Out of Focus

The 48th New York Film Festival arrives in magnificently Social fashion

When I decided to return to this blog and make a serious effort to regularly and consistently post primarily reviews and commentary about film, television and theater, I also told myself I would approach this endeavor with a new writing process. Too often during the original Out of Focus days, quantity and speed took precedence over quality. Watching primarily from the sidelines over the past couple years, nothing has become more apparent than the predilection—particularly in film circles—that "first" has become more important than "good" to a whole lotta people.

I don't refer only to "first" with coverage of actual news or information, even though I am amused by much of the "Breaking News" arriving from any number of outlets a full 24 hours after it "broke." I'm even more troubled, though, when I get the "Breaking News" reviews, especially from the major trades. I'm not sure that a "Breaking News" alert came from The Hollywood Reporter for their review of Marmaduke, but it might as well have. And it certainly isn't just major trades or news outlets. For some reason, someone's opinion in the form of criticism has taken on the role of "the scoop"! That seems silly to me, but apparently, for many writers and sites, being the first to dislike something is as important as being the first to like it. When a film has 100% score on Rotten Tomatoes, apparently nothing is more important than being the first instigator of the backlash. Or, if there's some formal element or argument that nobody else seems to have noticed—valid or not—writers eagerly stake their claims. It also seems to me that almost universally in these cases, the discourse suffers, but not as much as the writing.

I'm not trying to change anyone else's purpose or methods, and obviously, sometimes rush deadlines exist and can't be helped; nor am I specifically calling-out other critics and writers, but I vowed to myself to use a different, slower, more contemplative process in an effort to improve myself and my own writing. I admire plenty of writers who certainly work faster with better results than do I. But for me, for now, at least in this space, I've chosen to generally make a different choice.

So with that longer-than-anticipated prologue in mind, this somewhat quickly dashed-off missive qualifies as an outlier. For one thing, I'm writing and posting on the same day. (One of my "new rules": Always sleep on a piece and edit with fresh eyes the next day.) Neither a full review nor adequate preview, I felt uncomfortable leaving the Walter Reade Theater today after one of the odder double-features in history without acknowledging that tonight marks the opening of the 48th New York Film Festival, and what a New York Film Festival it looks to be. Sadly, so far I haven't been able to attend as many press screenings as I had hoped, and I've missed several films that I truly looked forward to seeing, most notably, Olivier Assayas's Carlos, Hong Sang-soo's latest Oki's Movie and the special event selection Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff.

But what I have seen so far has, for the most part, been excellent. The "Masterworks" sidebar of Fernando de Fuentes' Mexican Revolution Trilogy (which plays at the Walter Reade on Sept. 29-30) is both entertaining and fascinating due not only to the three stories told, but also because of how the three films illustrate the speedy development of Mexican cinema in the 1930s over just four years, mimicking certain Hollywood trends.

I'm also a sucker for Martin Scorsese's essay films A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies and (especially) Il Mio Viaggio in Italia, the latter being a wonderful survey focusing on the history Italian cinema, particularly the Neorealism movement. A Letter to Elia—a 60-minute paean to Elia Kazan—may be far shorter than either A Personal Journal or Il Mio Viaggio, but it's also quite possibly the most personal and emotional film Scorsese has ever made, and at least for me, both a wonderful educational experience and joy to watch. Seeing it back-to-back with Kazan's America, America (featured heavily in the documentary) on Monday should be an event well-worth attending.

I've also seen Apichatpong Weerasethakul's excellent Cannes winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (playing this weekend), and Abbas Kiarostami's stunning and brilliant Certified Copy (playing Oct. 1 and 3), a film I saw on Tuesday, can't stop thinking about and love more every day.

The only disappointment for me so far has been LENNONYC. "Lennon in America" would have been a better title for the resulting film, an unnecessarily-long, nearly-two-hour, meandering and unfocused documentary about John Lennon's post-Beatles years living with (and without) Yoko in the U.S. A great film hides underneath, because the pieces—archive footage, new interviews, fabulous stories—all are individually wonderful, but they come together into an unsatisfying whole.

