Zhao Dayong’s quietly stunning documentary about life in a remote Chinese mountain village will get a series of much-deserved public screenings at venues nationwide over the next few weeks, starting with the Museum of Modern Art on Monday, March 15. Screening dates and locations are listed below.

Click here to read my interview with Zhao, which ran in conjunction with the film’s U.S. premiere at last year’s New York Film Festival, and here for GHOST TOWN’s page at dGenerate Films.

Monday, March 15 - Saturday, March 21: MoMA, NYC

Saturday, April 3 - Sunday, April 4: Union Theater, University of Wisconsin, Madison, WI

Thursday, April 8: Southwest Film Center, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, NM

Saturday, April 17: part of two-day event “China In and Beyond the Headlines,” University of Colorado, Boulder, CO

Tuesday, April 27: Melnitz Movies, James Bridges Theater, UCLA, Los Angeles, CA

— Nelson Kim

Whenever March 1st arrives, I can’t help but have the following thought: not only am I lucky to be alive, I am so-so very-very lucky-lucky to be me-me-me. For at no other time of year do my most cherished personal taste buds converge so mightily as they do in the weeks between mid-March and mid-April.

First up is something everyone can appreciate: the return of spring. All it takes is that first warm, bird chirpy morning to make my Seasonal Affective Disorder disappear in a blink, like it hadn’t just been dragging me down for the past several months (i.e., forever). It’s as if my nagging SAD, as well as the winter season itself, looked at each other late one night, shrugged, and hopped on a red-eye back to the North Pole or wherever they go to twiddle their thumbs until next winter, leaving me behind to bask in the magic realization that, all of a sudden, all that pent up wintry internal pressure is just gone. It never ceases to amaze me.

Second up is something fewer can appreciate: March Madness. While I’ve progressively begun to care less and less about professional sports, my affinity for college basketball, and especially this particular time of the season, is alive and thriving. Conference tournaments, leading into Selection Sunday, which in turn kicks off a giddy week of studying the brackets and fantasizing about the excitement to come… if you don’t get it, you never will. Thankchristfully for me, I do.

Third up is something even fewer get to experience: South by Southwest in Austin, Texas. For me, it’s all about the film festival, which champions the best in low-budget American independent cinema but is also well rounded in seemingly every other way (nonfiction, world cinema, genre films, etc.). By the second weekend, although movies are still being shown, the music festival has swallowed the city, creating an even more visceral opportunity to absorb some of the freshest new pop culture on the planet (and make the terminal ringing in my ears even louder). Combine this with the reality that in sports bars everywhere, March Madness is occupying every screen… all I can say to those of you have seen me in action the past several years and were convinced I was having a powder party up my nose, I wasn’t. I just find it hard to contain myself when experiencing the gold rush that is SXSW and its surrounding elements: spring weather, good music, great movies, and college freaking basketball!

And then there’s the Alamo Drafthouse, which is its own form of Heaven On Earth. Don’t even get me started on Tim League’s glorious institution. I can’t promise many things in life, but I can guarantee you that between March 12th and 19th, the following items will be saying WHAT’S UP, DADDY? to my stomach: multiple draft beers, several large tubs of buttered popcorn, a chicken strip basket, a chocolate milkshake, BBQ wings, and much more.

Then there’s St. Patrick’s Day. As my father is from Ireland (County Galway, represent), I should be happy that this overlaps with SXSW every year, but in reality, all this holiday does is gaudily constipate Austin’s already busy enough streets by tossing green clothing and raucous vomit into the mix. It’s like 6th St. becomes the obnoxious set of a low-rent House of Pain video.

The 2010 SXSW Film Festival promises to be a memorable one, as evidenced by a quick glance at the meaty schedule. I have already seen 28 of the feature films, and I am happy/surprised to say that I would recommend just about all of them (to varying degrees, of course). Shamefully, I appear to have only seen two of the shorts—Andrew Goldman and Andrew Blackwell’s Bikini Lighters and Bobby Miller’s TUB—but they are both excellent and worth your time. There are at least 20 more features that are very high on my list, and since I’m staying through Friday this year, I plan to see those 20 and hopefully several more. For now, let me try to wrap my brain around the films I have seen to help those of you out who are hoping to wrassle this program to the ground…

MY PERSONAL FAVORITES

Last Train Home
Trash Humpers
Four Lions
The Red Chapel
His & Hers

WORLD PREMIERES THAT I HAVE SEEN AND THOROUGHLY RECOMMEND

NY Export: Opus Jazz (Co-director/cinematographer Jody Lee Lipes quoted me describing this majestic beauty as “Elephant meets West Side Story” and I’m sticking to that. Mark my words, you won’t see a more beautiful film at SXSW this year.)

Tiny Furniture (Full disclosure: I have only seen an early cut of this film and expect it to be even better in its finished version. With it, the absurdly young Lena Dunham has made a gargantuan artistic leap forward. But don’t listen to me. Listen to the reviews as they start to roll in.)

11/4/08 (I am scrambling to get a full review of curator—NOT director—Jeff Deutchman’s provocative cinematic experiment written before I land in Austin, but in case that doesn’t happen, I wanted to make sure that it doesn’t get lost in the shuffle.)

OTHER FILMS THAT HAVE SCREENED ELSEWHERE AND ARE WORTH YOUR TIME IN SOME WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM

Cyrus
Dogtooth
The Freebie
Life 2.0
On the Other Side of Life
Putty Hill
Winter’s Bone

AN ALL-TIME GREAT WITH SOME ADDED FLAVOR

The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, Denmark, 1928) — As much as I want to see this film on the big screen with a live musical accompaniment by In the Nursery, I don’t know if that’s fair to the other films in the festival. I think it would be incredibly hard to hop into a low-budget American indie after re-experiencing what is, without question, one of cinema’s most towering achievements.

AN INTERESTING COMPANION PIECE TO JOSH FOX’S GASLAND

Haynesville: A Nation’s Relentless Hunt For Energy (Gregory Kallenberg, USA, 2010) — Movies always come in twos, but in this case, Gregory Kallenberg is facing an uphill battle against Josh Fox’s throbbingly vital GasLand. That said, I actually think Haynesville makes for a valuable complement to that more incendiary film, if only to see just how complicated the developing natural gas situation in our country actually is. Removing people who light the water streaming out of their kitchen sinks on fire just by putting a match up to it! from the equation, Kallenberg’s film examines the situation from many sides, showing those who are benefiting from this modern day gold rush yet not in an exploitative way. I’ve been thinking about which film would be better to watch first, and right now I’m leaning towards Haynesville. One thing I will say, just because you’ve seen one of them doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see the other.

YOU HAVE BEEN FOREWARNED

Red, White & Blue (Simon Rumley, UK, 2010) — A month removed from Rotterdam and I’m even less sure how I feel about Simon Rumley’s punishing Red, White & Blue, which recalls Bruno Dumont’s Twentynine Palms in more ways than one. File this under “non-American director puts his own warped spin on what life is like in the good ol’ US of A.” One thing’s for sure. Though Red, White & Blue gets shockingly twisted, this isn’t mere torture porn. Rumley uses an elliptical editing style that keeps viewers off-balance throughout and makes his film feel artful even when everything else about it screams schlock genre. Rumley definitely drills his casting—at least with regards to his two main leads. Noah Taylor and Amanda Fuller don’t just look the part. They are the part. Though I am still scratching my head about Marc Senter, whose own performance is so campy that I can’t tell if this was intentional (good David Lynch) or unintentional (bad David Lynch). Even if you like it, Red, White & Blue will make you feel gross. And if you don’t, it’ll make you feel really gross.

NOT IN AUSTIN? THAT’S OKAY!

For those of you who aren’t attending SXSW but want to get a taste of what we’ll be watching, Cinetic FilmBuff and IFC Films have a very solid slate of VOD-ready titles ready for the taking. FilmBuff’s picks, which are available on iTunes and AmazonVOD, are two very different, though equally strong, examples of UK cinema: Justin Molotnikov’s comic thriller Crying With Laughter and David Bond’s provocative documentary Erasing David. I dug both of these films and think they’re perfect fits for this frisky approach to distribution. As they did last year, IFC Films is returning with their “Direct From SXSW” OnDemand series (available beginning 3/12). I am a very big fan of Bryan Poyser’s Lovers of Hate, so if you only pick one film to see, I urge it to be that. While I haven’t yet caught up with Shane Meadows’s Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee or Emmett Malloy’s The White Stripes: Under the Great White Northern Lights, I am interested in both (though I’m way more excited about the Meadows). As a bonus treat, two well received American indies from SXSW 2009, Jon Bryant’s The Overbrook Brothers and Daryl Wein’s Breaking Upwards, are also yours for the taking.

