March 2008

Ibid

by James McNally on March 15, 2008 · 1 comment

in Film Festivals,SXSW

Ibid

Ibid (2008, Director: Russell Friedenberg): Billed as a sort of road movie about two escaped mental patients on a quest from God to write “new com­mand­ments” before the world ends, Ibid is actu­ally a mess of styles and tech­niques that thinks it’s being clever. As a first fea­ture, the film could be for­given for the bor­row­ings from other dir­ectors and other dec­ades. But when it becomes self-referential (are the two escapees simply acting in a play?), it loses any nar­rative thread com­pletely and we end up lit­er­ally wan­dering in the desert with a cast of crazy people.

Ibid reminded me quite a bit of Roger Corman’s Gas-s-s-s! (review), only more pre­ten­tious and mys­ti­fying. I saw this with two friends and all three of us fell asleep for at least part of the film.

Official site for the film

5/10(5/10)

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Joy Division

Joy Division (2007, Director: Grant Gee): I wanted to catch this back at TIFF in September, but saw Anton Corbijn’s Control (review) instead. The two films essen­tially com­plete each other, and seeing this after Corbijn’s dra­matic film made me appre­ciate how closely that film hewed to the facts. And seeing footage of Ian Curtis per­forming made Sam Riley’s per­form­ance that much more eerily com­pel­ling in retrospect.

Gee fash­ions his film around the image of the chan­ging city of Manchester. He points out expli­citly how many of the land­marks in the life of the band no longer exist. Sadly, this also applies to the people them­selves. Manager Rob Gretton and engineer Martin Hannett are no longer with us, nor is radio DJ and sup­porter John Peel. Most poignantly, Tony Wilson, who appears in the film, died in August 2007. The images of trans­form­a­tion describe the career of Joy Division espe­cially well; after the sui­cide of Ian Curtis, the three remaining mem­bers decided to change their name to New Order and keep going. Just as Manchester rose from the rubble of its indus­trial past, New Order became one of the most suc­cessful British groups of the 80s and 90s. It started so much more inauspiciously.

Inspired by the punk of the Sex Pistols, Joy Division (ori­gin­ally called Warsaw) formed in 1977 and quickly gelled around the mag­netic figure of Ian Curtis. The film brings together lots of old per­form­ance footage in addi­tion to inter­views with the sur­viving band mem­bers. Especially wel­come is the con­tri­bu­tion of Annik Honoré, Curtis’ Belgian girl­friend, who still seems deeply affected by his death. She is still incred­ibly beau­tiful and embodies the soph­ist­ic­a­tion that made some of the other band mem­bers a bit nervous.

Gee also spices up some audio-only inter­views with motion graphics and oth­er­wise mixes up his methods to keep the audi­ence inter­ested. It was under­stand­able but still dis­ap­pointing that Deborah Curtis’ (Ian’s widow) wasn’t fea­tured, though there were a few written quo­ta­tions fea­tured on-screen (from her bio­graphy Touching From A Distance, I assume).

It’s par­tic­u­larly fit­ting for me to be reviewing a film about a great band in the middle of a music fest­ival where more than 1,500 bands are playing in the space of a week. Among so many hard-working and tal­ented musi­cians, this film makes the achieve­ment of four working-class lads from Manchester that much more impressive. Gee’s film has given me a better appre­ci­ation of the band, and of Corbijn’s film in par­tic­ular. They should be sold as a set, I think.

Official site for the film

8/10(8/10)

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Medicine for Melancholy
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting my reviews of films screening at SXSW early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. Medicine for Melancholy is screening on Sunday March 9 at 2:30pm, Tuesday March 11 at 5:00pm and Wednesday March 12 at 2:30pm. All screen­ings are at the Alamo Ritz 2.

Medicine for Melancholy (2008, Director: Barry Jenkins): When gor­geous Jo (Tracey Heggins) and goofy Micah (Wyatt Cenac) wake up in the same bed after a party, she’s annoyed and embar­rassed. He’s curious, maybe a little infatu­ated. After a very awk­ward break­fast and a shared cab, they go their sep­arate ways. But Micah finds Jo’s purse in the cab and sets out to return it. Gradually, Jo thaws out and they decide to spend the day together. I haven’t yet men­tioned that both Jo and Micah are black, and maybe the only black people in their circle of indie hip­ster friends. Though it’s not explained, it might be the reason they ended up in bed after the drunken night before.

