DVD

Trigger

by Monika Bartyzel on August 25, 2011

This post comes courtesy of Monika Bartyzel, freelance writer and junkie of Canadian cinema, frequently seen at Movies.com and previously sites such as Cinematical and Moviefone.ca. I’m hoping to convince her to contribute more of her insightful writing in the future.

Trigger (Director: Bruce McDonald): Trigger is a love letter – a love letter to Toronto, to growing old, to memories, to music, and – most importantly – to the late Tracy Wright. It’s a film with dual meanings – the story as it lives out in the film, and the real world in subtext. Luckily, it’s not one where reality trumps fiction or fiction obscures reality. Instead, coincidental circumstance merges both in a way that works beautifully as a tale of weathered friendship as well as a showcase for the many talents of Wright.

For the uninitiated: In 2008, Canadian filmmaker Bruce McDonald re-watched My Dinner with Andre, and was itching to do a barebones piece using the same discussion-over-dinner style. He lured scribe Daniel MacIvor with the idea, who in turn convinced the filmmaker that it should break out of one location and become the story of two men out in Toronto. It became two women, Tracy Wright was invited to participate, and when she learned that she had six months to live, the film was fast-tracked and shot with astonishing indie speed, becoming one of her last films.

The world of Trigger is simple. Two women (Wright’s Vic and Molly Parker’s Kat), who haven’t seen each other for years, meet for dinner. Vic is the aging rocker who has kept the bare-bones lifestyle, and struggles to balance her own cynicism with her quest for spiritual relief. Kat is the rocker-gone-mainstream-success, the woman who puts on a show but yearns for the honesty of her previous life. Within moments, their inner dams are broken and skeletons start climbing out of their psyches – addiction, pain, betrayal, feelings of uselessness… Each woman is the knowing face of the other’s past, both the only person who can really understand them and the exact person who is too dangerous to see. It’s impossible for either to maintain false civility as their inner demons are released, teasing both danger and catharsis.

The Andre-ish start quickly bubbles into a Before Sunset structure as the women step outside and traverse the city over the course of one night. Each locale – restaurant, home, club – seems to bring out a new revelation, many of which have an eerie similarity to Wright’s real world outside of the film. (A similarity that MacIvor assures is a coincidence.) The pair discuss addiction, friendship, families, work, life, mortality, and all of the minutiae and drama that clutch onto our lives.

These moments seems incredibly intimate to real life while also being perfectly contained in the film, existing as a natural form of method acting rather than moments where real life rips attention away from the fictional film. They are much like the scenes in Before Sunset when Ethan Hawke’s Jesse talks about his marital discontent, soon after his own real-life marriage dissolved. While the stories aren’t the same, the emotional truth is, and unleashing just that little amount of real-life pain gives the fictional journey all the more weight – the presence of real, never-to-be-released tears trumping carefully planned crying. In fact, that slight blending of fiction and reality allow us to feel the wall the actresses built between themselves and the material, which in the context of Trigger, feels like the characters’ own safety mechanisms.

Bruce McDonald’s straightforward filmmaking is an apt companion to their interpersonal exploration. There are no stunning visuals or slick camerawork to make this feel like a big production. The camera just lurks, almost voyeuristically capturing the experience, and rather than controlling our attention, it’s all up to the actresses – particularly Wright. When the cinematic moments are closest to real life and Wright speaks, the camera is content to stay on her, lovingly but also quietly mesmerized, just like those times when we get so caught up in a moment or piece of beauty that the rest of the world, the screen, or the film fades away. Instead of a slick package dictating our reaction with angles, light, and swelling music, it’s up to Wright and Parker to make us feel, which makes each moment that much more real – there’s little between the performance and the audience.

It helps that everything seems to be a reflection of the other. There is Vic and Tracy Wright – two separate stories that coincidentally come together into a whole, and the glue is the time and place – Toronto. Each location reflects an aspect of the story, from the crispness of a classy restaurant reflecting the initial false civility of the affair, to a school emphasizing the fact that you can long for the past, though your current self can never fit into it. Wright was an important piece of the indie film and theatre scene in the city, and Trigger manages to express her moments in time as well as her talents – not the glitz and glam but the hands-on, dirty, creative energy.

Each piece intermingles with the rest and continues to flow back and forth between all these aspects in a way that could only work as well in that time, place, and circumstance. When Vic says “I don’t care about the destination; I’m more concerned about the velocity,” it speaks as much to real life as it does to the plot’s experience and the nature of nostalgia in both the city and beyond. It speaks to growing old, to struggling to find a place, to settling, to convincing yourself that the false is good, to trying to find faith, and most certainly to let an actress thrive in a role she wasn’t usually awarded, while giving her a vehicle to express some of her final moments in time.