16 FILMS I AM EXCITED TO SEE

Cold Weather
No Crossover: The Trial of Allen Iverson
The Oath
Enter the Void (I have been avoiding Gaspar Noe’s latest shocktacle for as long as I can but I’m now confident that seeing this at midnight at SXSW is the perfect way to stab my cherry into shredded pieces.)
Leaves of Grass
Earthling
The Myth of the American Sleepover
Phillip the Fossil
The Canal Street Madam
Audrey the Trainwreck
Mars
Passenger Pigeons
Taqwacore
SATURDAY NIGHT
The Weird World of Blowfly
Jimmy Tupper Vs. The Goatman of Bowie (While I have an affinity for urban legends, I’m more attracted to this movie because I lived in Bowie, Maryland, until I was eight years old!)

As you can see, we’ve all got a lot to chew on. So start chewing…

— Michael Tully

After last month’s open call in which we suggested readers submit their own Netflix Hidden Gems titles, we were quite pleased to receive this fine list from the filmmaking duo Playa516. If you too have a stack of Netflixable titles that you think are overlooked, or if you are inspired to make your own creative playlist the way the cool kids used to make mix tapes, send ‘em to this address: clinkAThammertonailDOTcom. Up first, a brief biography of our esteemed guests, followed by this month’s edition of Netflix Hidden Gems…

Playa516 is the nom de guerre of the writing/directing/producing team of Benjamin Cummings & Orson Cummings whose last feature was If I Didn’t Care (which can be found on Netflix under its alternative title, Blue Blood). The Hitchcockian noir, set and shot on location in The Hamptons, was the last film of the great Roy Scheider. Their work can be viewed on their website: www.playa516.com. They are presently at work on their follow up feature.

***ISSUE #7: MARCH ‘10***

A Shock To The System (1990) — Graham (Michael Caine) is a murderous advertising executive whose nagging wife (Swoosie Kurtz) won’t stop reminding him of his failures in this 1990 film that slipped under the radar most likely due to its intensely dark humor. When he accidentally commits a little murder, Graham is not punished, but rather his life and career are energized; not a message for the masses but hilarious and gripping. Unforgettable are Graham’s tete-a-tetes with the detective trying to catch him in a slip up, played by the great Will Patton. Their encounters are delicate dances that both of these heavyweight actors clearly relish.

The Twilight Samurai (2002) — Huge in Japan and nominated for Best Foreign Language Film, this is not the type of picture to garner much hype in America. Unlike most Samurai movies, it is not dominated by action but rather tells the tale of the everyday life of a poor, dirty, smelly and terribly unlucky low ranking Samurai. He works a boring job, is a good man who avoids conflict, and takes care of his ill mother and young daughters. Delicate scenes that would be instantly tedious in the hands of a mediocre director are somehow intensely compelling when handled by the master Yoji Yamada. But fear not, as the slow pacing will carefully build and lead to the encounter all fans of Samurai pictures crave; even if this one involves a bit of sitting around and talking while blood spills from open wounds. ***STREAM IT***

The Chocolate War (1988) — Keith Gordon’s surrealistic debut about the tough road faced by an anti-conformist was criticized for playing with the book’s ending and not delivering the author’s intent. But films cannot be slaves to their sources and the ending here is sufficiently complex. The plot revolves around a student’s dilemma when he refuses to follow orders and sell chocolates for the school. The secret society known as “The Vigils” is brought in to squash the rebellion. The music of the ’80s is a key layer, ending with memorable use of Kate Bush’s “Running Up That Hill”. Like many great films, this one is dominated by the villain, Archie (Wallace Langham), an intellectual heavyweight who raises his nefarious deeds to the level of art as the leader of the Vigils’ campaign to reek havoc on the psyche of the rebel.

Elevator To The Gallows (1957) — As the great era of the film noir gets further and further behind us, classics like Double Indemnity or Touch Of Evil remain on best ever lists while lesser knowns are in danger of slipping away. In my campaign to watch them all, one that stayed with me is this 1957 Louis Malle classic. It follows the noir template: a bad decision and fate trap man in a web from which there is no escape. In this case it’s a faulty elevator that literally does the trapping. But this gem has two special elements: the visage of Jeanne Moreau and a score from Miles Davis that jazz critic Phil Johnson called “the loneliest trumpet sound you will ever hear and the model for sad-score music ever since. Hear it and weep.” Indeed. ***STREAM IT***

Groove: Requiem in the Key of Ski (1991) — This is quite simply the greatest ski film—no, not just ski but extreme sports film—ever made. It rises above the genre into the realm of art film with a political edge. The best athletes (Laird Hamilton windsurfing at 30knots with Iggy Pop belting out “Butt Town”), a sublime soundtrack ranging from Seal before anyone had heard of him to Ice-T, and a phenomenal show-stopping final segment of extreme off-piste skiing and boarding in the mountains of Alaska. The film asks: If the world is at war and falling apart, what should one do? Work for political change? Or disappear into the snow or surf and live a simple life enjoying the beauty of nature? There is no easy answer, though the Vietnam vet chopper pilot who ferries the athletes to the top of an Alaskan mountain long ago made his decision. (Special Note: The film no longer has its original soundtrack after Mr. Stump ran into some legal problems with regard to licensing.)

The Rachel Papers (1989) — Based upon the Martin Amis novel, this is a film about a precocious English lad, Charles Highway (Dexter Fletcher), who uses all his intellectual and technological prowess to woo women of all stripes. He falls for an American played by Ione Skye in her only real role other than Say Anything and falls in love with her. But old habits die hard. Will true love survive Charles’s persnickety attitude? Featuring performances from many notable names before they got big: James Spader, Jonathan Pryce and Michael Gambon. A great soundtrack and smooth, stylized imagery add to the potent mix.

Vernon, Florida (1981) — This is one of Oscar winning documentarian Errol Morris’s early films. He set out to meet and film the residents of Vernon, who, he had learned, had become known for severing their own digits and then filing insurance claims on the injuries. The film evolved to be about the town in general: a turkey hunter forever on the prowl, a couple who ‘grow’ sand in jars, a policeman who mans a speed trap where no one is ever in a hurry. Totally surreal and utterly gripping. ***STREAM IT***

Suture (1993) — In one of the great surrealistic Bunuelian casting ploys, half-brothers Clay (Dennis Haysbert - black) and Vincent (Michael Harris - white) approach one another and one says to the other: “Isn’t it remarkable how much we look alike?” No, they don’t, of course. But everyone else pretends they do, which is audacious and sets the tone for this psychological thriller/noir directed by Scott McGhee and David Siegel. The plot is a fun one in which one brother attempts to get away with the murder of their father, whilst pinning the crime on his sibling. It involves classic suspense elements of amnesia and a case of mistaken identity. It’s shot in black-and-white, is slick and smart, and oozes style and suspense.

Car Wash (1976) — With appearances by Richard Prior, George Carlin and Professor Irwin Corey, Car Wash is routinely thought of as a lightweight comedy. It’s funny, yes, but it’s also so much more, capturing a day-in-the-life of minorities in America (not unlike Do the Right Thing). The Hispanic, African American (and one homosexual) crew of the car wash experience what it is like to be a minority and under-employed at a menial job at a white-owned business. What begins as funny and lighthearted during the sunny LA morning becomes darker and increasingly dramatic after the sun sets. Great music, including the famous disco title track, lend a great deal to the proceedings. ***STREAM IT***

Rififi (1955) Yes, Rififi is acknowledged as a gem but do the kids really rent it today? They should because it invented the heist film and even though, yes, it is in French, subtitles don’t matter when the 30-minute set heist set piece has NO DIALOGUE, a tour-de-force that still enthralls as the criminals ply their trade in real time. It is also notable as the work of an American directer, Jules Dassin, working in France, where censorship was not the issue it was in the States during that period. As for the ending, well, it’s French and it’s Noir. Need we say more?

The Vanishing (1988) — Not the remake (1993, starring Jeff Bridges), but the original adaptation of the novel, The Golden Egg, as directed by George Sluizer. The film tells the story of a man obsessed with finding out what happened to his girlfriend, who disappears one day when they innocently stop for gas on a trip. His desire to know what happened leads him toward a fate of Greek proportions. The Vanishing does not, like most pictures of this genre, wait to reveal the identity of the kidnapper in a zinger at the end. Rather, he is introduced about halfway through the film, a choice that ironically provides much more suspense. All pictures must be judged by their endings, and rest assured this is one you will not forget (and one much too audacious to be found in the studio remake). It might very well cost you a few night’s sleep. ***STREAM IT***

Cinequest Film Festival just wrapped up its 20th anniversary celebration in San Jose, the hub of Silicon Valley, a city which sleeps but wakes to an early alarm. This year’s festival was held from February 23 to March 7 across a few square blocks of well-managed venues, offering as many as six simultaneous screens and none of them a stinker. I have premiered three features at Cinequest in as many years [ed. note: This year's film was Babnik], so it’s important to note that I’m reporting as a filmmaker and not a critic.

