'RFK' AND NICK PALEOLOGOS

Congratulations and thanks to Nick Paleologos, newly appointed head of the Massachusetts Film Office, whose "night job" is Executive Director of the Stuart Street Playhouse. Among the many qualifications he brings to both jobs, he had also some experience with Broadway productions, and even co-produced David Rabe;s HURLY BURLY with Sean Pann for the screen.

Lately, though, he bought an exillerating one man show of RFK to the stage. For some, it was a history lesson; for others, it was a recollection of a time when there really was passionate political commitment. For me, it was a memory (In l957, I met the man) and a reminder of life's possibilities. For all, it was great theatre.

And, as I sat in the theatre, remembering the Globe review ofhow many political notables attended opening night, I also thought of the man who runs the theatre, but whose savvy of the ways of Beacon Hill and his understanding of the needs of the local film community make him uniquely qualified for the film job.

PANDORA'S BOX AT AND IN THE COOLIDGE

On a beautiful Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago, I wandered into the magnificent Coolidge Corner Theatre to see an almost 80 year old black and white German classic, PANDORA'S BOX by G.W. Pabst, with live and "original" music accompaniment by MIT scholar Martin Marx. It is one of the darkest films ever made, but also one of tghe greatest. There were almost 100 people there, and not all of them were over 60, as I remarked to my 24 year old companion,, who was not quite the youngest in attendance.

But to see the ravishing Louise Brooks as Lulu on the big screen was worth it. I have seen the film almost ten times, the first being on Valentine's Day, l975, at MOMA. where, after the screening, my then 8 year old son broke out in chickenpox (although, to be fiar, I dont't think there was a cause-effect situation there). And I have a special place for the film, for the paper I wrote on it got me into the doctoral program in Cinema Studies at NYU.

Lulu is the untimate femme fatale.

And, I believe, every man, and perhaps, woman, should have a little Lulu in one's life, but ONLY ONCE. One cannot help but fall in love and become obsessed with her. She's totaly captivating, and totally amoral - and unwittingly dangerous. Years later, when a young Melanie Griffith, with a black wig, stands poised to jump into harried husband Jeff Daniel's car in Jonathan Demme's SOMETHING WILD, and says, "I'm Lulu," where know were in for a wild and downhill ride, straight to a terrifying Ray Liotta. But Melanie Griffith is no Louise Brooks, and Brooks' presence is so great that I can remember my hands trembling when, during my research at MOMA, I help an original script with Louise Brooks' phone # in Berlin written on it.

In PANDORA'S BOX, it is not only the men, but also Lulu herself, that go downhhill.
And Lulu wouldn't be so memorable if it weren't for Louise Brooks. Increbibly beautiful, she projects the hedonistic joy, a kind of innocence, and a surprising tenderness, especially in the a man who turns out to be Jack the Ripper, at whose hands she dies.

On the big screen at the Coolidge, not only was Louise Brooks there larger than life, but the film's beautifully directed, stunningly shot cinematic wonders were there to discover. The expressiontic compositions, especially on the boat, in the scene with predator Rodrigo Quast (a fat trapeze artist) threatens Lulu, standing with a carved crocodile behind him, or, later, when she cries out, "Everyone wants my life - my blood," amidst the angles of the shoips deck and scaffolding. And,, expecially the way Pabst uses light - memorably when it is in the eyes of Louise Brooks.

It's great for the Coolidge to bring events like these. It's too bad they can't be at a more accomodating time. In order to get the kind of films that people will go to, booker Connie White is adament about not doing anything to affect a weekend's grosses. That so many films she books are also playing at so many other theatres - e.g., the Coolidge is one of twelve theatres playing Michael Moore's SICKO - take some of the specialness of the Coolidge is unfortunate. On the other hand, Executive Director Joe Zina and his team more than make up for it by devoloping programs like them (part of a series), and accomodidating series like Video Balagan, Off the Couch, and showcasing so many locak works. Almost 20 years ago, I was part of a group that fought to save the Coolidge to preserve its role in the community.
that fight has proved itself worthwhile. And, last week Zina announced plans to expand the stage, so tha t more live events can be present. With emerging technology and fluctuating audience habits it is important that the theatre functions even when moviegoing habits change.

So it was great to see PANDORA'S BOX at the Coolidge. Louise Brooks is immortal, and, in some way, so is the Colidge.


