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friendship

Humpday

by James McNally on July 17, 2009

in Theatrical Release

Humpday

Humpday (Director: Lynn Shelton): Two reviews in a row about films by women dir­ectors about the del­icate rela­tion­ships between men. But Humpday and The Hurt Locker (review) couldn’t be more dif­ferent. Where the latter rat­cheted up the ten­sion with action and explo­sions, Lynn Shelton’s film builds it with queasy laughter and an out­rageous game of chicken.

Ben (Mark Duplass) is a thirty-something trans­port­a­tion planner, hap­pily mar­ried to Anna (Alycia Delmore) and living in a nice house in Seattle. And then his old col­lege buddy Andrew (Joshua Leonard) arrives in the middle of the night, looking for a place to crash after returning from an artists’ colony in Mexico. It’s clear that the two have taken dif­ferent paths since col­lege, but Ben doesn’t like the feeling that he’s become a cliche, so he accom­panies his friend to a wild party at the home of a bisexual artist Andrew’s just met. After many sub­stances have been con­sumed, the talk turns to Humpfest, Seattle’s ama­teur porn contest.

In a moment of drunken one-up-manship, Ben sug­gests to Andrew that they should make a tape of the two of them having sex. It will be the greatest art pro­ject ever, he says, it will be “beyond gay.” Challenging his “artist” buddy to con­tribute to an art pro­ject is a sly form of dare, and Andrew can’t say no. Even in the sober light of day, the two of them can’t seem to back down. The best scenes are of Andrew trying to let Ben back out. “I know this scene isn’t really for you,” he says, which only gets Ben to dig in his heels.

Shelton has per­fectly cap­tured the com­pet­it­ive­ness of men, even modern sens­itive men. The subtle chem­istry between Ben and Andrew is a joy to watch, even at its most uncom­fort­able. Each man’s fears are driving this ridicu­lous battle of wills. Ben’s afraid he’s lost whatever edge he might have had in col­lege, and Andrew feels that his artist per­sona is really just a phony mask cov­ering up a much more reg­ular guy. The comedy is sharp, but for me it was the comedy of recognition.

It’s also bit­ter­sweet, as these two guys realize that their friend­ship, genuine as it is, has changed as their lives have changed. I hope this won’t spoil the ending, but the emo­tional release the two friends even­tu­ally achieve is more ful­filling than any “money shot” could ever be.

P.S. You might also enjoy Shelton’s last film, another smart explor­a­tion of male friend­ship called My Effortless Brilliance (review).

Official site of the film

8/10(8/10)

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Anvil! The Story of Anvil

Anvil! The Story of Anvil (2008, Director: Sacha Gervasi): I knew within the first five minutes of the film that I loved these guys, and it took about another five minutes for me to decide I was buying a CD from them (NOTE: Available from either of the two links below). That’s not an easy sell. You see, I grew up here in Toronto, Anvil’s hometown, during the 1980s, when the band had its closest brush with suc­cess. “Metal on Metal” was played on the radio here, and it’s quite pos­sible I watched some of the archival tele­vi­sion cov­erage (some of it fea­turing news anchor John Roberts, then known as J.D. Roberts) when it wasn’t archival. But I was no metal­head. I was into punk, and then new wave, and the metal “hair” bands of the 80s just seemed embar­rass­ingly uncool to me. In this film, that uncool­ness has been turned into charm. But it’s been a long hard road for Anvil.

Director Sacha Gervasi actu­ally met the band in London in 1982, and then decided to work as a roadie for them on a cross-Canada tour. He lost touch about 1985, and then, 20 years later, decided to look up his old friends on the internet. What he dis­covered amazed him. They hadn’t given up. In fact, they were still making records and playing bars, even if it was only to crowds of 100. Gervasi, mean­while, had trav­elled far from his metal roots. After attending law school, he got involved in the film busi­ness, recently writing the script for the Tom Hanks film The Terminal. He knew imme­di­ately he wanted to make a film about the band, and his per­sonal con­nec­tion with Anvil makes the film a loving tribute.

Steve “Lips” Kudlow and Robb Reiner were two Jewish kids growing up in Toronto in the 70s. They bonded over a love for the music of Black Sabbath and Grand Funk, and were soon writing songs together. More than 30 years and sev­eral lineup changes later, they’re still making music together. The film is as much a por­trait of a lifelong friend­ship as it is about the cruelty of the music busi­ness. Through all the ups and (mostly) downs, Lips and Robb are like brothers. Gervasi picks up the story around 2005 when gui­tarist Ivan’s new Italian girl­friend Tiziana offers to arrange a European tour for them. Her pas­sion over­comes their reser­va­tions about her inex­per­i­ence, with pre­dict­able res­ults. Transportation prob­lems abound, and the crowds are always smaller than anti­cip­ated. Local pro­mo­tion doesn’t come through, and the band are rarely paid. Despite that, Lips remains upbeat, happy to be touring at all.