And then we reach today, featuring NYFF's opening night selection of David Fincher's The Social Network—a/k/a "That Facebook Movie"—followed by the latest from Jean-Luc Godard, Film Socialisme. I'm nowhere near ready to say anything about the Godard, nor will I ever find myself vociferously arguing for or against it.

Fincher's film, on the other hand, definitely deserves many of the hosannas coming its way. I'm not actually sure what I had expected, nor had I read any reviews of the movie ahead of time; headlines and miscellaneous tweets comprised all the buzz to hit my ears (or eyes). If anything, my wariness of most-things-Aaron Sorkin gave me pause. (I have issues with how all his characters generally sound exactly alike.) But for me, the "Sorkinese" (as Fincher called it during one of the better post-screening press conferences I've attended) not only worked but generally disappeared, or at the very least, became overshadowed by the interpersonal dynamics between all these individual characters so well-played by this talented cast.

The Social Network both in its quality and relevance constitutes one of the better (if not the best?) NYFF opening night films in recent memory. I'll write more about The Social Network before its general release next week, but for now, congratulations to the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and here's wishing you a phenomenal opening night.

Jury Duty Which I Actually Enjoyed

Tonight might be the opening of the Seventh Annual Mahindra Indo-American Arts Council Film Festival in New York, but it's a first for me. My friend Payal Sethi (who worked last year at Tribeca with me) is the festival's programmer, and a few weeks ago, she asked if I'd like to be on one of their juries. Of course I said yes. My first festival jury; kicking back to watch some Bollywood; sounds great!

Of course, the seven films I had to watch turned out to not really be traditional Bollywood in the least. In fact, not one of them was a musical. A couple had some songs, but not in the standard song-and-dance number way. But that actually made it all more interesting: to see the kind of Indian cinema that likely doesn't come to mind, at least to those who don't follow it. As I was telling people that I had to watch Indian films all weekend, everybody obviously thought I was subjecting myself (for better or worse -- depends on your perspective, I suppose) to multiple three-plus hour movies filled with flowing saris and lip-synched production numbers.

The jury deliberation experience was an interesting one even though my colleagues and I seemed to mostly agree without too much debate on our selections. I don't feel like I can really say which films I enjoyed the most because that would indicate what won the Best Film and Best Director prizes, so I'll come back to talk about the films in more detail after the winners are announced on Sunday night. The films under consideration for those prizes which I had to watch were Dosar, Frozen, Manorama Six Feet Under, Missed Call, Valley of Flowers, Via Darjeeling and The Voyeurs. (You can buy tickets to any of these films online at meraticket.com.)

I'd encourage you to take a look at the film descriptions and check-out a few of them. The festival also features a large number of short films playing as part of various programs. The most fascinating thing to me about all these films was the various approaches towards stories much like the ones in American mainstream and other Westerncinema. From Manorama's homage to Chinatown to Dosar's almost Sirkian qualities; Valley of Flowers' reminded me in a way of The Fountain while Via Darjeeling utilized its own twist on the consistently mimicked Rashomon-tale. (Yes, I know Rashomon is Japanese! Hence the "consistently mimicked" descriptive phrase.) The Voyeurs creates its own mix of a slice-of-life tale with some "peeping Tom"/Rear Window elements. Frozen, for some reason, had me thinking, "This is what Terrence Malick might shoot if he ever decided to do black & white in the Himalayas." And Missed Call certainly owes a lot to every first-person diary film or, to a degree, mockumentary about young-adult angst and relationships. And yet, all of them have their own specific perspective grounded in the place and the culture from which they come. And not a one has a big dance number, thereby blowing your perception of everything Bollywood, right?

But who am I to tell you: go see for yourself, and next week, you can argue with me over the winning films if you disagree.

TORONTO IN FOCUS: DAY 7 - A DAY LATE, REPORTING FORM NEW YORK

The last 48 hours are a bit of a blur. A full day of movies on Wednesday that ended in total exhaustion, followed by the intent of one final screening Thursday morning that just didn't happen because I was too damn tired. I wish I had actually planned to stay at least one or even two more days to observe some more public screening activity: the Toronto folks have their shit down, if I do say so myself, although I also discovered that, as much as it may be hard for some New Yorkers and Tribeca attendees to believe, we do a much better (or at least comparatable) job than I even thought we did. Toronto has one edge over Tribeca: Canadians, in general, seem to be much calmer and not as complaint-happy as Americans, and Torontonians (is that right?) are certainly not as aggressive as New Yorkers. Plus, they seem to be better trained to get to places on time. I'm just saying ....

