FILM OFFICE FIASCO

Last week, there was am editorial in the Boston Globe about the state of disarray that is Massachusetts film office situatiion. There are, in fact, two film offices. One, the Massachusetts Film Bureau, is a privitized orgfanization run by Robin Dawson, who used to be head of the state run film office, until it was unceremoniouslyu closed. The other, run by Mark Drago, of the Sports and Entertainment division, is seemingly state sanctioned.

For a state that is trying to bring in filmmaking business into the state, this is a confusiong state of affairs. Dawson, who was brought in by former governer, friend, and movie buff Paul Celucci, does deserve credit for blowing the whistle on the Teamsters, and for focusing some of her attention on regional filmmakers by having events at Sundance and Nantucket. Her mandate was, after all,, to try to bring business into the State, which, because they had their own crews, often did not do as much for the ocal film and video community as one might think. And what efforts did go toward the local people, were more due to the work of her deputy, Tim Grafft.

Drago, on the other hand, has few connections to or experience with the national film industry.and, when the Globe seemed to endorse Dawson, there was a major outcry from the local film community., The editorial writer said he had never see such a backlash.

What we have is a private film office that has little credibility with the local film industry, and a state office with little experience. Both are sending confusing signals to the people they serve and try to support. As has been true for the last few years there has been an utter lack of leadership in a film and video community that has an incredibe amount of talent. But BFVF is gone, as in the3 Mass Media Alliance (the constitiuancies of both never overlapped, however) Romney is a Mormon and could care less about the entertainment industry. Although the Teamsters are contained, there is still noone to go to for outside [roductions and noone to promote the talent that is here. Once upon a time, there were sixxteen years in arow where a documentary film from the Boston area got into competition at Sundance; nine years in a row for narrative film. But without local support and leadership, those days are unlikely to return.

THE DARK SIDE

After several months being immersed in undergroud films for Boston Underground Film Festival #7, I would have thought I might seen out more lighthearted fare. After all, films like FAMILY PORTRAITS by Douglas Buck and YOU ARE ALONE by Gorman Bechard were good films but truly downers, as was the Oscar winning animated film RYAN, about a homeless animator. But, since my favorite commercial films of the decade are MILLION DOLLAR BABY, ROAD TO PERDITION and MYSTIC RIVER (one recent blogger named Zach called MYSTIC RIVER the cheesiest film o f the decade - why do Eastwood;s films provoke such wrath?) , what I would go to see and like are predictable. I prefer the Jacobean tragedy elements of MYSTIC and ROAD to most of the feel good movies out there.

In THE PURPLE ROSE OF CAIRO, the Mia Farrow character, struggling through the Depression and an abusive husband, goes to the movies for escape. I still go for cnfrontation. For me, the screen is a mirror, and watching THE SEVENTH SEAL and Fellini's 8-l/2 are like an examination of conscience.

So,. after the intensity of BUFF, I took off to recuperate on the North Schore, and I did some movie sampling. I avoided HITCH, and walked out on Danny Boyle's MILLIONS, which seemed well edited (as usual), but way too benign. I saw a good part of SIN CITY, a stylistic tour de force which wallows in the dark side, sort f a comic book version of LAST EXIT TO BROOKLYN. But the film that I skipped HITCH for was the Israeli fim WALK ON WATER, a fairly convincing portrait of a dedicated Israei hit man, whose assignment to find information from the gradchildren of a former Nazi leads him into areas that make him not only confront his wn attitudes, but also his own humanity made for a compelling story. Again, not light stuff.

So I might even miss FEVER PITCH

BUFF #7 - THE AFTERMATH

BUFF #7 turned out better than it had any right to. With limited resources, limited funding and severely understaffed, it was the best BUFF in the last four years.

What success it had was due primarily to the superheroic efforts of the two co-managing directors, Anna Feder and Kevin Monahan. New to Boston and having worked on the Northampton Film Festival on Halloween weekend, they put together a program and a festival in a remarkable short period of time.

It certainly was the best programmed festival, with no films we neeeded to feel embarassed about, and the opening night reception at Orleans and the closing night awards ceremony at Johnny D's were the bookends for a true celebration of alternative film. Both the filmmakers and the audience had a good time,

BUFF has always had a late start, but ths year not only was the program better, but, surprisingly, there was also more sponsors and advertisers.