Incidentally, I’m not the only filmmaker loyal to Cinequest when it comes time to premiere. This year Daniel Kraus premiered Professor, the third film in his promising Work Series, of which I’ve seen only the first installment, Sheriff (also a Cinequest premiere). Noel Murray of The Onion AV Club called Sheriff “almost as good as any documentary [Wiseman] has made,” which confirms that my raving about the film six years after seeing it at Cinequest is not somehow aberrant. Kraus has a gift for finding tucked-away subjects who grow to epic proportions under his unrelenting gaze. His camera interrogates the appeal of charismatic personalities, leaving us to wonder whether we’re “supposed” to like these people. Hey, I was charmed by Idi Amin Dada in Schroeder’s film—removing a personage from any historico-political context is what separates an authentic verite documentary from conventional journalism. Kraus has a great deal of palpable certainty in his methodology—riveting stuff. Professor earned a scarce encore screening slot at CQ20 as a result of audience voting, so expect to find this one burning up the fest circuit in coming months.

Andrew James premiered Una Vida Mejor at Cinequest in 2008 and returned this year with Cleanflix, which premiered at Toronto. James is becoming a figure of sorts—an unassuming sophisticated liberal from Utah who gently challenges the Mormon community and conservative social values in general. Cleanflix charts the rise and fall and rise and fall of several family-minded enterprises which removed objectionable bits from DVD editions of Hollywood films during the aughts. James’s documentary certainly critiques the business practices and general self-righteousness of the LDS-affiliated individuals behind these ventures, but when he offers excerpted “offensive” elements out of context (from The Big Lebowski and Sin City among others), it’s nearly impossible not to cringe, and that cringe serves an implicit point: these Mormons aren’t nuts to register shock here and there. Of course we also see the technical and aesthetic ineptitude represented by the bowdlerized versions of said scenes, and the good idea in theory becomes a laughable idea in practice. Cleanflix veers into juicy subplots that would be crass and exploitive in the hands of a less scrupulous documentarian. This distinct lack of hostility toward its subjects might help the film find an audience among the very people it represents. James explained that his brother’s involvement in the Mormon community provides a useful barometer: “I think they’re ready to see it,” he said.

Another CQ veteran is Larry Levine, whose first feature Territory came to San Jose in 2005. Levine loved Cinequest so much, he told me, that he didn’t hesitate when looking for a festival to premiere his latest, Gabi on the Roof in July. Taking a cue from Silicon Valley Metro critic Richard von Busack, I asked Levine if Gabi bore any intentional resemblance to Rohmer’s work. “Yeah, even the title is inspired by Rohmer,” he said. I trotted to the screening with my date, who navigated rain puddles as best she could in impractical shoes. Well, taking a new flame to a film that is disconcertingly savvy about relationships is not always the best idea. Result: kinda-whispered outbursts through clenched teeth and, later, uncomfortable self-examination. Plenty of sensitive, convincing scenes here. I’ll add that talking with Levine over drinks about a scene in Rohmer’s Le rayon vert is one of the most rewarding encounters I’ve had at a film festival. Gabi navigates our post-mumblecore moment with aplomb, though some viewers dismissed it as more of the same: handheld video close-ups of self-indulgent young people reveling in ill-defined relationships while playing classic board games—though now I think I’ve gone from defining “mumblecore” to defining “hipster.” In any case, some viewers were allergic to Gabi on principle.

A couple of other CQ20 films pejoratively referred to as “mumblecore” were Exit 117 and Bummer Summer, neither of which I saw. I did catch the premiere of Hell is Other People, which, like Gabi, will survive the mumblecore inoculation.  Hell offers up the pariah Morty, whom director Jarrod Whaley described as a distillation of all the things we don’t like about other people (i.e., ourselves). Morty certainly is that, but there’s something lovable about this character as embodied by Richard Johnson, blinking uncomprehendingly behind smudged glasses, and this creates a compelling tension in the film: when Morty uses his loser superpowers to weasel out of paying a bill, it’s almost unwatchably humiliating. What Whaley brings to the post-mumblecore moment is actual writing, a script replete with memorable one-liners (“It’s my fault you got better” is worthy of a hand-wringing Woody Allen character).  The sincere, contemplative aspects of Hell is Other People are dangerously complemented by unself-conscious bawdiness—the film opens with a loud fart. Like the writing of Kafka and Rabelais, Hell is Other People is more filling than its maker wants you to think it is. This is an archaic form of craftiness that, like the patiently staggered opening credits, adds a layer of unanticipated charm. On reflection the titular reference to Sartre assures us that our discomfort with ourselves is always there; Whaley is merely adept at punching the bruise.

International fare at Cinequest 20 was all over the map, as it were. Films such as Starring Maja and Prima Primavera were effortless crowd-pleasers, the latter making its intentions explicit with a “funny hats” montage. A beach-cottage holiday facilitates madness in the deftly edited Argentine thriller Green Waters, which nearly equals Polanski at his peak. Heiran unforgivingly charts the marriage of an Iranian peasant and an Afghan refugee—parents, grandparents and immigration officials know how this cursed union will end, but that doesn’t make the tragic final image any less effective.

Lost Persons Area, directed by Belgian first-timer Caroline Strubbe, might be the best film I’ve discovered at a festival. It was named best first feature at CQ20 and, incidentally, earned a critics’ prize at Cannes last year. Strubbe was unable to travel to San Jose but she caught me raving about her film across various social media platforms last week and added me as a friend on Facebook, following up with a lovely personal letter. The film’s producer, Tomas Leyers, thanked me via Twitter. A few days later I received a warm message from Hungarian leading man Uldi Hajdu, who had attended the first Cinequest screening and meekly took questions from a stunned crowd. There’s something about Cinequest at the institutional level that facilitates such easy connections, and I value that greatly.

But every film festival is a battleground as well, inevitably pitting sharply defined aesthetics and ideologies against one another. The Gabi on the Roof in July filmmakers began their Q&A by outlining their improvisational actor-centered methodology before anyone asked a question. Later that night in my own Q&A I expressed gratitude for the donated locations and volunteer talent in my latest no-budget epic. The director of world premiering Blue Ridge had attended both of those screenings and seemed to be calling us out the following morning in his otherwise mellow Q&A. He had shot his film in 16mm on an old Aaton, he explained at length. Such details gave way to a lecture about writing an actual script and hiring union talent. Furthermore, he said that he’d worked on plenty of digital productions and no one seemed to take such projects seriously. “With film, when you start the camera, money is being spent,” he said. “And that creates a seriousness on set.” His tone was pedagogical. I leaned over to the critic beside me and said, “If that’s the kind of energy he wants on set, more power to him.” In the end, of course, there’s no right answer—or, rather, there’s no wrong answer. Each film should write its own rules. I certainly don’t want to spend twelve days watching films that closely resemble my own. And thanks to the improbable breadth of programming at Cinequest, I don’t have to.

— Alejandro Adams

In honor of that putrid spectacle that I didn’t, in fact, watch this past Sunday night (yes, I’m patting myself on the back with both of my stuck-up hands), two Best Picture nominees are being released on home video this week. Sharp thinking, Lionsgate and Paramount. While I’m neither ashamed nor proud to admit that I still haven’t seen Up in the Air (buy it on DVD or Blu-ray), I am still reeling from having caught Precious: Based On The Novel “Push” By Sapphire (buy it on DVD or Blu-ray) when it first premiered all the way back in January 2009 at the Sundance Film Festival. One year, and an unexpected amount of lavish praise and attention later, my opinion of that divisive spectacle remains more yay than nay. It’s a tonal mess, and it often plays like a dated movie-of-the-week, but it has a sincerity—and one legendary performance (yes, you, Mo’Nique)—that makes me ultimately say, “I’ll grant you this one, Lee Daniels, but watch yourself, buddy.” More importantly, here are some more new DVDs for the taking. Truth be told, these aren’t coming with the highest recommendations, but they at the very least appear to be worth adding to your Netflix queue:

The Memory Thief (7th Art/Walking Shadows) — Often, when a film starts strong but runs out of gas by the end, its shortcomings will seem magnified in retrospect, even as its virtues seem proportionately reduced. So it is with The Memory Thief. I haven’t been recommending the movie to friends since I saw it. But thinking about it weeks later, I’m still impressed by its thematic ambition, its conceptual originality, and the grim integrity with which the story plays out. It’s a bold, serious, and in many ways accomplished debut. Read the rest of Nelson Kim’s review, then buy it on DVD.