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DON'T GO WEST, YOUNG MAN

Last week, there was a front page article in the Boston Globe about Emerson College's espansion of its Hollywood program.
That's good for Emerson, I suppose, but the expansion of the program is based as much on fantasy than reality, and it comes at as time when film production activity, both from within and without the State is increasing.
It is tgrue that Emerson's program has increased and improved over the last twenty years (I taught there at the beginning of the expansion) And a lot of Emerson slum have moved there. Many are happy (although they miss the New England seasons), but others find themselves at entry evel, menial jobs that are abundant out there, but are not prfessionally fulfilling.
Hollywood hasn't changed much since Nathanial West wrote his devastiating critique of Holywood in DAY OF THE LOCUST. But then, in l939, Hollywood was at least centralized. Now, there is very little activity there. Last Thanksgiving, when I last visited, there was an op-ed piece by LA's mayor peading with film people to stay. Holywood has become increasingly decentrlized, what with film production being done every place but in Hollywood.
Why go? MMaybe to see for oneself, only to return in 4 r five years. But, although I think it might be a bit prematgure, if not slightly naive, for Beanywood to announce the Boston has become the intersection between Beantown and Holywod, the area still offers promise. With at least four major Hollywood productins being shot in the state before the end of the year, and no fewer than a dozen local productiions (what with the new tax incentives which now begin for ocal indie productions starting at $50,000). Beanywod and the group making "12" (see an earlier blog) are actualy prjects to promote filmmaking in Massachusetts. And there is Nick Paleologos, the new head of the State Film Office, a man with perspective, experience and contacts, to oversee the Renaissance. On top of that, there is Paul Sherman's book on the histry of filmmaking in Massachusetts.
In short, just like thirty years ago, when it was great to be a fil mgoer in Bostn (what with the Orsn Welles, Off the Wall and the Central Square) the end of the first decade of the 21st century will mark a period where it wil be great to be a filmmaker in Boston.
So before are you glassy eyed Emerson grads head west, take a closer look at what's going on around you. No matter what, Hollywood has become largely decentralized, and Boston is on the way back.

SIX INDIES

The (fortunately) wide range of independent film activity can be seen in the random sampling of fims I've seen lately.

To start with, there are the pushing the envelope films -two of them - bth from estabished masters of doing just that.

The first was THE BOSS OF IT ALL, by iconoclastic Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier, whose BREAKING THE WAVES added immeasurably to the way I thought film stories could be told. Less so here. A very self-conscius effort, it has a pseudo-Pirandellian structure in which an actor is hired to impersonate a CEO to camaflage the real CEO'S attempt to sell the company to a group of Icelanders. The out of work actor is committed to the theatre aesthetic of a fictitious Gambini (perhaps a variation of Theatre of Cruelty's Antonin Artaud). Anyway, it sall gets mixed up, where the artistic point gets belabored and the entire film seems less intellectually challenging than merely ponderous.

Von Trier still has some of the Dogme 95 aesthetic, which at its best was displayed in Thomas Winterbotham's family reunion film, THE CELEBRATION. But he still tires to dictate, and a new Scottish film, RED ROAD, which deals with a surveillance operator's discovery of the early release from prison of a man who killed her daughter provided intriguing melodrama, kinky sex and a fascinating formal consideration of the ethics of spying.

Much more successful than BOSS OF IT ALL is Guy Maddin's BRAND UPON THE BRAIN. Maddin is noted for his films which display the visual pyrotechics of late 20's silent film, not only from the German Expressionist period, but also from the Soviet Union. And he does so with humnor. The best example is his 5-l/2 minute short film (commissioned for the 25th anniversary of the Toronto International Film Festivasl.

In this film, the stylistics get stretched out for 95 minutes, which, I must admit, got wearisome. Nevertheless, this pseudo-autobiographical tale of a workman named Guy maddin who revisits his home that was an orphanage in a lighthouse on an island.
His mother is bonkers; his father sucks the fluid out of the brains of the orphans, ets. What would Maddin's therapist say? What makes BRAND UPON THE BRAIN work is that in spite of it invocation of silent film aesthetics, and more than a little acknowledgement of the FRANKENSTEIN stories, i s that it is a thoroughly original story, and at least it's a movie.