True, the festival took a psysical, psychological and financial toll on those who put it together, but the success of the festival does provide the basis for a better festival next year. After all, we were up against the 48-hour film festival, the Soirero event at the Coolidge, Todd Solendz b4eing in town and some truly good alternative screenings at other venues.

I just want to say a personal "Thank You" to Anna and Kevin, and to those like Izzy, Moira, Byron, Mike and Ed, who helped make it happen, as well as the continuing suport of Christy Scott Cashman of Saint-Aire Productions, Newbury Comics, and my old friend Gus Rancatore of Toscanini's Ice Cream and the Someday Cafe.

Certainly, Davis

YOU ARE ALONE-B UFF - THE DAY AFTER

The last film I watched with an audience at ths year's BUFF was an extraordinary fim by Connecticut filmmaker Gorman Bechard, YOU ARE ALONE. The film is basically a conversation between a Yae undergrad escort service girl and her client, who happends to be the divorced next door neighbor who had happened upon her at his nephew's bachelor party. As trite as this might sound, it is not at all, for (since the film is not likely to get major theatreical distribution, I can tell you the story), his purpose in hiring her was more sinister than just having sex.

In the course of the film, the two talk a lot,and the woman, brialliantly performed by Jessica Bohl, the two uncover the layers of oneness. He - who lost his wife; she, more existential, has sex to escape the loneliness from incomplete relationships, with family, with lovers. The film never quite hits the existential possibilities f the title, but it does hit a chord.

And, fr me, I watched it at a time when thefestival I thought I had developed, didn't draw the people in the Boston area who would seek out films trat are among the best that BUDFF has ever presented, and bacause the co-programmers, who have done an excellent job, had their own set of ideas and of ownership f BUFF.

The ultimately sad and lonely people in YOU ARE ALONE never feel sorry for themselves, and, as I realize that, at my age, there is a disconnect between myself and the audience I would like to have, as well as the unexpected disconnect between myself and those who worked so hard to mark BUFF 7 work. The man in the film wanted to be taken out of his misery; the woman who did it might move on.

BUFF = THE MORNING AFTER - FRIENDS AND FRIENDS

Last night the seventh edition of BUFF ended, and certainly thanks to what my animator friend Bob White calls a "godsend" (he made a film called GODDESS) the participation of my managing directors, Anna Feder and Kevin Monahan, the Festival was a significant step forward. The program guide was terrific, as was the cover design, and the filmmakers who came, for the mst part, felt happy and appreciative. The So,erville Theatre and the DFavid Square environs allowed for the requisite schmoozing. and the audiences, although variabe in terms of size, were responsive.

BUT - even though we got more in sponsorship than ever before, and that Ihad developed a "friends" category that l0-a dozen people had contributed to, I saw few of them at the festival. Last week, I had dinner with Mass Media Alliance founder Joan Quinn Eastmen and her husband Dan, as well as the first "friends" supporter, Susan Johnston. Ot had been great to see them, and I was remended about how I found that relationship be a springboard for what I hoped would become a greater cohesion to what I call the flim commjnity. That never really happened. I've digressed. What I noticed was that, with the exception of my long time friend Ed Slattery, and some fimmakers like Bob White and Allan Piper, there were very few people I acutally knew at the Festival. For me, it's about sharaing an alternative vision with people who in one way or another, care passionately about film. When that doesn't happen, there;s no point in my cntinuing/ It's true that most of the financial support and much of the film program came from my contacts, but it'stime to move on

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS ON SATURDAY

How many times have I seen this movie? This "true story" about a non-division I small community football teamthat goes on to win under the stern but understanding eye of the head coach (Billy Bob Thornton) the Texas state title, may be inspirational, but by now the formula is hackneyed. There was some film about Olympics players with Kurt Russell (THE MIRACLE), THE ROOKIE, MYSTERY ALASKA, DRUMROLL(?) and REMEMBER THE TITANS, five hankey fillms for guys.

I know the film got good reviews, but maybe that was because it was a surprisingly small oasis in what has been a cinematic desert so far this year. The production values are good enough and the editing is interestingly non-conventional. The performances are ok, but I would rather see Billy Bob as BAD SANTA, or even Tom Hanks in A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN, than to see Thornton in a film dominated by feel good formula.