As a DVD treatment, however, one can’t help but wonder (or hope) if this release is the placeholder before a special edition. The film is packaged with two all-too-brief “extras” – a few short clips of the table read the actors did before the film, and a trailer for TO in 24, the latter of which isn’t clearly explained to be a trailer (it’s titled “One Breath”), and seems like a random short film slapped on to fill space.

Obviously, this film is minimalist and there likely wasn’t the budget for special features like a making-of, a retrospective of Wright’s work, a look at the Toronto musical talent featured in the film, or other highly produced goodies. That said, there are a myriad of options that could have bolstered the release that would have taken much less effort – a brief blip from the filmmakers/collaborators about Wright, her filmography and biography, the TIFF Q&A’s, or even Don McKellar’s letter to friends upon her death, which was subsequently published for the fans who mourned her. As a production that came together in a shockingly brief amount of time, Trigger is at least begging for a commentary or two, to talk about how all of this came together, and how they pulled it off so fast and so well.

Perhaps in the future. For now, however, I urge you to watch the film, and use the links below as your special features.

eOne released Trigger on DVD in Canada on July 26, 2011. Help support Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

Earlier Work:

The Letter Don McKellar Wrote to Friends After Her Death:

http://www2.macleans.ca/2010/07/08/thankful-to-the-very-end/

Q&A from TIFF 2010 Premiere

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ghznrbk_v_8&feature=player_embedded

Daniel MacIvor Writes about Tracy:

http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/tiff/tiffnews/article/857145–what-tracy-wright-left-behind

In Memoriam:

Notes on Her Memorial:

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/arts/theatre/nestruck-on-theatre/notes-from-a-memorial-for-tracy-wright/article1699971/

Tagged as: addiction, alcoholism, friendship, music

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Husbands

by James McNally on July 18, 2011

in Directors,DVD,Theatrical Release

Husbands screens tonight, Monday July 18, 2011 at 6:30pm, at the TIFF Bell Lightbox as part of the series Masks and Faces: The Films of John Cassavetes. The series runs from July 14–31.

Husbands (1970, Director: John Cassavetes): I’m not certain which of the films of John Cassavetes would be the best point of entry for a newcomer, but I don’t think I’d recommend Husbands, which was my own introduction. Considered the godfather of American independent cinema, Cassavetes worked as an actor and director on other people’s films in order to finance his own unique studies of ordinary people acting out. In Husbands, it’s about the mysteries of the middle-aged male psyche, and it’s one loud and crazy ride.

His previous film, Faces (1968) had been an unexpected hit, and so not only did he find someone to help finance the film (Italian producer Bino Cicogna, whom Cassavetes had met while working in Italy on Machine Gun McCain in 1969), but later on, he convinced Columbia to release the film theatrically. Nevertheless, Husbands was a commercial failure, despite some intense performances.

It’s essentially a three-hander. Harry (Ben Gazzara), Gus (John Cassavetes) and Archie (Peter Falk) attend the funeral of the fourth member of their group, and, trying to work through their grief, go on an epic bender, which lasts several days and takes them from New York to London.

Although the tagline is “A Comedy about Life, Death and Freedom,” there are only a few places where I laughed, and uncomfortably at that. Instead, Cassavetes’ examination of male friendship, grief, and midlife crises becomes more and more harrowing as it goes on. This bender is a descent into a sort of howling existential hell.

Not being familiar with the rest of Cassavetes’ work as a director, it was initially difficult for me to tell whether these emotionally-stunted, crass and abrasive characters are meant to evoke our sympathy or not. Their “charm” certainly becomes more transparent the more time we spend with them, and Cassavetes enjoys drawing scenes out to almost absurd lengths. An early scene of a drunken singalong in a bar must run at least 20 minutes, and by the end, with our trio bullying a woman into adding more “passion” to her performance, our opinion of these guys has certainly changed for the worse.

So it’s not a huge surprise when Harry comes home to change the next morning and ends up in a physical confrontation with both his wife and her mother. As the defacto leader of the trio, he’s the most aggressive. Before his ill-fated trip home, he’s told Gus and Archie, “Aside from sex, and she’s very good at it, I like you guys better.” He follows this up with a few repetitions of the phrase, “Let’s go home and get it over with.”

After his violent outburst, he grabs his passport and tells his friends that he needs to get away; otherwise, he’d just go back inside and apologize and he doesn’t want to do that. All these guys seem powerless when it comes to their wives and children and other responsibilities, but their “acting out” just seems to confirm their immaturity, despite the macho trappings.

Under the cover of concern for their friend, Archie and Gus decide to go with him, to “tuck him into the hotel and then come back home,” they assure each other. As soon as they arrive in England, they want to gamble, drink and pick up women, as if these activities are what bind men together. The only member of the trio who tries to communicate anything deeper is Archie, but poor old Peter Falk always seems to end up talking to himself. He’s the sort of actor who seems to end up doing that in almost everything he’s ever done.