To Micah, being black in San Francisco mat­ters. A lot. He takes Jo to the Museum of the African Diaspora for a bit of black his­tory. Unfortunately, this is where Medicine for Melancholy begins to taste a little bit too much like medi­cine. Micah’s con­cerns revolve around the scarcity of black people in San Francisco, as well as the rapid gentri­fic­a­tion of neigh­bour­hoods, for­cing the poor and middle class out of the city to the East Bay. Not only does he talk about this a lot, we even get to eaves­drop on a meeting of a housing rights group, which made me feel like the dir­ector had slipped a doc­u­mentary short into the middle of the film.

As we follow the young couple around on the “day after” their one-night stand, we see that Micah is def­in­itely looking for more, while Jo seems con­tent to stay with her rich white boy­friend. The issues involved in their reasons were the most inter­esting part of the film. As Micah explains, black people make up only 7% of the pop­u­la­tion of San Francisco, and being into indie rock puts both of them into an even tinier group. For Micah, this means they should be together, while Jo reacts angrily to that assump­tion. By the end of the film, their rela­tion­ship is left unre­solved, but both of them are still thinking.

Medicine for Melancholy is beau­ti­fully shot in a desat­ur­ated colour palette, making it unique and even paint­erly to look at. Director Barry Jenkins also wrote the script, and worked with a tiny crew, but the res­ults on the screen are pol­ished in a way that few indie films I’ve seen can achieve. Bonus points for a great soundtrack that includes a couple of songs from Casiotone for the Painfully Alone.

The few false notes in Jo and Micah’s rela­tion­ship are prob­ably unavoid­able when working with such a tight time con­straint (the film covers just 24 hours). That being said, I wish the script had fol­lowed the “show, don’t tell” advice that my cre­ative writing teacher used to hammer into my head.

Official site for the film

7/10(7/10)

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Autism: The Musical

(Left to right: Neal, Adam, Lexi, Henry, Wyatt)

Editor’s Note: Doc Soup is a monthly doc­u­mentary screening pro­gramme run by the good folks at Hot Docs. It gives audi­ences in Toronto (and now Calgary and Vancouver!) their reg­ular doc fix each year from the fall through to the spring, leading up to the Hot Docs fest­ival itself.

Autism: The Musical (2007, Director: Tricia Regan): Winner of a slew of audi­ence awards at recent fest­ivals, Tricia Regan’s film sheds light on the mys­ter­ious world of the aut­istic child. Autism is now dia­gnosed in one child in every 150, and com­par­at­ively little research has been con­ducted into under­standing it. Serendipitously, there is an inter­esting art­icle in this month’s issue of Wired magazine, which pos­tu­lates that instead of treating it as a dis­ease to be cured, we should be trying to under­stand autism as just a dif­ferent type of thinking. This doc­u­mentary might actu­ally help that pro­cess. We meet five dif­ferent chil­dren, and their par­ents, who help us under­stand the chal­lenges, but also the poten­tial, of being aut­istic. At the centre of the film is Elaine Hall, mother of Neal and the cre­ator of The Miracle Project, an organ­iz­a­tion ded­ic­ated to arts edu­ca­tion for aut­istic kids. Elaine gathers a group of chil­dren each year with the goal of put­ting on a musical per­form­ance. She adopted her son Neal from Russia, and after he was dia­gnosed as aut­istic, her mar­riage broke up. Neal is per­haps the most affected by his con­di­tion, prone to tan­trums and unable to speak. But Elaine is ener­getic and pos­itive and at the first meeting, Regan’s camera pans around the room to encom­pass the curious kids, but more tellingly, the sus­pi­cious (and exhausted) faces of the parents.

The film fol­lows a fairly standard chro­no­lo­gical timeline, with titles informing us how close we are to opening night. Along the way, we take detours into each fea­tured child’s story, along with the story of their par­ents. I found each one incred­ibly moving, and was pleas­antly sur­prised at the com­plete trans­par­ency and gut-wrenching hon­esty of the par­ents. Lexi’s par­ents split up during the course of filming, and her mother’s bru­tally frank admis­sions broke my heart. And Adam’s par­ents, though still together, are having prob­lems that his father admits are partly a result of his wife’s “mono­mania” in caring for Adam. I think that these people have had their idea of a per­fect life turned so com­pletely upside down by their chil­dren that they have no masks any­more. It was refreshing and heart­breaking at the same time. As in Lexi’s mom’s wish that Lexi die before she does. With the dif­fi­culty of finding schools and care­givers who under­stand autism, it seemed a reas­on­able position.

From the chil­dren there are sev­eral amazing moments of clarity, but the most pier­cing came from Wyatt, who wondered why all the kids at the Miracle Project were in “their own little worlds” before admit­ting that he too spent too much time in his own world, mostly because with no one around to talk to, he became lonely in the real one.