Last week it was ALONG CAME POLLY; now it's LIGHTS. At least there;s sinetgbg oisutuve. Stay awayt from te megaplexes and the movies that are offered so soon on cable.

CONTINUITY AND CHANGE

That was the name of a song performed by a Boston-based punk rock band called Sorry, which was actually founded by my son, who is now in LA, and dealing with the ambiguities of survival both in life and in LA. I cannot comment on which might be harder. The b and was around in the early 80;s, a heavily Mission of Burma influenced time, and my son went n to write a script based on the lgendary nature of Burma, before he went on to co-direct the about to be completed feature about the band and its resurrection.

For the upcoming Boston Underground Film Festival, we wanted to show a work in progress excerpt from the film, but because there was a misprint on the Boston Herald which inferred that a whole rough cut might be screened, the producer, Eran Lobel, sent a non=personal "Sorry" note to say he was withdrawing the film. Citing anxieties among other people associated with Burma, (I'm assuming Mark Kates, of Fenway Recording Studios, who shouldn't be in business in the first place), he expressed a sort of unwarrented paranoid concern.

The purpose of wanting to show the excerpt was to promote my son, who at age 39 is struggling, and Burma, whom he met in my living room some 23 years ago, and to promote Burma, whose music I love.,. That juxtaposition has affected the trajectories of both of our lives. The meeting was arranged by o ne of my former students from my Babson teaching days, Bob Moses, who not only introduced me to Burma in the first place, but who also co-authored a book with my son, You Stand There, on making low budget rock videos, pu blished by a subsidiary of Random House.

Yesterday, I received a call from my son's first girlfriend, Alison, who also lives in LA. Like me, my son also has connections with old relationships. She may be his best friend. She and her husband are the ones I saw BIG FISH with, which was in oneof my earliest blogs. A recent mother, she took the time to call and express concern about David. His mother is leaving for LA tomorrow morning . With both of us having a history of historic and intertwined relatinships, the continuity and change, it sometimes feels like a Dickens novel.

My son called me the other day, just before I went to a reading of a script by Christina Sartori, who managed my last two BUFFs, through all the ups and downs. The call had been disturbing, and we coud not go into the convivial "six degrees of seaparation" stories that have often occured. Fortunately, Charistina's script was so good that it could distract me from what was on my mind, and I was happy to see that someone who had spent so much time in my living room, was moving on, and that we would remain in touch. I would like to help in the deveopment of her film. But, at the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think about the positive dynamics of over 20 years ago thak seem to have dissolved. Noone is better off for it.

THE WILD PARROTS OF TELEGRAPH HILL

Certainly a film for pet owners. I can't imagine what anyone who hasn't bonded with a pet would make of Mark Bittner, who, for several years played godfather to a flock of wild parrots in San Fransicso. I went with a friend who is a pet devotee herself, and was moved to tears his statements f reciprcal emotional bonding with the parrots, who flew in and out of his lefe as they fulfilled their destinies. It is not a fim for animal skeptics. It has elements of both adages, "Truth is stranger than fiction," and, although this is a documentary, for some it would require a "wlliing suspension of disbelief."

Actually, as good a view of wild parrots as this movie is, it is actualy more a portrait of Marc Bittner, a sort of pre-80's slacker, who is part of the post Beat, hippie/anti-war generation. The film doesn't realy account of how he survives (he lived rent free and an Italian woman gives him free food, presumably because he is a Telegraph Hill fixture and adds to the texture of the neighborhood. And, director Judy Irving's parrot shots, however cnvincint and illuminating about how parrots live, still could be left open to an interpretatiion other than Mark's. And, of course this is mitigated by the fact that, as we find out at the end of the film, they becaue a coupl;e, probably to remind us of the parrot relationships we've encountered in the film.

This is the third documentary in a row that I've seen, and certainly PARROTS is interesting, affecting, and maybe because I've become a pet person myself, occasionaly very moving. Also,. there's very little else out there to choose from.in the world of narrative film. The others I've seen recently are BORN INTO BROTHELS and WATERMARKS, and, in spite of reservations, I believe I made the right choices.


, And, I certainly will remember Connell, the blue-haired parrot, who "chooses" to live without a partner and to fly free in the open, and who meets a fate of choosing to live in the wild.