There’s another long scene in London, where our three tough guys succeed in getting three attractive women back to their hotel rooms. Gus has picked up a woman who’s mentally unbalanced, and the other two appear to have hired prostitutes, but in any case, the following “seduction” scene is one of the most creepy and joyless I’ve seen in a long time. It is kind of funny to realize that the only people willing to spend time with these guys are either crazy or are being paid.

It’s a strange thing, though. Although I couldn’t wait for the film to end, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for days. These loud brutes, “drama kings” if I can coin a phrase, are trapped not only in their jobs and marriages, but in their conception of what being a man is all about. Their attempts to connect with each other, to grieve their friend and their passing youth, all end in shouting and violence. Their rage is inarticulate but exposes something, except they don’t have the vocabulary to express this vulnerability. Perhaps I’m reading more into the film, but I want to give Cassavetes credit for forcing the audience to spend two and a half hours in the presence of such unreconstructed brutes. Their humanity comes out not in what they say but in what they’re unable to say. This is no comedy. It’s a tragedy.

Tagged as: cassavetes, independent, lightbox, malebonding

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Il Posto

by James McNally on July 11, 2011

in DVD,Theatrical Release

Il Posto screens on Friday August 5 at 6:30pm at TIFF Bell Lightbox as part of the series Days of Glory: Masterworks of Italian Neorealism. Before the screening, film scholar Frank Burke will present an introduction to the Italian Neorealist movement. The series runs from July 28-August 28, 2011.

Il Posto (Director: Ermanno Olmi): Sadly, what makes this late gem of the Italian Neorealist movement so relevant to contemporary audiences is the fact that office work has changed so little in the 50 years since it was made. You will nod, smirk and wince in recognition at almost every step in young Domenico’s initiation into the world of work.

We first meet our protagonist (played with appropriately wide-eyed apprehension by nonprofessional Sandro Panseri) trying to squeeze in just a few more minutes of sleep before he has to ride the train from his outlying suburb into Milan to take a series of tests for an entry-level clerk’s job at a big company. Money is tight, as evidenced by the presence of his bed in the kitchen of the family’s crowded apartment. We learn that due to financial pressures, he’s had to abandon his studies early and his parents are eager for him to land a “secure job for life” with this unnamed firm. Although he seems like a bit of a dreamer, he’s an obedient son who doesn’t question this unwanted detour in his life. If anything, he seems happy to be able to escape the crushing boredom of home life, and the oppressive influence of his parents.

During the day of tests, he strikes up a friendship with the prospect of romance with the cherubic Antonietta (played by 15-year-old Loradana Detto, who went on to become the director’s wife), who’s applying for a typist’s job. During their lunch break, they window shop and enjoy the small luxury of a cup of coffee, discussing what they’ll be able to do with their paychecks should they be hired.

When he gets the job, Domenico is thrilled at the prospect of seeing the lovely Antonietta every day and continuing the courtship, but as fate would have it, he’s assigned to another building and another lunch shift, and their paths rarely seem to cross. Instead of the clerical job he was expecting, he’s assigned to a position as a messenger, with the promise that he’ll be reassigned as soon as a clerk’s job becomes available. As he gets to know the routines of the office and the rituals of working life, the film pulls back to show us brief glimpses into the lives of some of the other employees, including the clerks Domenico is destined to work alongside for the rest of his career. Humane and heartbreaking, these side narratives add weight to the story, driving home the point that life for these office drones is elsewhere. One man, mocked as “Sleepyhead” by the other clerks, is a struggling writer, endangering his eyesight by writing deep into the night. Another is a talented tenor who insists on singing arias whenever he’s with friends. We see the financial struggles of another clerk, and her problems with her children.

A central scene takes place at a New Year’s party at the employee social club. Domenico has shown up hoping to see Antonietta but finds himself sitting alone. After an older couple invite him to sit with them, he’s gradually caught up into the forced merriment whipped up by the hired band, and the impression is of people thrown together, with nothing in common except their place of employment, but trying desperately to make the best of it. If you’ve ever been to a company party, you’ll ache with recognition and sympathy.

When a vacancy finally allows Domenico to assume the clerk’s position he thinks he wants, it’s actually a moment of terrible sadness and resignation, and it doesn’t take him long to recognize the atmosphere of despair that he’ll be living in for the rest of his working life. It’s a terrifying moment and the film leaves it hanging in the air like an acrid smell.

