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.
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.
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