Tapeheads (MGM) — I have absolutely no recollection of this one—which hopefully says more about me than the movie itself—but I’m interested to find out if my memory of Bill Fishman’s wacky comedy is blacked out for a reason. That said, John Cusack and Tim Robbins back in 1988? How bad could it be? Buy it on DVD.

The Who: The Kids Are Alright (Sanctuary Records) — Another one that I know I’ve watched but don’t remember. Man, I’m on point this week! Buy it on Blu-ray.

Gigante (Film Movement) — This is one of those movies that I genuinely wanted to see but missed at every opportunity for some reason. A supermarket security guard becomes infatuated with a janitor. Where will all this lead? Probably not to true love, but perhaps I’ve watched too much Lifetime Movie Network. Buy it on DVD.

Capitalism: A Love Story (Starz/Anchor Bay) — I remember back when I would have been first in line to see the new Michael Moore call-to-arms on opening day, but those days have taken a seemingly indefinite hiatus. Still, I do want to see Moore’s treatise on the economic crisis and see how digestible he makes it. Buy it on DVD or Blu-ray.

The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day (Sony Pictures) — I still don’t understand the phenomenon surrounding this franchise but apparently it’s a phenomenon so I’m including it here. How’s that for a hot recommendation. Buy it on DVD or Blu-ray.

What Definitely Not To Watch

(White on Rice runs from March 12th-18th exclusively at BIG Cinemas Manhattan (formerly the Imaginasian; 259 E. 59th St.) alongside Children of Invention. It also opens in Atlanta, Georgia at the Cinefest Theater from March 15th-21st. For more info, visit the film’s official website.)

RELEASING “RICE” – REFLECTIONS ON THE IN-PROGRESS SELF DISTRIBUTION OF WHITE ON RICE, PART TWO

(If you haven’t already, read Part One right here.)

“CHOOSING” YOUR THEATERS

I always love it whenever a moviegoer says “Why didn’t you put your movie in such-and-such a theater? That one is way better!”

You don’t always get your first choice. In fact, you rarely ever do. But, as Dylan likes to say, “we fight onward…” Variance almost always got the best possible option for a little indie like Rice, though we sometimes sweated bullets as we waited for confirmation. Oftentimes, the big theater chains won’t confirm indie titles until a few weeks before an open slot—leaving very little time for a local marketing push.

With White on Rice, we made a conscious decision to seek out more mainstream multiplex theaters. The movie appeals to a fairly broad range of people, including younger teens and families, so it seemed like the logical choice. Also, the art houses seem to be so jam-packed all year round while the multiplexes often play the same film on 2 or more screens. We ended up playing at a wide variety of theaters both corporate and indie.

Our opening weekend was an interesting case study. We opened at one art house theater in Los Angeles (Laemmle’s Sunset 5) and a multiplex in Orange County (Edward’s Irvine Spectrum 21).

Going into that weekend, I fully expected to get creamed in Orange County. I was genuinely scared. The OC is such a huge place, and so suburban that I was almost positive that our unusual low-budget marketing would go unnoticed. LA was home to a lot of family and friends, not to mention the cast and crew—I totally thought that they would at least bail us out if the film failed to catch on.

In the end, Orange County outgrossed Los Angeles. More significantly, the OC grosses grew throughout the weekend, indicating that word-of-mouth was spreading. Los Angeles had an okay opening night gross, and died shortly thereafter.

What was the lesson? I don’t know. It’s quite possible that the very indie Laemmle’s Sunset 5 was just a wrong fit for our movie—in contrast that same weekend, Doug Pray’s doc Art and Copy seemed to be going like gangbusters. The terrific Laemmle staff went out of their way to support our movie, placing trailers in all of their theaters and allowing us to do a bunch of cross-promotional ventures despite the hassle. We also had a nearly sold out sneak preview screening hosted by Laemmle and Visual Communications at the Pasadena Playhouse. For whatever reason, it just didn’t work.

In Orange County, I saw quite a few families in the audience. The fact that it was playing at the Spectrum gave it legitimacy for audience members who otherwise might not try out an indie film. The OC grosses were also helped by a front-page article in the OC Register detailing the film, as well as the amazing support of CSU Fullerton student and blogger Michelle Nakaji and her friends who enthusiastically campaigned for the film. Their support helped the film stay on for two decent weeks in Irvine.

Indie theaters and corporate chains each have their pros and cons. Playing in the chain theaters also meant we had to pay $2,700 for an MPAA rating—a significant amount of money for us. Yet that expenditure also served to legitimize the movie for the non-arthouse set. On the opposite side, working with the owners and managers at indie theaters tends to be easier since there’s much less red tape and general bureaucracy.

So, which is better? “I think no matter what way you look at it, everything depends on the city,” said Duane, who actively campaigned in both Los Angeles and for our Utah release on two Cinemark screens. In some markets, the film was well served by multiplex play, while in others we were better off in an indie theater with a built in, loyal audience.

My co-producer Michael Lerman adds: “We’re not really an arty movie. We’re more like a low budget commercial movie, so playing in multiplexes often made sense, but, yes, it does vary from city to city.”

FESTIVALS AS “SNEAK PREVIEWS”

Before meeting Dylan and Nguyen, my idea was to get local theatrical bookings immediately following each festival screening. After all, the excitement surrounding a festival screening would certainly raise the profile of my movie in a given market… right?

Easier said than done, especially when you’re working on your own. I tried to get a theatrical booking immediately following our premiere at the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival, but with everything else going on and with so little lead time, I never managed to make it happen. San Francisco eventually became our second weekend, September 18th—6 months after our festival debut.

After teaming with Variance, we did manage to release the film in several markets with a festival lead in. The film opened in Hawaii immediately following two well-received screenings at the Hawaii International Film Festival… and did vigorous business for 5 weeks. In San Diego we opened soon after winning the Audience Award at the San Diego Asian Film Festival, and managed to hold on for three weeks with the festival staff’s enthusiastic support.

With only two case studies, it’s difficult to make a definitive call. I believe that with enough lead time and the help of a booker like Variance, using this strategy from the beginning may prove to be a winning bet. I hope to try it out on a future project…

ONE NIGHT ONLY EVENTS

Jon Reiss and others have often counseled that one or two night only screenings are a good bet. I wholeheartedly agree. Oftentimes, even for a well-liked indie film, you could fit a whole-week’s audience in the theater at once—making for a better overall theatrical experience for everyone.

When we showed the film for one night at the Loft (one of my favorite theaters in the country) in Tucson, Arizona, we netted over $1,000 for the night. When we did a one-off at the amazing STARZ! Denver Film Center, we outgrossed the subsequent weeklong run in a single evening. A theatrical run comprised entirely of “event” screenings could likely be more profitable than a traditional release—films such as Box Elder, Helvetica and others have successfully gone that route.

Of course, there is a trade off. Box Elder director and Range Life Entertainment head Todd Sklar—who distributed White on Rice concurrent with Variance—says that the main casualty of this method is press coverage. “Most places won’t give a film coverage unless it’s given a full run. That is why we started doing a slate of films versus just one film per tour: it allows us to book a week of screenings and get coverage.” However, Loft programming director Jeff Yanc says that the issue is “easily surmountable, as the one-time screenings can be pitched to the local media as an ‘event,’ especially if there is a guest appearance involved.”

Jeff has successfully sustained a series called One Hit Wonders designed to showcase smaller films during weekday evenings. “If it seems that the film may not have a high awareness factor in our market due to its national marketing campaign or lack thereof, a one-off screening is preferable since we can do our own ‘event’ marketing for the screening and drive an audience to that one screening. We can also utilize local community groups who might have a vested interest in the subject matter…to help do grassroots promotion.”

The Loft is now the only art-house theater in Tucson (my hometown) meaning that their two screens are constantly in demand for the latest indie and semi-indie releases. While booking DIY released movies for weeklong runs may not make business sense for them, they have found a model that successfully drives traffic and turns a decent buck for DIY filmmakers—and for the theater as well.

If a group of indie theaters across the country banded together for a national One Hit Wonders program series, the results could be interesting…

DOING IT YOURSELF vs. DOING IT WITH OTHERS

Not too long ago, Dylan emailed me with an intriguing plan. Until now, our theatrical release has been relegated primarily to the West Coast and Hawaii. We’d toyed with the idea of opening in New York, but it had always been prohibitively expensive.

Dylan suggested teaming up with our friends from the festival favorite Children of Invention to do a sort-of “Double Feature” at the Imaginasian Theater (since renamed BIG Cinemas Manhattan).

Tze Chun (director) and Mynette Louie (producer) of Children of Invention have already made DIY distribution waves of their own. Still, both of them see the theatrical release as an important component of their overall plan. “Even though our film has been available on DVD as well as on YouTube during Sundance, we still get emails from people asking when it’s going to screen locally in their city,” says Mynette. “There are still people out there who prefer the theatrical experience to anything else, and we want to do our best to deliver the film in any and all formats to suit everyone’s preferences.”