Anyway, aside from hopefully getting some individual more detailed review posts, tomorrow I'll do my own version of a Toronto wrap. For now, however, here's the rundown of my last day doing a lot of sitting in dark rooms watching flickering light. So, after the jump, To Love Someone, Chacun son cinéma, L'Amour caché, Very Young Girls and Vixelle.

TORONTO IN FOCUS: DAY 6 - EXHAUSTION MOST DEFINITELY SETTING IN

I have most definitely not "done" the Toronto Film Festival as well as I could, or should, have. I definitely should have prepared more in advance, because then I wouldn't have spent so much time simply trying to figure out what I would and wouldn't be able to make. I've managed to see a hell of a lot, but I haven't always been able to make the complete most of my time. Today, I wound up getting to only three films because after stayng up ridiculously late last night doing some work and writing, I found it impossible to wake-up this morning. When I finally did get going, I had missed the Israeli documentary I had been trying to see virtually the entire time I've been here: Ran Tal's Children of the Sun.

I did get to a trio of films, however, starting with the Indian The Voyeurs from director Buddhadeb Dasgupta and part of Toronto's "Masters" section. Starting with a good premise and reasonably interesting characters, the film devolves into a standard and almost corny "crime drama" involving terrorism and mistaken identity. The point is obviously to critique the police and government, so quick to jump to conclusions even if the evidence isn't truly there. But the film is far more interesting for its first two-thirds when exploring these young characters in Kolkata as they struggle with living, working and gender-interplay, including some very subtle ideas between love and sex, trust and deceit, and the city versus the country. It's quite unfortunate that The Voyeurs doesn't wind-up in as good a place as it begins.

Next came another highlights of the festival for me, Peter Askin's documentary Trumbo, a fascinating exploration of the life and career of Dalton Trumbo, one of the most celebrated blacklisted members of the "Hollywood 10." Askin utilizes a combination of archival footage and recent interviews as well as actor readings of excerpts from many of the writer's letters and works to great effect, painting a portrait of one of the most remarkable writers and artists of the 20th century, not to mention a true hero who never stopped fighting the system that so unfairly tried to throw him away. Here and there, some of the readings go on a bit too long and the film feels a bit more than its 96 minutes, but no matter: Trumbo is an important and, unfortunately, timely documentary that will hopefully have a long life theatrically as well as on TV and video.

Finally, I went to see the Irish film Kings. One of the film's reps announced before the screening that Kings had just been selected as Ireland's submission for Best Foreign Language Film at next year's Oscars. The movie was directed by Tom Collins, who also adapted the script from a play -- and you can tell. It's not a bad movie by any means, but the entire premise, story and character interactions seem like they would work much better -- at least with this script -- in a theatrical setting. Ultimately, the film tries to explore both the strength and fragility of friendship and the meaning of "home" in terms of a place in the world. The film presents six interesting characters, but each is -- as is the case in much theater -- too clear an archetype. These characters share a history and a place, but they are all together in this story so that they can each serve very specific and identifiable purposes with no crossover, leaving virtually no possibility unturned. This isn't necessarily a flaw, but it makes for less interesting viewing. The film is powerful and depressing, and asks some truly interesting questions, but how long any of it will actually sit with me is up for grabs, and if I was a betting man -- which I kind of am -- I wouldn't place too much on it sticking too long.

A full day tomorrow means an attempt to get to sleep now. And in just over 36 hours, I'll be flying home.