Olmi’s film is deeply humane and there are no real villains. At worst, the bosses are indifferent. But it’s clear that the workplace crushes the humanity out of its victims. The gleaming modern offices of the 1960s (or the 2010s) are really no different than the factories of the previous century, reducing their human workers to functionaries who will struggle to retain their humanity outside of office hours. This Kafkaesque world of rules and hierarchies has been mined for laughs recently by films like Mike Judge’s Office Space, but Olmi’s depiction of a young man being led like a lamb to the slaughter will simply break your heart, even if you might be weeping as much for yourself as for the young innocent on the screen.

Tagged as: criterion, italy, lightbox, neorealism

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Room in Rome

by James McNally on March 21, 2011 · 3 comments

in DVD

eOne released Room in Rome on DVD in Canada on March 1, 2011. Help support Toronto Screen Shots by buying it on Amazon.ca.

Room in Rome (Director: Julio Medem): My disillusionment with the work of Julio Medem continues. After one great film (1998’s Lovers of the Arctic Circle), I’ve found the rest of his work creepy and self-indulgent. His last film, 2007’s Chaotic Ana (review) infuriated me, but when I saw the synopsis for Room in Rome, I thought he might be able to deliver a simpler, more character-based story.

Alba (Elena Anaya) and Natasha (Natasha Yarovenko) meet while drinking at a bar in Rome and Alba invites Natasha back to her room after what we assume to be a mutual attraction. Natasha claims never to have been with a woman before, and is reluctant to let herself be seduced by the more experienced Alba. But one thing leads to another and the two experience an intense one-night stand. So far so good. They’re both beautiful women and based on Medem’s previous work, there was bound to be an abundance of flesh on display. I was even prepared for a bit of talkiness in the service of character development. But true to Medem’s self-indulgent style, we get so much more than we can believe.

The women spend the first half of the night lying to each other about who they are. Spaniard Alba makes up a story about being spirited away with her mother by a Saudi prince to live in luxury, while Russian Natasha claims to be an actress. One of the things that annoyed me so much about Medem’s previous film was the constant desire to show off, manifested in lots of different locations around the world. In this film, we still get to travel around the world; only this time, bizarrely, it’s using Bing’s Virtual Earth software on Alba’s laptop. This gimmick is repeated so often that it becomes almost a Microsoft commercial.

The characters speak to each other in English despite the fact that we later find out they can both speak Italian and Spanish. This makes the dialogue sound even more ridiculous than it would in another language. When it turns out that Natasha has a twin, who’s a tennis player and who is actually an actress, it’s hard to tell where the tale-spinning will stop. Natasha confesses that her name is actually Dasha and that she is really just a lowly art historian. Coincidentally, Alba’s room is filled with Renaissance paintings that the two women can discuss when they’re not writhing around with each other. Alba’s real identity is even more ludicrous. She’s a mechanical engineer who’s invented a form of ecologically-friendly transport. When they both end up singing Volare in the shower, you might think it couldn’t get much sillier. And then it does, with Max the opera-singing room service waiter.

Medem is certainly an able filmmaker and even a capable stylist. But his films so often seem to be reaching for profundity and failing miserably. Ponderously paced, and with a repetitive and annoying soundtrack, Room in Rome is able to take all the fun out of what might have been a sexy premise. The characters feel fake, the romance feels fake, and like a one-night stand, the next morning leaves you feeling empty of anything except regret.

Tagged as: spain

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1234

by James McNally on February 19, 2011 · 1 comment

in DVD

1234 (Director: Giles Borg): Nerdy Stevie has been playing music with his pal Neil for years, but when they convince ambitious guitarist Billy and his pretty bassist friend Emily to form a band, they might just be onto something. Or maybe not. This affectionate portrait of a struggling indie band is mostly played for laughs with a bit of romance thrown in.

The division of the film into chapters named after songs, like tracks on a mixtape, is a bit precious, but it occasionally pays dividends, like when the filmmakers are able to license the track and use it in the scene. So we get a great Stooges riff (“I Wanna Be Your Dog”) followed by a nice Belle and Sebastian song (“My Wandering Days Are Over”). But it does create a bit of expectation that we’re going to hear each named track, and that became a small distraction for me.

The story arc and some of the characters are nothing new. Despite Stevie’s crush on Emily, she has a predictably horrible boyfriend. And Billy’s ambition is fuelled by the anger of a man long jobless, although it never really threatens to become anything other than annoying. The band starts out as fun, and when it becomes too serious, cracks emerge. It’s an old story. What lifts it are winning performances, especially by Ian Bonar as the likeable Stevie and Lyndsey Marshal as Emily. There is a lovely chemistry between them, and if this sweet and slight film works better as a romance than as a rock epic, I don’t think anyone should mind. Particularly if you’re a Belle and Sebastian fan.

p.s. The best thing about this film might be my discovery of Comet Gain, a remarkable indie band formed in 1993 and featured in the trailer (from the 0:50 mark) and in a brief performance scene in the film.