The dir­ector admitted in her Q&A that she was brought in to direct by the mother of Henry, one of the fea­tured kids (and the only one to have Asperger’s Syndrome, a milder form of autism), who had envi­sioned making a film to reach out beyond the “autism com­munity” in order to help people under­stand and to do some­thing. Autism doesn’t attract the resources that child­hood dis­eases like dia­betes do, and dealing with it isn’t so straight­for­ward. Like the deaf com­munity, there is a growing “cul­ture of autism” (rep­res­ented by people like Amanda Baggs cited in the Wired art­icle) who don’t think autism is a dis­ease that needs a cure at all. On the other side are par­ents of chil­dren like the ones in this film, who just want some help. As the number of kids with autism grows, and they grow older and require more spe­cial­ized care, the edu­ca­tional system will need to adapt. And so will the cul­ture at large.

The finale is as big and emo­tional as we might expect. But since we’ve gotten to know the per­formers over the pre­vious hour, we know the show is not going to be flaw­less. Instead, the cre­ative anarchy that seems to be part and parcel of autism made the per­form­ance, and the entire film itself, that much more inspiring.

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Tricia Regan from after the screening (it gets louder after the first few seconds and then louder still at around the 0:40 mark, so don’t turn up your volume right away):

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Duration: 12:12

Official site of the film

Official site of The Miracle Project

9/10(9/10)

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We Are Wizards
Editor’s Note: I’ve decided to begin posting my reviews of films screening at SXSW early, hope­fully helping anyone attending make some decisions about what to see. We Are Wizards is screening on Saturday March 8 at 1:45pm in the Austin Convention Center. It also screens Tuesday March 11 at 11:00am and Friday March 14 at 1:45pm at the Paramount.

We Are Wizards (2008, Director: Josh Koury): I’ll have to start with some­what of a dis­claimer. I am not a wizard, by which I mean to say that I am not one of the obsessive fans of Harry Potter who inhabit this film. That being said, I was expecting some­thing a bit more wide-ranging from the descrip­tion of the film on the SXSW web site: “An enter­taining and com­pre­hensive por­trait of the pas­sionate cul­ture of Harry Potter fans.” Instead Josh Koury fol­lows a few of the odder fans of the books and films, with a spe­cial focus on bands inspired by the world of Harry and his friends. “Wizard rock” is an admit­tedly narrow sub­cul­ture, and most of these bands are simply not very good. Some, like the two brothers who make up Harry and the Potters, don’t seem to take them­selves too ser­i­ously, but many of the others seem a bit delu­sional. I found the Hungarian Horntails espe­cially worthy of a few wizard curses of my own. Consisting of 8-year-old Darious and his younger brother Holden, the band screech “punk” songs like “Which Witch is Which” and “Kill the Basilisk”. Though I’m delighted the boys have a cre­ative outlet, I found their par­ents’ adu­la­tion dis­turbing, and sus­pect that drag­ging their kids all over the country to play “wizard rock” seems tied in to ful­filling their own musical ambitions.

Another major sub­ject of the film is car­toonist Brad Neely, who gained notoriety by recording his own fan com­mentary for the first Harry Potter film. Unfortunately, he spoke it in a really annoying voice, which he also uses throughout the film. Yet another unsym­path­etic sub­ject is Carol Matriciana, a Christian woman who is opposed to the books and films because she believes they pro­mote witch­craft. But just like every one of the fans, she’s used Harry Potter to gain some atten­tion and to add some meaning to her life.

We Are Wizards

Perhaps the sanest of the fans fea­tured is Heather Lawver, who also hap­pens to be the sister of a friend of mine. Heather began a fan site while in her teens and promptly received a threat­ening letter from Warner Brothers, the studio behind the Harry Potter films. Undeterred, Heather started a grass­roots boy­cott of all Harry Potter mer­chandise except the books (her beef was with Warner Brothers, not J.K. Rowling). Through this pro­cess, she not only learned to express her­self cre­at­ively and con­nect to other fans, but she learned lots of legal stuff as well as the skills needed to be a polit­ical act­ivist. Bizarrely, though, the film­makers end Heather’s story by showing her looking at Ferraris and explaining that she’s not really into Harry Potter any­more, but wants to become a race car driver. I found that dir­ect­orial choice odd.

There are a few other “talking heads” in the film, including Henry Jenkins, Co-Director of the Comparative Media Studies Program at MIT, who will be a key­note speaker at this year’s SXSW Interactive con­fer­ence. Overall, though, this is not a standard talking head doc­u­mentary, but more of a film for fans by fans. I thought it a little too narrowly-focused and found far too many of the sub­jects unsym­path­etic, even annoying. But what do I know, right? I’m a Muggle.

Official site of the film

6/10(6/10)

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