TORONTO IN FOCUS: DAY 5 - A DAY CAN'T BE MUCH MORE FULL

I went to six films today, but I only sat through five. One was simply too unbearable, and combine that with the sweltering heat of that particular screening room, there was no way I could stick it out for more than 30 minutes, even though I had no other particular place to go. All-in-all, though, today was a pretty good day for film finds. Brief comments on Blind, Silent Resident, Garage, Dr. Plonk, Love Comes Lately and Glory to the Filmmaker follow:

TORONTO IN FOCUS: DAYS 1-4, WOW AM I WEARY

Something unexpected has taken-up all the time I meant to write while here in Toronto: simply figuring out what the hell I'm going to get to see while here. With the New York Film Festival press screenings starting next week, I'm staying away from all of those big titles, trying to use my time on films I either need to cover for work and/or sound interesting. I also am simply observing different elements of how this Toronto International Film Festival is run: what we do similarly; what we do differently; etc.

I arrived here on Thursday, and over the past four days, I've been going to movies non-stop. Well, almost non-stop. I've spent a couple hours every night simply trying to figure out what to see the next day. Then, I've slept for roughly five hours, until last night when it all caught up to me and I slept through the three alarms I had set, missing the two films I had intended to get to Sunday morning.

No matter: I hope to find time to sit and discuss several of these titles, but for now, and in brief, here's my Toronto-so-far rundown:

MISCELLANEOUS MISCELLANY: WEEKEND NOTES BIG ON THEATRE

I'm having motivational issues, so instead of motivating myself, I think I'll try to motivate anyone who happens by here wondering, "Hmm, what's good in New York that I may not know about this weekend." I'm sure I'm the only person with a blog doing that, so it should come in quite handy.

• Closing this Sunday is The Black Eyed by Betty Shameih. I just caught the show on Tuesday, and although I found the show somewhat uneven with a bit too much preachy statement making here and there, there is more than enough in Shameih's writing and a couple of the performances to recommend catching it. The show looks at four Palestinian women who meet in Limbo, all looking for men in their personal histories who they believe might be behind a secret door with all the other "martyrs." One woman is Delilah (as in "Samson and ..."); also there is Tamam, who suffered brutality at the hands of Crusaders; and then two from the modern era: Aiesha, who grew-up in a Palestinian refugee camp and became a suicide bomber, and a woman known only as The Architect, a Palestinian-American killed on one of the 9/11 flights. Jeanine Serralles' performance as The Architect is reason enough to sit through The Black Eyed mostly brisk 85-odd minutes. Her character begins mostly in the background, but when she takes command of the stage near the end, she is absolutely tremendous, filled with nervous energy and using her movement and voice to absolutely captivate the audience. For me, this was important because while I also enjoyed Emily Swallow as Delilah, I found Lameece Issaq and especially Aysan Celik (as Tamam and Aiesha, respectively) mediocre at best. The play begins and roughly ends with the words "Unanswered questions. Unquestioned answers." Occasionally, Shameih hits us over the head with this theme, but her examinations of violence, faith, violence in the name of faith, female identity and power (or lack of), U.S. imperialism. the Palesitnian struggle combined with diverse opinions about the best way to solve it -- depicted most specifically between Aiesha and The Architect -- are generally fascinating and well-handled. Only when Shameih becomes a bit too polemical and do the lines sound like parts of a speech from a protest rally do things get tedious, but not so much to completely undermine the show. If you can get to New York Theater Workshop in the East Village and in to see it (my performance on Tuesday was sold out), it would be well worth your time.
  

• Frost/Nixon, a fascinating look at the behind-the-scenes goings-on of David Frost's famous interview with Richard Nixon in 1977, also closes on Sunday. Written by Peter Morgan (also screenwriter of The Queen and The Last King of Scotland), the show brought Frank Langella a very-well-deserved Tony Award for his moving, sympathetic and riveting portrayal of the only American president to ever resign from office. The play is fascinating not because of how it recreates segments of these very famous interviews, but rather due to its incisive examination of not only a tragic plummet from power into -- and then eventually, even sadder, out of -- self-delusion as well as, and even more impressively, a wonderful look at the power of television. In 1977, a full 17 years after the Kennedy/Nixon televised debate that had its own impact on that presidential election, the true reach and influence of television as a forum and its strength and differences from older media such as radio and newspapers was still not fully recognized. For a piece of theater to do such a great job showing it is marvelous. Four performances left: get there if you can. And if you can't, oh well ... Ron Howard will be directing Langella and Michael Sheen (starring in the show as Frost) in a feature version for next year. I'm not sure whether that's necessarily a good thing, though.