If Guy Maddin's film makes one want to know what his therapist would say, the same is also true of a film that is the stylistic opposite of Maddins', a documentary called 51 BIRCH STREET, a hit at last year's Boston Jewish Film Festival and a held-over-by-popular-emand at the Museum of Fine Arts. In this, a documentary filmmaker (this is the third self-referential film we've talked about) finds out after his mother dies that his parents had had a loveless marriage. The mother dies after 50 years of marriage and his father goes to Florida, finds and marries his former secretary, and sells the home. In cleaning out the house, the son discovers the diaries his mother has written, which reavel the pain and loneliness of the marriage. As it progresses, the film, like peeling an onion, reveals layers of complexity and anxiety. But it also leads to the bonding between a father and son. It is a very moving film.

Of the recent indies, many are done in a documentary style in which the dialogue seems improvised, and the camera is definately hand held. Onthe more proximate side, the films reseble those f local boy Andres Bujolski, whose FUNNY HA HA and MUTUAL APPRECIATION have caused some stir. But the true antecedent is John Cassavetes.
a samplingf f these films are currently n display at the Harvard Film Archive in a series curated by HFA programmer Ted Barron and Cassavetes scholar Ray Carney.

One to catch is HANNAH TAKES THE STAIRS, which in fact has Bujolski in it. A film about a woman winvolved with three men, the dialogue and situation seems real for the 20-something generation. I especially liked the playing the trumpet in the bathtub at the end of the film. But in spite of ists seeming improvisation, there is a definate three act structure, nicely camafloughed.

Of the recent indie films I've randmely viewed, the most successful in Adrienne Shelley's WAITRESS, a film almost everyone who sees it calls "sweet." And that is not a pun, although the central character specializxes in making pies. In fact, her pie making, in which she invents pies to match the mood or sitguation she's in, provides the film's most interesting and original stylistic fluorish. But the sweetness of the film is also it's liability. Although the performances are good, the character's are little more than cardboard. (The title character's loutish husband is beyond belief, and Andy Griffith's crusty cut heart of gold restaurant owner really dojes harken back to Mayberry) Yet, this low budget no star film is finding audiences, and I think that is good. I'm sure that the death f the director has been in part responsibile for the good will shown toward the film, but, in spite of the script's implausibilityes, I'm glad it has foundan audience.

And, I'm glad, in spite of my reservations about some of these films, that audiences can see a range of filmmaking that is not easily encountered in a summer filled with the latest instalments f franchise movies.

OPEN "THE GOLDEN DOOR"- AT LEAST IT'S A MOVIE

For years, including the current (July l) issue of The pheonix, critics have been talking about the death of Italian cinema. Gone are the days of Fellini, Antonioni, the Taviani brothers, Ermmano Olmi and even Mario Bellochio (whose FISTS IN HIS POCKET is a classic,but whose latest film, THE WEDDING DIRECTOR, is the most recent object of derision.).

But along comes Emanuele Crialese's THE GOLDEN DOOR,(Nuovo Mondo) imported in part by no less august an Italian cinephile than Martin Scorcese. A tale of late l9th century iIrtalian immigration to America, it bears comparison to Jan Troells' THE EMIGRANTS, certainly outdoes this film for seasickness, to the powerful L'AMERICA, about Armeniad refugee/immigrants, and to Elia Kazan's eloquent biographical AMERICA, AMERICA (Scorcese is making a documentary on Kazan)

At the end of the screening I attended, some members of the audience applauded, a rarity at normal filmgoing that I've only encountered at film festivals but I ob served this year at screenings of THE LIVES OF OTHERS. I must admit, that in sitting through the film, I had some difficulty. Characters and their relationships weren't clearly defined. The English woman's (Charlotte Gainsbourg) is not adequately explained (no matter how deliberate that narrative strategy is). We lose sight of whose story it is. And the flights into magical realism (especially the swimming in the river of milk) dn=on't always work. And the weak attempts at post moderism (a Nina Simone soundtrack) are only jarring.

Nevertheless, it is the most purely cinematic Italian movie I've seen in years.

Some of the annoying things about the film come from the fact the it is a rigorous exercise in point of view narration. Nothing we see is outside the perspective of the immigrants. There is little exposition, and, in fact, very little dialogue. Many of the plot points (the Englishwoman, the family relationships) are simply left unexplained.
We never get an establishing shot of the entire ship nor do we get an exterior shot of Ellis Island. Even when the immigrants get a view of New York's high buildings, we see only their reaction, not what they see. On the ship, we get a strong sense of clausrophobia and disconnectedness. We never see them interacting with the ship's crew. The scene when the ship leaves the shore, and for a monent we can't distinguish between who is saying goodbye and who is leaving, is b rialliant.