New York is an expensive market, and we immediately sparked to Dylan’s idea. The Rice and Children crews had become very close over the course of our 2009 festival tour, and the idea of working together was very appealing.

We’re calling this style of release DIWO (Do It With Others), as opposed to DIY. Basically, the two movies will share a single screen with alternating showtimes. While the standard ticket price is $12 for each movie, you can see both for $18 if you choose. We’re doing joint posters, postcards, and helping each other with the community outreach—at a fraction of the typical cost to open a movie in New York. If it works out, this could be a low-cost release model for other filmmakers to try as well.

Our little DIWO double-bill runs from March 12th-18th at BIG Cinemas Manhattan (239 East 59th Street, between 2nd and 3rd Ave. Take subway 4,5,6,N,R,W to 59th/Lexington).

In case you can’t tell, I really want this to be a success for both films. Hopefully we’ll see you there at the theater. If you can’t make it, you can still support both films by buying a ticket online here. Or buy our DVD here.

LOOKING FORWARD (AND BACK)

As of this writing, Rice has grossed around $70,000 in theatrical revenue (not counting one-offs, special screenings, or screening fees from festivals). Not a spectacular number by any stretch of the imagination, but I hope to at least crack 6 figures by the end of our run. Even with my very modest 5-figure expenditure for P&A, it’s been a neck-and-neck chase with red ink. Our box office gross collection average through Variance has been a fantastic 44%, much higher than the 25-30% that filmmakers typically collect when working directly with the theaters, but in the end it still looks like we’ll probably lose some money on the theatrical release.

The question I often get asked is, “Was it worth it?”

Absolutely. I love my film, and I believe it works best in a theater with an audience. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished as a team. From a purely business perspective, the film has been exposed to thousands of potential ancillary consumers. My investors are certainly more likely to see a return from Rice’s post-theatrical life than they would otherwise. When I compare it to the attention my previous film, Big Dreams Little Tokyo, received from an obscure straight-to-DVD release, the difference is night and day.

When I asked him about his overall philosophy on DIY releasing, Dylan said, “What’s not being discussed is that you don’t have to necessarily come up with $250k to make an impact. It can really, truly be done for a fraction of the cost.” I tend to agree, but it really comes down to each filmmaker’s ability to inventively reach their audience. As we speak, the Variance release Until the Light Takes Us is about to cross the $100K box office milestone on a P&A budget that’s markedly lower than Rice—a sign that the team is doing something right. Going forward, filmmakers may have to be satisfied with modest financial victories—and adjust their production budgets accordingly—but at least we won’t have the high-stakes lottery mindset that fueled the indie-film economic bubble of the past decade.

It goes without saying that a DIY/DIWO release like this takes an incredible amount of work. Even with the generous help of publicists, friends, interns, and student volunteers, the to-do list always seems to get longer and we always felt stretched thin. By the time the first leg of our journey wrapped in December, Nguyen, Hiroshi and I were physically and emotionally exhausted from the crazy schedule. All three of us had to put our other professional and personal commitments on hold. I’ll always be grateful to both of them for their willingness to sacrifice on behalf of our film.

Dylan once mentioned that the theatrical distribution business is a pattern of “triumph and tragedy,” and I’d say that sums things up pretty well. Despite the roller-coaster nature of things, I personally can’t wait to take the ride again.

— Dave Boyle

(White on Rice runs from March 12th-18th exclusively at BIG Cinemas Manhattan (formerly the Imaginasian; 259 E. 59th St.) alongside Children of Invention. It also opens in Atlanta, Georgia at the Cinefest Theater from March 15th-21st. For more info, visit the film’s official website. Also, be sure to read Tully’s review of White on Rice and Nelson Kim’s conversation with Dave Boyle.)

RELEASING “RICE” – REFLECTIONS ON THE IN-PROGRESS SELF DISTRIBUTION OF WHITE ON RICE, PART ONE

Much has been written in the past few years about the changing landscape of indie film distribution. While much has indeed changed, those of us who are only on our first or second movie have the luxury of growing up in a post-apocalyptic landscape; we don’t have to “get used to” the new world, it’s the only thing we know!

I completed my second film White on Rice in early 2009. During post-production, I evaluated my options and realized that if I wanted my film to be seen in theaters, I’d have to take matters into my own hands. I’d been around the block once and knew that only a small handful of films win the lottery every year. My film—a comedy that’s half in Japanese—would likely not be one of them, especially with the economy in tatters.

With those challenges in mind, I started in on a distribution plan that began on the festival circuit, and continues to this day. White on Rice will open in New York City paired with my friend Tze Chun’s wonderful film Children of Invention on March 12th, 2010. This comes after playing theatrically in 10 cities through Variance Films, and doing semi-theatrical screenings in an additional 15 markets, some of which were provided by Range Life Entertainment. We are also selling DVDs online at www.whiteonricethemovie.com.

While I’m still very much a distribution Luddite, I’d like to share a few random thoughts based on my experience. I certainly don’t have any concrete answers, but I hope that my experiences with White on Rice come in handy for other filmmakers navigating the current distribution landscape.

***I’m going to try and stay away from categories that are well covered elsewhere by distribution professionals such as Peter Broderick and Jon Reiss. Their invaluable writings have been a huge help to me, and are readily available elsewhere. These are just a few reflections based on my brief experience in theatrical distribution so far.***

SELF-DISTRIBUTION: A MISNOMER?

In May of 2009, during the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival, I happened to send a screener to Dylan Marchetti of the Brooklyn based distribution company Variance Films. Dylan had previously overseen the successful release of Journey from the Fall during his tenure at Imaginasian Pictures, and had most recently been at ThinkFilm before starting his own company.

At the same time, I met Nguyen “Wyn” Tran—who was the sales agent for Journey, and thus had a great working relationship with Dylan.

Fortunately, both of them loved the movie and decided to come onboard. Nguyen became the producer’s rep for the film (although his contribution to the release went well beyond a the traditional sales role) and Dylan become the theatrical distributor and booker.

So what does that mean?

Basically, for a flat fee, Dylan got the movie into theaters. He helped Nguyen and me to design a marketing campaign for the film. We cut the trailer together, tweaked the poster design, and identified the core audience groups we would target. His primary responsibility, however, was to get the theatrical bookings we needed and collect our box office at the end of each run. I guess in the strictest terms, this qualifies as a “Service Deal,” though it was quite different from the 6 to 7 figure arrangements usually referred to as such. Officially, we counted it as a co-release between Variance Films and my own Tiger Industry Films label.

In Nguyen’s capacity as a producer’s rep, he worked to sell the ancillary rights to the film, but in the theatrical release he took on a marketing role alongside Dylan. He traveled with me from place to place doing on-the-ground grassroots work, while Dylan oversaw exhibitor relations from his headquarters in New York.

Within four months of our “team-up,” my film was in theaters—a truly miraculous timeline. Without Dylan’s distribution pipeline, I would have struggled for months on my own to get that first booking, long after festival-goers had already forgotten about the film. The relatively modest cost of bringing in some seasoned professionals was well worth it.

“There’s a method to the madness, so to speak, and filmmakers are almost always better off doing promotional and press work, not the nuts and bolts things,” commented Dylan. “I look at it like building a house- you can buy one that already exists, or you can build your own. But when you build your own, it’s fine to design it, it’s fine to lay the foundation, but you’re probably better off calling a plumber and electrician to do that side of things.”

“GRASSROOTS” or TRADITIONAL?

Nguyen and I had many long discussions about creating an “awareness” of the film, and how we could accomplish that without much financial backing. We tried a mix of grassroots tactics (with a heavy emphasis on the internet) and some limited traditional media buys.

During the release, we polled the audience about how they decided to see White on Rice. By far and away, the majority heard about it over the Internet. Alice Zou and Clay Dollarhyde of mPRm helped us with a web-based outreach in order to get clips and trailers from the film out into the world. Sites such as Apple Trailers and Fandango, plus blogs like Angry Asian Man were often cited as the deciding factor in our audience polls. On Facebook, Nguyen kept an active dialogue going with our fans, which also proved to be a great way to keep people excited.

By contrast, our newspaper ads (which we placed when required) never seemed to be a deciding factor at all. We may as well have flushed that money down the toilet. Dylan outlined Variance’s basic philosophy toward newspaper ads: “If your film plays to an older crowd, then it’s good to do something in the dailies. But the price doesn’t come close… to the results that they generate, and the rates seem to be staying the same as circulation decreases.”

We set aside a small amount of money for TV. Leveraging some of Variance’s longstanding relationships, we were able to utilize some discounts and loopholes to place shot TV spots leading up to the release. Unfortunately, too many of them ended up in bad slots on Animal Planet.