CMJ: IT'S NOT JUST MUSIC, YOU KNOW

As throngs of musicians check-in at Lincoln Center and downtown music fans start planning the best way to hit five venues a night through Saturday and survive on only a few hours sleep, it's important for this space to make note of that other, smaller, but no less fun part of the CMJ Music Marathon, namely the CMJ Film Fest. The Film Fest regularly does its best to present a combination of music-themed films as well as regular motion pictures that, for lack of a better description, would be most appreciated by the CMJ audience. I have to say, that while they always seem to get a few decent titles here or there, the program of screenings this year seems, better than ever, to truly satisfy that goal.

This year's Film Fest program kicks-off tonight with what must be the most anticipated comedy of the fall: Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, Sacha Baron Cohen's big screen transformation of his hysterically politically incorrect Kazakhstanian "journalist." The film received raves at the Toronto Film Festival, and people who've seen it have told me that it's not just brilliantly funny, but also quite tasteless. Sure you can wait until Friday when it opens nationwide, but Borat himself will be on hand at tonight's Film Fest screening.

If there is a second most anticipated comedy of the fall, it's probably Tenacious D in "The Pick of Destiny", with Jack Black and Kyle Gass teaming up as their legendary greatest rock band in the world to create, finally, "the greatest motion picture of all time." (Screens on Friday at 12 PM at the DGA Theater on 57th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues.)

Other big name studio films getting advance screenings at Film Fest are Reno 911! Miami, in which the cops from the Comedy Central TV series must save the day at a Miami police convention threatened by a terrorist attack (let's call it, Police Academy for the 21st Century); Stranger Than Fiction (screens Thursday at 5:30 PM at Tribeca Cinemas), which looks fantastic in a Charlie Kaufman/Spike Jonze sort of way but unfortunately is directed by Marc Forster; and Darren Aronofsky's long-awaited Fountain of Youth sci-fi drama, The Fountain (Thursday at 4 PM at the Walter Reade).

Music fans get some direct concert and documentary footage in two titles both showing on Saturday at the DGA Theater. At noon is Okonokos, a movie featuring the band My Morning Jacket live. As great as My Morning Jacket is recorded, the buzz has always been that they're an even better live band, and this film finally gives the rest of a chance to see. Following at 2 PM will be Oasis -- Lord Don't Slow Me Down, a documentary which follows Oasis on its seven month "Don't Believe the Truth" tour. After the screening, Noel Gallagher will be on hand for a Q&A session moderated by Matt Pinfield.

And then come the rest ... a nice selection of more indie-minded fare and special programs including Perfume: The Story of a Murderer (Thursday at 1 PM at the Walter Reade), a cool looking thriller from the director of Run Lola Run and Fuck (screening tomorrow at 3:15 PM at the Walter Reade), Steve Anderson's documentary exploring all the meanings, connotations and usage of yours and my favorite word.

One special video-related program of interest takes place at MoMA on Thursday and Friday: Chuck Statler: Before MTV will feature a collection of clips in a retrospective of the innovative music oriented filmmaker's work. At the 8 PM screening on Thursday, Statler will be in attendance for a discussion and q&a session as well.

Film Fest has always flown a bit under the radar at CMJ. It's easy, no matter what the titles are, to be overshadowed by, as the Music Marathon boasts, 120 non-stop hours of music. If you have a CMJ badge, attendance is easy ... show up (maybe a little early), and you get in. This year for the first time, CMJ also sold a badge at a discounted rate for Film Fest events only -- $50 for unlimited attendance; $25 for five screenings. These passes can be purchased at CMJ Registration at Lincoln Center starting today. Individual tickets may be available at the venue box offices before the screening.

NY FILM FESTIVAL: THE HOST -- MUCH MORE THAN JUST A MONSTER MOVIE

(This post began as a continuation of the previous one, hence the oh-so-eloquent flow, or rather, the reference to something not included in this same entry.)