The magic realism is less like that of the Mexicn film LIKE WATER, LIKE CHOCOLAT) than some of the great moments f Italian cinema. For examble, when the villagers in Fellini's AMARCORD go to see the great ocean liner, larger than life atop a sea of black plastic bags, or that magnificent scene in the Taviani Brothers NIGHT OF THE SHOOTING STARS, where peasants weilding pitchforks all of a sudden become Grecian warriors.

Because it is so rigorus is the use of point of view technique, scenese at Ellis Island like the absurdity of the exams or the matching of mail order brides take on extra power.

In the great tradition i Italian filmmaking, THE GLDEN DOOR is at once a powerfully humanistic film and a magnificent piece of sheer filmmaking.

TWEENERS - ON BROADWAY and THE BUSKER - and THEIR PLACE IN THE INDEPENDENT FILM MARKET

Over the last l5 years, the definitiion of "independent film" has become as vague as that of "producer" At one time, independent films were defined by the fact that the fim challenged the viewer either in form and/or content- films like Darren Aronofskys PI or Soderberg's SEX LIES AND VIDEOTAPE. Now, the term applies to any film financed outside the studio system, no matter how conventional the film is either in the treatment of the subject matter or in the filmmaking itself. Starting in the mid-90's with Ed Burns' BROTHERS MCMULLIN, such films are often only calling cards to make Holywood-style films for theatres or television, and Ed Burns career shows the most banal of sensibilities, while his contemporary, Kevin Smith, at least makes interesting films.

In New England, independent films range from the acting powerhouse of IN THE BEDROOM, and the mostly European sensibility of NEXT STOP WONDERLAND, to the straight to DVD senibilities of PONY TROUBLE and DIVINE INTERVENTION.

Into this mix come two earnest, heartfelt and fairly well produced films, Steve Croke's THE BUSKER and Dave McLaughlin's ON BROADWAY. Both films work with recognizable Boston area neighborhoods, Lowell and South Boston, respectively,. and both have an Irish-American motif. And, both are what I call "tweeners", films that could appeal to a negaples cudience, but whose production values are so low that no large distributor would take them. On the ther hand, neighter film is edgy either in form or in content, so that they would be shunned by patrons of theatres like the Kendall Square or the Coolidge.

In a way, both films stand in comparison to the current art house feel good hit ONCE. Like ON BROADWAY, ONCE has the Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland motif of "Ok, boys and girls, let's put on a play," while THE BUSKER also deals with undiscovered street musicians. ONCE's stated $l50,000 budget is somewhere between THE BUSKERs and ON BROADWAY.

But there is a difference. In ONCE, the music soars and the leads have chemistry. And, in ONCE, the film breaks boundaries in terms of storytelling and in the way the way music is used redefines what we think a film musical is. ON BROADWAY and THE BUSKER, alas, hove no such ambitions.

Not to say these two local films are not without merit, and, if they could find the right audience, that audience would enjoy themseves. At a recent screening of THE BUSKER at the Museum of Fine Arts, where that great and generous programmer, Bo Smith, gave the film a three-day run, Bo commented to me that he was happy to see so many unfamiliar faces at the screening.
That means THE BUSKER did not attract the more cinema-savvy filmgoing crowd. At the premiewre screening of ON BROADWAY at the IFFM at the sold out 900 seat Somervile Theatre, I was surrounded by people some of whom hadn't been in a movie theatre since JAWS. Clearly the audience was dominated by friends and family, asnd they loved it. At a screening of THE BUSKER I told the filmmaker that he could expect a warm response, and that during the question and answer period, he would get a qwuestion like, "I really loved your movie, why don't they make movies like this any more?" They do, but they don't get into movie theatres or else they become high budget, earnest tear=jerkers like EVENING or A MIGHTY HEART.

Both films are likable. ON BROADWAY has the marquee value of Eliza Dushku, who gives an annoyingly twitchy performance, but at least has name recognition for overseas sales. But the audience that comes to see the home grown play that is the film's subject matter, is the kind of audience that never goes to plays. In the film, where the play is staged in a bar in South Boston, the audience loves it. There is also the predictable father-son reconciliation scene. So, too, the audience at the Somerville. As much as they enjoyed that film, I would bet noone would increase their movie-going habit one bit. As for THE BUSKER, it certainly has a much less preditable plot ine than ON BROADWAY, and it has a truly good performance from a teenage black actress. It also dares to portray a teenage black/white romance.
Shot in Lowell, it makes Lowell look great.

But it, too, is a tweener

















































































'tweener"