After their return to Toronto, Anvil are ready to record their next album. They decide to approach engineer Chris Tsangarides, who recorded them early in their career, to see if he’s inter­ested in working with them again. To their sur­prise, he’s inter­ested, and after bor­rowing money from friends and family, the band fly to England to record their 13th album, clev­erly entitled “This is Thirteen.” Another round of con­flict between Robb and Lips ensues, but all ends in tearful hugs and the album is fin­ished. Lips buzzes that the band has never sounded as good. Despite that, they can’t get any record com­panies inter­ested in releasing it, so they decide to go direct and sell it themselves.

Throughout it all, Robb and espe­cially Lips come across as incred­ibly open-hearted and even sweet guys. One mem­or­able scene has Lips, in an attempt to earn some money, working as a tele­marketer. He doesn’t last very long before he con­fesses that he’s just too honest. His some­what goofy face may be the reason that the band never achieved the suc­cess of bands like Metallica or Anthrax or Slayer, but he’s incap­able of being anyone else. Now in their 50s, Robb and Lips still haven’t cut their thin­ning hair, and though they look a bit out of place among their brothers and sis­ters, their fam­ilies (espe­cially their long-suffering wives) have been incred­ibly patient, if not always supportive.

The film ends with a lovely grace note. After receiving a call from a con­cert pro­moter in Japan, Anvil are invited to open a metal fest­ival in front of a poten­tial audi­ence of 20,000. Gervasi poignantly inserts footage from the Super Rock tour of Japan the band played in 1984, and I swear that the goofy grin on Lips’ face is even wider now than it was then. When the lights came up, I was sporting my own goofy grin, as well as a small lump in the throat.

If there was any­thing missing from the film, it might be the absence of two of the three mem­bers of the unholy trinity of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Despite a ref­er­ence early on from Robb about having to throw away his drugs during a border crossing in Europe, we never see any of the partying for which bands in gen­eral, and metal bands in par­tic­ular, were legendary. These guys can still rock out, clearly, but it would have been inter­esting to see if they still party like young guys.

Just as an aside, during Anvil’s brief heyday in the early 80s, I was into a rockabilly-punk band from Hamilton called Teenage Head. Their career has had a sim­ilar tra­jectory, with lots of missed chances at fame, and an enduring legacy as “also-rans” among bands with argu­ably much less talent. Though I was never a roadie for them, this film has me thinking of making “Teenage Head! The Story of Teenage Head.” Frankie and Legs, get in touch!

Here is the Q&A with dir­ector Sacha Gervasi and the band from after the screening:

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Duration: 12:10

Official site for the film
Official site of the band

9/10(9/10)

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My Effortless Briliance
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. My Effortless Brilliance is screening on Sunday March 9 and Tuesday March 11 at 11:00am, and on Thursday March 13 at 1:30pm. All screen­ings are at the Alamo Ritz 1.

My Effortless Brilliance (2008, Director: Lynn Shelton): Well, although I haven’t seen it, I think it might be impossible to talk about this film without ref­er­en­cing Kelly Reichardt’s Old Joy (2006). Both films fea­ture female dir­ectors dir­ecting an all-male cast, fea­turing a musi­cian in a lead role, in stories about lost male friend­ship and set in the wil­der­ness of the Pacific Northwest. Except that in the case of My Effortless Brilliance, it’s played mostly (but not only) for laughs.

Sean Nelson is the lead singer of the band Harvey Danger, but he seems born for the screen. In the film he plays Eric Lambert Jones, a semi-successful nov­elist who is doing read­ings for his third novel. While in rural eastern Washington, he drives four hours out of his way to drop in on his old friend Dylan (Basil Harris). The film begins two years earlier, with Dylan essen­tially breaking up with Eric, telling him he’s always been a ter­rible friend. Eric’s attempt to somehow rekindle the friend­ship doesn’t go smoothly. He dis­covers that Dylan is working for a local news­paper and is con­tent living in his cabin in the woods. He also has a new best friend, the lac­onic Jim (Calvin Reeder) who seems happy to hunt and fish and read nothing more lit­erary than Bukowski. Over the weekend, the trio hang out and drink, with the overedu­cated city slicker Eric trying his best to fit into this set­ting. With his round face and wild curls, Sean Nelson plays Eric like the over­grown baby he is, self-absorbed and needy. He is a man who lives mostly in his head and who seems allergic to phys­ical labour. Dylan and his new friend Jim are men of action, who wear plaid work­shirts and seem to enjoy split­ting wood all day. Just as it looks like Eric has over­stayed his wel­come, the three get into a drunken con­ver­sa­tion that feels remark­ably like a real drunken con­ver­sa­tion. The end result is the sight of the group of them out­side in the middle of the night, hunting a cougar, and then the inev­it­able hangovers on the morning after.

What I liked about the film was its hon­esty. Men’s friend­ships can be pretty dif­fi­cult to por­tray. We don’t often have heart to heart con­ver­sa­tions and talk about our feel­ings, but we do express them in oblique ways, and My Effortless Brilliance felt extremely real to me. This is prob­ably due to the fact that Sean Nelson and Basil Harris are real-life friends, and that the script was a col­lab­or­ative effort between the actors and the dir­ector. That is, if there actu­ally was a script. The sense of impro­visa­tion is so strong and the film so gor­geously shot that you’ll feel like you’re tag­ging along on Eric’s weekend in the country.

Official site for the film

7/10(7/10)

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