It shouldn’t actually come as much of a surprise that the best film so far critiquing the current state of the world and particularly our country’s involvement in the Middle East has nothing to do with Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, Syria, Israel or the Palestinians and is not directed by some American left-wing liberal. In fact, part of the reason that The Host (which screened last weekend and Magnolia Pictures will distribute some time later this year) is such a good analysis of this international state of affairs is because while not being subtle in the least, the film's story and soul focuses not on some larger incident but rather on the experiences and reactions of one family at the heart of it all.

In this way, The Host is quite similar to Pan's Labyrinth. In addition to creating an emotional and humanistic tale at the center of a politically themed argument, Bong Joon-ho's film also places a young girl at the center, in a hero's role, trying to fight tremendous forces that are actually beyond her or anyone's control. But shared on an even deeper and more thematic level is this statement of not blindly following authority, of thoughtfulness, of questioning everything, even those things that scare us, particularly in the form of a government.

The Host begins in a South Korean lab where an American military scientist orders his Korean assistant to pour a ridiculously large amount of toxic chemicals down the drain in the sink simply because the bottles are dusty. The assistant argues that this drain leads to the Han River, a major tributary running through the center of Seoul, but his boss doesn't care, and down the drain the bottles go. Two years later, a couple locals fishing in the Han see a small creature unlike any fish they've ever seen. They catch it, but when it scares them, it escapes. Four years later, we meet the Park family – patriach and food kiosk owner Hie-bong (Byeon Hie-bong), his lazy, slacker son Gang-du (Song Kang-ho), and Gang-du's smart, older-than-her-years daughter Hyun-seo (Ko A-sung). While people are enjoying a sunny Seoul day outside, the Parks watch Gang-du's sister Nam-joo (Bae Doo-na) compete on TV – she's a champion archer. The pleasant day is interrupted, however, when people start to eye something weird hanging from a bridge and then diving into the water. This something winds up being a mutated monster which can also hop up on land, swatting people around and eating them at will. When Gang-du carelessly loses his daughter in the chaos, he sees that the monster has capture her, and with the help of his family -- which also includes college graduate and alcoholic Nam-il (Park Hae-il) – he's determined to get her back.

NY FILM FESTIVAL: PAN'S LABYRINTH -- MAGICAL REALISM MIXED WITH RATIONAL FANTASY FOR A MAGNIFICENT CONCOCTION AND ONE OF THE BEST FILMS OF THE YEAR

(This post began as a continuation of the previous one, hence the oh-so-eloquent flow, or rather, the reference to something not included in this same entry.)

Even as difficult as it is for me to say that I liked or disliked Inland Empire, it is quite simple for me to shout hosannas expressing my immense love for and awe in both Korean director Bong Joon-ho's phenomenal The Host and Guillermo del Toro's post-Spanish Civil War fantasy fable Pan's Labyrinth, which screens this Sunday evening as the NYFF's closing night film and Picturehouse will release in theaters on Dec. 29. Del Toro is best known to American audiences as the man behind Hellboy and Blade II. I didn't love either of those, but at least they helped me forget the god-awful Mimic. None of those films, however, prepared me for his much smaller but more emotional and interesting The Devil's Backbone, which I only finally saw recently. And yet, none of his work at all has come close to the major achievement of Pan's Labyrinth.

Told through the eyes of 11 year old Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), del Toro's film puts a gleam in the eye while touching the soul. Although the story takes place against the backdrop of a very specific period of history -- near the end of World War II as Spanish revolutionaries continue to try to fight against Franco's fascist regime even though the Spanish Civil War "officially" ended five years earlier -- the themes themselves are universal. Innocence and thoughtful disobedience are the subjects with which del Toro concerns himself and us, and he does so by taking us into a world (or multiple worlds, in fact) that are simultaneously enchanting and horrific, exciting and monstrous. Not unlike Lynch's fluid shiftings of realities, Pan's Labyrinth presents us with a real world and a fantastic one only seen and experienced by Ofelia. As the story continues, these two realms begin to intersect more and more, but even when they converge completely for Ofelia in the end, they still remain separate for the rest of us.