Undeterred, we tried the TV experiment once again in Hawaii, this time running a smaller number of ads on the Japanese Language TV station highlighting the appearance of Japanese Academy Award winner Nae Yuki in the film. While the cost-per-ad was higher, I believe the targeted approach contributed to our successful Hawaii run.

I should point out that our entire budget for TV ads was less than $3,000. TV ads are cheaper than you might think, and can be negotiable with the right connections. Still, as I learned, it’s difficult to target them effectively—unless you have a specific niche for your film. Luckily, we did.

“Person-to-Person” marketing seemed to work very well—and was probably the least expensive method of all. For example, whenever we visited a college Japanese class to stump for the film, I always saw a large percentage of the students show up at the theater—especially if their teacher offered extra credit! College classes are a captive audience, and we found that teachers were usually happy to have us speak for a few minutes and show the trailer.

Hiroshi Watanabe, the star of the film, proved to be an invaluable asset in person-to-person marketing. He basically did a stand-up comedy routine whenever we visited a class or community organization. I’ve never seen an actor take ownership of their movie quite like he did—his infectious enthusiasm helped drive a great deal of our traffic. He also participated in a series of web videos, and maintained a constant interaction with fans on Facebook.

So which wins out? The traditional ad buys or the grassroots approach? I’d say, with the exception of newspaper ads, that both are helpful. One fallacy, however, is thinking that “grassroots” somehow equals “free.” The cost of travel to make college visits and do community organizing definitely adds up—and the web-based approach can only go so far without a modicum of human contact.

THE RISE OF BANANA MAN

Soon after the team-up, Nguyen and I were commiserating about our lack of a real P&A budget. I remarked that we’d probably be better off just dressing up in banana suits and holding up signs by the side of the road. (A banana-clad character figures into the plot of White on Rice).

“That’s it!” Nguyen said, “That’s the hook!”

With that, Nguyen became the first (and preeminent) “Banana Man” in the lowest-fi portion of our campaign. Donning a ridiculous fruit suit, he visited college campuses, shopping malls, farmers markets, street fairs, rest homes and wherever else he could to stump for the film. “Banana Man” took on a life of his own.

“It’s a minor detail in the movie but ended up being such a great symbol for us,” recalls producer Duane Andersen, who also occasionally donned the suit or accompanied bananified supporting actor Dave Christenson. “Wherever we went with The Banana Man we got attention. How could you not? We went into busy bars, and I never did so well. I could walk up to any random group, sit down and say, I’m with the banana, and immediately I was in.”

Even now, I run into people who say “Oh yeah, I met a guy in a banana suit talking about your movie once.” Another crew member from the film even called me after seeing Nguyen on the street and said “I just saw a guy in a banana suit advertising something, we should do that for the movie!”

Hiroshi got on board with Nguyen’s guerilla marketing tactics. He personally street teamed (sans banana suit) and talked to hundreds of people—his favorite hook being to hand them a Rice postcard with his face on it and say: “See that guy? That’s me!”

Hiroshi himself is rather modest about his sizable contribution to the campaign, and simply said “I really respect Mr. Tran for being the Banana Man. He is courageous, smart and can think very fast.” Asked how he enjoyed working on a low budget release, he remarked “I once heard a famous actor say that promotion of films is much more difficult than acting. Now I understand. At the same time, I really enjoyed it because I could talk to many people.”

While I’m not “shy” per se, I’m definitely not an “embrace the crowd” party guy. Fortunately, I had some bigmouths like Nguyen, Hiroshi and the gang on my side to fill that void. It’s yet more evidence that teaming up with people who compliment your strengths and weaknesses is an important part of a theatrical release—just like the actual filmmaking process.

How successful was Banana Man? In the end, it’s hard to quantify. While it was a great way to rile up a crowd, I personally felt that the college visits and media appearances probably resulted in more tickets sold than “Banana Man” type tactics. However, when you’ve got nothing else going on, why not?

There were certainly many people, previously aware of White on Rice, for whom Banana Man sealed the deal. Others (and I’m not kidding here) showed up simply because they felt Banana Man had become their friend.

And, yes, I’m positive that some people wanted to murder Banana Man. But at least they know about the movie.

EXPERIMENTING WITH FALSE ADVERTISING

Bruce Campbell (The Evil Dead, Army of Darkness) contributes a little voice cameo in my film (providing the bad dubbing for a mock samurai scene that opens the picture), and we decided to court the geek audience (which includes me, by the way) by making fake trailers for Ambush at Blood Trail Gate and hopefully hooking people’s interest in the REAL movie.

Campbell and his agent were great sports, even going as far as providing us with a quote for the press release: “Material like Ambush at Blood Trail Gate doesn’t come across my desk very often so I knew I had to pounce on it. I told my agent, ‘lose this gig and you’re out of here.’ I am really proud of the finished product and look forward to a wide release.”

What a guy. We released the trailer, sent out the press release, and held our breath.

The news spread pretty fast. In multiple discussion forums, people talked earnestly about how much they looked forward to seeing Bruce’s first foray into the badly dubbed martial arts genre. I hoped that eventually the bread-trail would lead to White on Rice.

Surely enough, it did. However, when people finally uncovered the hoax, and that the REAL movie was a “cute” romantic comedy, their rage was palpable. They seemed genuinely angry that the samurai movie they’d been promised was nothing but a falsity. Rather than leading people to anticipate my film, the marketing move just inspired them to lament a movie that didn’t even exist.

Todd Brown, who helped us spread the word about Ambush through Twitchfilm.net, believes that such a stunt could successfully work, “but it’s pretty tricky. I don’t think it’s so much a genre issue as it is how well you’re able to manage that transition. Hype people too much on the fake product and the disappointment that it doesn’t exist can lead to the viewing the real thing as a disappointment – no matter how good it is – simply because it isn’t what they’ve been led to believe they really want.”

Lesson learned. On the other hand, now I know that a samurai film dubbed by Bruce Campbell would probably be a pretty big seller. Hmmmm….

(Read Part Two right here.)

— Dave Boyle

By jumping genres, Quentin Tarantino has made three straight revenge films without anyone really noticing. He’s been making his version of One-Eyed Jacks over and over, using different costumes to make it seem like different movies.

But a revenge movie is a revenge movie is a revenge movie. It provides a very limited emotional palette. George W. Bush showed us just how monotonous and silly a revenge movie can be when one tries to drag it out over a number of years. It’s a real narrow way of being, looking for payback blood. And as time goes on, and facts and connections come to light, revenge only becomes harder and harder to justify. It may indeed be best served cold, but it’s usually just stale. And stinking of lunacy and fear.

Kill Bill was a martial arts movie. Death Proof was a slasher/muscle car movie. Inglourious Basterds is a World War II film. Whatever. They’re all centered around the settling of scores with a bad man. And by the time Basterds comes along, with Tarantino standing up for Jews, African Americans, Native Americans and presumably all wronged people everywhere, it feels like a little kid with just one balloon, blowing that balloon up as big as he can. But like all balloons, Basterds is fragile, filled with hot air. It can be popped with a prick. I think the filmmaker knows this, somewhere, and the more vulnerable Tarantino feels, the more he lays on the bombast, raises his voice, and, of course, seeks revenge!

Revenge against who, I ask, wearily, for who can even think of more killing in today’s fucked-up world? Well, it doesn’t take Freud to see that Hitler, Bill, and Stuntman Mike are all father figures. And while Tarantino wants us to believe he is taking on fascism and evil for all of us, isn’t QT really just trying to get back at his old man? I mean, isn’t that what all these movies are about? Anger at Papa T? I don’t know their story, but it’s hard to miss.

I understand The Wrath Of Khan. I can get down with Death Wish. I’ve had nights with my cousin Ben when we thought we were vigilante heroes outside the 7/11. But these are moments. And ultimately, one has to pass through them. That, or get an army jacket, handgun, and stack of Xbox games.

America is filled with 40-year-old Charles Bronson wannabes clutching their Frank Miller collections, confounded by their own anger, man-boys who never served in Vietnam, but think they did because they have seen The Deer Hunter three hundred times. They act tough and detached, but mess with their 1970s G.I. Joe collection and you will see just how precious they can be. And these guys love their mothers. Hell, they often live with their mothers. But the father, that’s a different bag.

Robert Bly has told us all about how the American man is lacking in tradition, poetry, and wisdom. Our version of a vision quest is watching Avatar in 3-D. But who’s gonna have the patience for Rainer Maria Rilke or Antonio Machado when you can just mosey down the street and instantaneously fulfill your bloodlust for twelve bucks or so? You can even go back in time and kill Hitler. And you get to do all this with really snazzy dialogue.

