Man, Encounters at the End of the World, and a film I’ve been dying to see, Roy Andersson’s You, The Living. See the full lineup here.
Liv Ullmann, the recipient of the Sarasota Film Festival’s 2008 Master of Cinema Award and the star or director of a dozen films on the Festival schedule, sat down with Sony Pictures Classics president Michael Barker last night for a chat before a packed and fawning crowd.
Dressed in a low-cut black pantsuit bracketed by diamond earrings and killer heels, quick with self-deprecating quips and eager to offer candid, perfectly paced anecdotes, her faded Noweigian accent occasionally taking on the lilting cadences of a woman a third her age (she’s a big fan of the word “whatever”), Ullmann came off as loquaciously eccentric and yet completely clear-eyed about past, present and future. Paying special attention to Ullmann’s triumphs with Ingmar Bergman and failures in 70s Hollywood, Barker and Ullmann traced the actress/directors career from the making of Persona to the psychic impulse that led her to visit Bergman on his death bed. Highlights after the jump.
I landed in Sarasota around 2:00 yesterday afternoon, and by the time I was standing in line for my first film an hour later, the sore throat I’d been carrying around for three weeks in New York since returning from SXSW had miraculously disappeared. It would be hard to overstate how magical this place feels in contrast to the cold, gray, post-global warming non-spring of New York City. It’s 80 degrees here and sunny; my hotel’s right on the beach. And I’m working. Feel free to hate me––I would.
One of the things I love about Harold & Kumar Go to White Castleis the way it treats its two stars, John Cho (as Harold, or “Rold”) and Kal Penn (as Kumar). The plot could have been played with any hot young dudes in Hollywood in the roles – you’d maybe expect two white guys, one with blonde hair, one with brown – but instead the characters are a Korean-American and an Indian-American. And it isn’t a big deal. Aside from a few derogatory, stereotypical comments made by unfavorable guys the duo meets on their adventure to find a White Castle, race isn’t an issue and doesn’t really come into play story wise.
However, the sequel, Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, turns the color of their skin into the impetus of the story, which revolves around them being mistaken for terrorists (“North Korea and Al-Qaeda working together”). Almost disguised as a smarter, more politically satirical follow-up, Guantanamo Bay, which was directed by Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, who wrote this movie and the original, is basically just an adaptation of a Truly Tasteless Jokes book — if every other page of that book were annotated with updates, apologies, corrections and clarifications. It’s a movie that wants to have its offensively stereotypical cake and eat it, too – using a kind of utensil we’re not accustomed to seeing used for such a meal. What I mean is that each joke is a play on a socially recognized stereotype. Easily stereotyped characters are set up as clichés (dumb white-trash hick from Alabama) only to be revealed as the opposite (he has a classy home with refined interior decorating and accoutrements), yet ultimately they’re also exposed as being a part of that stereotype (he’s married to his sister and they have an inbred cyclops child in the basement).
I’m typing this from Columbia, MO, where the True/False Film Festival is just getting underway. Shortly before I flew in yesterday, I found out that Christopher Bell’s surprisingly strong Sundance entry Bigger, Stronger, Faster had been added to the True/False program. Shortly after arriving, I found out that the film has been acquired by Magnolia, for theatrical distribution followed by broadcast on HDNet.
Bigger, which I saw at Sundance and reviewed here, has a real shot at Super Size Me-style success, although marketing is going to be key. Bell puts himself at the center as a character, but the film doesn’t feel self-indulgent at all––for a first-time filmmaker, he shows remarkable skill both as an interviewer and as a polemicist. In selling the film to audiences, I think it’s going to be key to showcase Bell as a personality, without undermining the fact that this a convincingly and seriously researched film.
Here are some quick reviews of two SDFF films that I watched via screeners before touching down in Denver, and the one film I managed to see in town before succumbing to jet lag/altitude exhaustion. Oddly and entirely accidentally, all three films have something to do with aging males and their identity crises.