In the meantime, in the present time, the confusion just builds. The confusion about war. The confusion about fighting. And there’s some 12-year-old kid out there in some Minnesota mall who actually sees through Inglourious Basterds, sees how weak and befuddled a film it is. But his friends are all yelling about how awesome it is and how cool Tarantino is and how rad Brad is. And that kid gets drowned out. Hopefully not forever.

When Tarantino does try to reach beyond vengeance in these films, it comes out corny. Like the scene with The Bride convincing a female assassin she is pregnant in Kill Bill. Or Shoshanna sitting quietly at a fancy restaurant with the killer of her family. Rather than being poignant, these scenes feel manipulative and contrived. It seems the more Tarantino seeks revenge, the less he is able to honestly convey any other human emotions.

I remember being in Nepal, practicing meditation with all these monks. On the weekend, we would go down into Kathmandu and drink orange soda and watch movies. There’d be like four movies back to back. First we watched The Jackal, with Richard Gere. And then Pulp Fiction came on. Mind you, the movies are playing in tiny dark restaurants, projected onto cracked walls. But still, Pulp blew us all away. The sheer movie magic of it. And it wasn’t all about getting even. And it wasn’t all about hate. There was violence in it, for sure. Even some revenge (Zed’s definitely dead). But there was so much heart that the violence meant something. It became like the violence of a Grimm’s Fairy Tale. When Vincent Vega is shot down, it’s a shock. We were just hangin’ with him in a diner. We were just rolling cigarettes with him, falling in love with him, and now he’s gone. The monks, most of them refugees, all nodded.

— Noah Buschel

(If you haven’t already, read Part One of Pamela Cohn’s wrap-up right here.)

This year, the T/F team watched about 700 films sent to them for consideration for their carefully curated festival of just 40 selections. The programming ethos is a complex one, as it is for most festivals that pride themselves on offering challenging work that will rarely be seen outside the circuit—hard choices that have very little to do with anything except celebrating great work and serving it up to small town audiences hungry for such fare.

What the program intends to offer (turning down many, many excellent films in the process) is a “stunning array of approaches.” The “There are no small stories” tagline is indicative of the celebration of a singular vision in telling true stories and bringing it to a small community like Columbia. Makes sense since the way they tend to see the world is distinctly human-scale, a place where individual, lonely satellites looking for sensible terrain can commune together in dark cinemas for a long weekend of great film. And then talk about what they saw over giant plates of fried things and local artisanal beer. Heaven.

The Invention of Dr. NakaMats (directed by Kaspar Astrup Schröder) — Leave it to a Danish filmmaker to find a man like this and make a film about him. The 80-year-old doctor has over 3,300 inventions under his stylish belt, including the floppy disk and Love Jet potion, a “sex enhancer” for women. Dr. NakaMats is a joyously hilarious character and it’s a pleasure to spend time with him as he explains his life’s work. Schröder shoots a blithe day-in-the-life portrait of this wacky, brilliant man. This played, appropriately, with Brad Beesley’s new 14-minute short, Mr. Hypnotism, the story of Ron Dante (uh-oh, website overload!).

It Felt Like a Kiss (directed by Adam Curtis) — The latest work from the director of The Power of Nightmares is a wonder. A lot of us had to skip the next movie we planned to watch and go lie down for a bit in a quiet place to recover. In It Felt Like a Kiss—described by festival co-founder Paul Sturtz as a “psycho-archaeological dig”—Curtis, like some diabolical alchemist, presents America at its nightmarish worst, sewing together stunning visual montages of archival footage accompanied by a pulse-pounding soundtrack. It is an explosive, pugilistic piece of filmmaking, kind of like psychedelic, electric-shock therapy for the senses. Watching this reminded me of my experience watching Ken Russell’s Tommy for the first time, especially Tina Turner’s “Gypsy Acid Queen” number. Shattering, haunting, electrifying, definitely not for the weak of heart.

Kati With an I (directed by Robert Greene) — Kati is Greene’s much younger half-sister and he has been shooting footage of her since she was a little girl. In this über-intimate portrait, a very “small story” indeed, Greene captures Kati, a teenager about to graduate high school and already engaged to her childhood sweetheart whom she plans to marry “in five years,” over the course of three emotional days. Her future, in many ways, is set in this vivacious girl’s mind—she has it all planned out in the way we, as little girls, used to do when we could describe in minute detail our dream wedding day. The problem is, little boys dream of other things, even while professing undying love and devotion, wailing romantic songs along with the radio behind the wheels of pickups in the dopey earnest way teenagers do. We see many of Kati’s dreams disintegrate as she encounters the irrevocable onslaught of young adulthood, its expectations and endless responsibilities, which come way, way too soon. Kati With an I has the same poetic pangs of angst and bewilderment as Matthew Porterfield’s beautiful Putty Hill, providing resonant collective memories of what it’s like to be an unsophisticated child “on the verge.” Greene’s and Sean Price Williams’s cinematography is a revelation, lush and sensuous. And Greene’s editing is both sophisticated and visceral, enhancing the deeply emotional journey of their young subject with all of the pain-filled splendor she can muster for the camera. Remarkable that they made a feature film this nuanced and fulgent with just 14 hours of footage.

Those Who Remain (Los Que Se Quedan) (directed by Juan Carlos Rulfo and Carlos Hagerman) — There have been many films made about the Mexican emigrant experience from this side of the fence, but Rulfo and Hagerman’s beautiful, highly romantic film is set in Mexico with the people left behind. Absent loved ones—husbands, wives, sons, daughters, any of those that are able—have crossed over to the States to earn enough money to support entire families back home. With graceful strokes, the filmmakers create a vision of this homeland that many are forced to leave, and where many are forced to live, sometimes, whole lifetimes estranged from their closest relatives. Like the most emotionally resonant films do, Those Who Remain celebrates its subjects with a full arsenal of cinematic metaphor, and mines vérité riches with patient and loving observation. The film won the big doc prize at the ’09 Los Angeles Film Festival.

Waste Land (directed by Lucy Walker) — Walker is an intrepid filmmaker. She tells bold, adventurous stories from very small, circumscribed worlds (The Devil’s Playground, Blindsight), her subjects the disenfranchised, the outcasts, the “invisible.” She also makes films for the big screen. In her latest, we accompany her to the massive garbage dumps of Brazil with Brazilian-born artist Vic Muniz, as he travels from his workspace in Brooklyn to the world’s largest landfill on the outskirts of Rio. His latest project involves a collaboration with a few of the catedores, or garbage pickers, who live and work in the Jardim Gramacho, using the collected trash as material for his portraits, a source material he’s used for inspiration for his art pieces for years. Walker’s camera captures the surprising spirit and strength and joy of these people in wondrous and deeply moving ways in a place most of us would be hard pressed to bear for half a day. Man, the Brazilians are tough! This film, not surprisingly, won the Audience Award at both the Sundance festival and the Berlinale.

There are several more films I saw that will be débuting or playing at other festivals in the near future, so we’ll circle back and weigh in on them at a later date. Some have already been reviewed on this site.

But if you find yourself with a chance to see any of these, do: Circo by Aaron Schock, Familia by Mikael Wiström and Alberto Herkovits, Greetings from the Woods by Mikel Cee Karlsson, Last Train Home by Lixin Fan, The Mirror (Lo Specchio) by David Christensen, The Red Chapel by Mads Brügger (playing next in New York as part of New Directors/New Films), Restrepo by Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington.

— Pamela Cohn

In a free local Missouri paper called VOX Magazine, reporter Aaron Channon writes, “The winter air in Columbia is not charged with the taste of salt water off the Mediterranean, and George Clooney will not be spotted sauntering along the sandy shores of Stephens Lake. Despite this—for a few days, at least—Columbia becomes a cultural island awash in a vast sea of Missourah. Such is the effect of the True/False Film Festival.”

Those of us who have been coming to the festival for several years know that this event provides a retreat and a respite from the grind of the circuit, and the daily Sisyphean task of funding, making, finishing and distributing independent films. While we talk incessantly and obsessively about great nonfiction cinema and run from theater to theater to see both already discovered, and undiscovered, gems from around the world, it is the intimacy, coziness and distinct lack of “marketplace” that sets this fest apart from most others. It’s just a pleasure, that’s all.

This year, we did have some superstars—of the documentary world, at least—sauntering down the streets of downtown Columbia: Adam Curtis (It Felt Like a Kiss), Tim Hetherington and Sebastian Junger (Restrepo), Lixin Fan and Mila Aung Thwin (Last Train Home), Rob Lemkin (Enemies of the People, recipient of the True Life Fund), Laura Poitras (The Oath, fresh from Sundance and Berlin and recipient of the True Vision Award; My Country, My Country was also shown), Leon Gast (Smash His Camera), Lucy Walker (Waste Land), Marshall Curry (Racing Dreams), Sam Green (Utopia in Four Movements).

As well, there were new talents who are making an incredible impact on the scene with their stellar work, and international filmmakers who were visiting the US for the very first time. (And yes, they did say, “Where the hell are we?”) What struck me most profoundly, however, were the travel war stories of just getting to the damned place. I’m not even sure David Wilson and Paul Sturtz realize what an imperative destination this has become for top programmers and funders and producers out of New York, DC, LA, and elsewhere. Some folks had trips that were so delayed by bad winter storms, they didn’t even get there until almost the end of the festival, waited hours at airports and traveled great distances over the prairie to experience at least some of it. And SWAMI, Julia Reichert showed up with pneumonia!

As usual, I saw various and sundry things and my schedule, also as usual, got upended by last-minute choices of films to see (peer pressure), wonderful conversations I didn’t want to end, meeting a filmmaker whose work I admire and gabbing way past the start time of the next show; or just enjoying a meal with friends at one of the generous, local eateries that feed us all so well during our stay. I also got to be a ringleader for the first time this year, intro-ing films and doing post-screening Q&As with Columbia’s great audiences. In this post and, probably one more, I’ll do a rundown of some of the films that impressed me greatly, so here we go.

All the films in the excellent program, to a director, have exceedingly strong, very personal points-of-view. They investigate history, current events, politics, society, religion, the arts, etc., in ways in which something with a wide scope—a story that tells much about us—is writ small, creating an almost uncomfortable intimacy between audience and subject(s). Which brings to mind both Rob Lemkin and Thet Sambath’s Enemies of the People, and Laura Poitras’ The Oath. The best thing I’ve read about the first film, fresh from its Sundance premiere, is this from Neil Miller’s Film School Rejects blog: “No one is doing real journalism anymore. This is something that as a movie blogger, I’m told all the time. Many folks in my industry have no ability or interest in doing real journalism (though there are exceptions; don’t get me wrong). So in the small world of blogging about film, that might be mostly true. But if we draw our lens back a bit and take a look at the world, pushing aside the gossip-hounds and the slew of celeb-fucking shows on television, there is a place where real journalism is thriving. It exists in the world of documentary filmmaking. That is where we find more than just real journalists doing life-threatening investigation; we also find truth.” Yes, that’s where we find it.

The Oath (directed by Laura Poitras) — In the case of Poitras, her search for truth with regards to her main subject, Abu Jandal, former bodyguard to Osama bin Laden, and now a cab driver in his native Yemen, is elusive. The cat-and-mouse between filmmaker and subject creates a suspense and tension that is palpable, that goes beyond the idea of engaging head on with a leading jihadist at the forefront of the fundamentalist movement. But Jandal is also going through some profound crises of conscience, both privately and publicly, and he is just an absolutely fascinating man—smart, charismatic, forthright, and tortured. Poitras shoots thrillingly intimate vérité (supported by DP Kirsten Johnson’s gorgeous cinematography of Yemen) and asks respectful, but persistent, questions—about 9/11, about Jandal’s brother-in-law, Salim Hamdan, who served time in Guantánamo, about innocent lives lost due to acts of terrorism in the name of Allah. Jandal giveth, and then he taketh, but Poitras and her co-producer and editor, Jonathan Oppenheim, found ways in which to utilize the strengths of her incredible access to this man, creating an “inverse thriller,” as Jason Silverman calls it. It is a tremendously challenging film and Poitras has raised the bar of nonfiction storytelling in a hugely significant way with this second installment of her post-911 film trilogy.

And Everything Is Going Fine (directed by Steven Soderbergh) — Soderbergh has pieced together a loving post-mortem video portrait of performer/writer/actor/philosopher Spalding Gray through live performance footage, several talks with him over the course of his career (with a wacky array of interviewers and venues), and family home movies. It is an exceedingly intimate look at a man who shared just about everything there is to share about the human experience through his intensely personal monologues performed live on a stage with very little in the way of accoutrements—a table, a chair, a microphone, and his notebook. Throughout the film, Soderbergh vigilantly showcases Gray’s rarest trait—to masterfully perform live, while simultaneously experiencing crippling inner turmoil and severe emotional distress, deriving “order from chaos,” and sharing with us all the bottomless absurdity and searing pain of life. I miss his voice so much.

Antoine (directed by Laura Bari) — I adore this film. I saw this at a previous festival last year; you can read my review on this site here.

As Lilith (directed by Eytan Harris) — If I had to pick an undiscovered gem at this year’s festival that impacted me the most, I would have to say that Harris’ film is it. When David Wilson introduced it, he jokingly talked about his partner-in-crime Paul Sturtz’s ability to sniff out a “phony” doc. While watching this film, they were convinced that they were in the hands of a trickster, Wilson describing it as “getting weirder and weirder and weirder.” And then in the course of watching it, “realer and realer and realer.” Okay, not exactly grammatically correct, but you get the picture. This is pure vérité at its best and Eytan’s camera work reminds me of Al Maysles’, the lens connecting filmmaker and subject in such an intimate and trusting way, a viewer experiences a downright sense of privilege to be taken along for the ride. ZAKA is Israel’s emergency “cleanup” service, removing the remains of loved ones and offering comfort and solace to the bereaved. Their main mission (and they will not be deterred) is to supply an Orthodox burial service. In the small, wealthy beach town of Zikhron Yaacov in the north of the country, a teenaged girl has committed suicide, hanging herself from a tree in the front yard of her house directly in front of her mother’s bedroom window. Said mother, who has renamed herself Lilith, has plans to cremate the body. And so begins a battle royal between her and the Orthodox community of ZAKA, along with the secular community in which she resides. Harris becomes an important witness to a woman plagued by her own demons and those of her children, as well as the outright abuse and harassment she experiences from the society around her. It is a mysterious, fascinating and deeply disturbing story (with many instances of macabre humor) told by a director at the top of his craft. One old woman coming out of the theater said to her grown children, “Okay, in ten words, what in the world did we just see?”

GasLand (directed by Josh Fox) — I (and, I think, a lot of us) want to see “social issue documentaries” made more like this one. Fox, a first-time documentary filmmaker coming out of an experimental theatrical background, hits the road from his home in the Catskills/Poconos region of upstate New York and Pennsylvania and goes on a personal quest across the US to expose the damage of the practice of fracking. This method uses a highly toxic chemical combination to assist in the drilling process for “natural” gas, poisoning soil and groundwater supplies. His journalism is impeccable, his presence entertaining and engaging, the cinematography sublime. One filmmaker I spoke with calls it “an art film in the guise of an issue film.” Staggeringly impressive. Mr. Fox, please keep making films; we need more voices and visions like yours. (GasLand won the Special Jury Prize for Documentary at Sundance.)

How to Fold a Flag (directed by Michael Tucker and Petra Epperlein) — I meant to write on this superb film when I saw it at Stranger Than Fiction in New York last fall, fresh off its début at Toronto. The True/False kids are diehard fans of Tucker and Epperlein, and so am I. Tucker and Epperlein, a husband and wife team, have devoted their independent film work to documenting the US invasion of Iraq since its inception six years ago, starting with the excellent Gunner Palace, and have created one of the few deeply emotional and personal cinematic archives of this war due to the close relationships and collaborations they’ve developed with their subjects over the years, in particular, a group of soldiers and their families, all of whom they revisit in this film as they re-adjust to civilian life. They are superb filmmakers—Tucker’s shooting, particularly in this latest piece, is astoundingly strong, resonant, filled with light, beautiful. The title is evocative of a schoolkid’s primer, the type of simple, instruction-based how-to that Americans, especially, still need in order to come to terms with the fact that we are still waging an unfavorable war that’s gone on and on (it was supposed to be over by Christmas of 2003), and a war that’s also now being pretty much ignored by everyone except for those in this country that are still serving and those that are waiting anxiously for those serving to return home. And, of course, there’s the impact on the Iraqis, a lot of whom are still living in devastating and dangerous circumstances every single day. There is still a body count on both sides piling up, even though our attention is now being shuttled over to Afghanistan. What the subjects in How to Fold a Flag offer in abundance, in quite complex ways, are the virtues said to represent each fold as the American Flag is “closed” twelve times at a memorial service for an enlisted man or woman. This giant piece of cloth, pared down to a small triangle one can hold in one’s hands, is then presented to the mother, father, wife, son, daughter, of the dead soldier. These virtues are: liberty, unity, justice, perseverance, hardiness, valor, purity, innocence, sacrifice, honor, independence, truth. If any film deserved a national theatrical run right now, especially due to our Iraq “fatigue,” it would be this one. I hope, at the very least, more festivals will program it.

More in my next installment (which you can now read right here)…

— Pamela Cohn