A self-mocking psuedo-documentary from the mind of Dan Butler (a journeyman supporting actor best known for a recurring role on Frasier), Karl Rove, I Love You has far less to do with the titualar “ultimate supporting actor” than with the personal fallout of engagement in our super-polarized political culture. What begins as a documentary on Butler as the archetypical “invisible” character actor (he’s consistently compared to Philip Seymour Hoffman, only “less famous”) morphs into a document of Butler’s mid-life crisis passion project, a one man show designed to expose the world to the “Real” Karl Rove. Butler begins the project wanting to hit the Bush administration where it hurts, but slowly comes to empathise with Rove, turns his show into a mildly-satiric love-letter, and alienates his single-minded friends and collaborators in the process.
Not always laugh-out loud funny, but well-paced and consistently engaging, Karl Rove, I Love You uses the natural conflict between (pervasively and unquestioningly liberal, and largely openly gay) Hollywood and (socially conservative but morally ambiguous) Red State actors to explore how angry obsession can offer the same kind of madness, identity salvation and pure pleasure as romantic passion. But more interestingly, it’s also about breaking down a black-and-white cipher and finding a whole person. It always feels more like a sitcom than a credible documentary (and the last twenty minutes really push the limits of disbelief), but it’s just creepy enough to work.
I’m getting ready to fill out my first-ever application for Butt-Numb-a-Thon, Harry Knowles’ annual 24 hour, marathon film festival. My tastes do not always neatly dovetail with Knowles’, but for years, friends who have attended past BNATs have come back with rapturous reports. Another cause for excitement: this BNAT will be the first to take place at the new Alamo Ritz, which is replacing the old and much-beloved Alamo Drafthouse in downtown Austin.
Like a Telluride for genre geeks, the lineup is a total mystery before the festival begins, and lucky attendees must stay in their seats for the full 24 hours or risk missing something. About half the films are vintage and/or lost classics, the other half are (generally) Hollywood films that have yet to be released. Last year’s audience was privy to the premieres of Knocked Up, Black Snake Moan, Rocky Balboa, 300 and Dreamgirls, as well as screenings of The Informers, Inherit the Wind, and a “1976 X-rated animated” film called Once Upon A Girl, which caused my friend Jette Kernion to write, “Harry, I am sending you the bill for any psychotherapy I may need as a result of watching this thing.”
The application is rigorous: in addition to answering questions about Kurt Russell movies and “celebrity sexual fantasies” (presumably, they’re not one and the same), you’re instructed to upload “your favorite photo of you from a past Halloween Celebration or Costumed affair.” Out of thousands of applicants, Knowles hand-picks the couple of hundred eventual attendees. My chances of being deemed worthy of attendance are probably pretty slim, so cross your fingers for me, and if you want to apply, all the info is here.
We’ve had a bit of trouble getting this episode to go through the iTunes feed, so we hope this re-post will fix the problem. The original post, with episode description and embedded player, is here.
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At the Kansas City Star’s TV Barn blog, Aaron Barnhart examines MSNBC’s strategy of devoting as much as a third of their schedule to “documentary” programming. Barnhart takes issue with the channel’s use of the word “documentary” to encompass content as disparate as, on one hand, Witness to Jonestown (an original production of the newish MSNBC Films combining new interviews with ample footage from NBC’s archives) and Dear Zachary (which MSNBC Films acquired in partnership with Oscilloscope straight from the festival circuit); and on the other, the schlocky stuff that makes up the bulk of their “Doc Blocks,” like the Lockup series of Dateline-style exposes set inside various North American prisons, and the COPS knock-off Caught on Camera.
I grew up in Los Angeles and have fractured but fierce memories of seeing movies in Westwood, the theater-packed micro-city surrounding UCLA, in which the Los Angeles Film Festival is now based. I think I saw Jurassic Park four times at the Avco. I know I saw my first Lubitsch movie (Design for Living) at UCLA. Yesterday I was standing in line at Rite Aid and had some kind of out-of-body flashback experience of getting ice cream at the same Rite Aid after my mother took me to a matinee of 
indieWIRE has the full list
