Screen Rush is the blog of film critic and journalist Eric Kohn, whose work regularly appears in indieWIRE, New York Press, Filmmaker, Moviemaker, Heeb Magazine and a half dozen other outlets. A true twenty-first century movie buff, his writing centers around the impact of new media on the moving image, the changing face of film criticism, and the tempestuous relationship between pop culture and independent artistry. This site includes links to his recently published work and allows for additional thoughts on cinema's modern state. E-mail Eric at erichkohn(at)gmail(dot)com.
Alex Holdridge’s In Search of a Midnight Kiss would play really well on a double bill with Barry Jenkins’ Medicine for Melancholy. Both films contrast an urban California setting with the philosophical musings of two young lovers as they wander through the evocative landscapes. And both films are very funny, but quite true to life. So it’s only appropriate that both films found homes at IFC, extending their reach in such a way that hopefully benefits the rising careers of their makers. In the case of Midnight Kiss, which opens this week, Holdridge is finally receiving recognition that’s long overdue. I elaborate in a feature for indieWIRE.
Well, duh. But the problem with Swing Vote, a mediocre Kevin Costner comedy lost in the fog of its own false perceptions, embodies an issue plaguing the American mindset visible in the last clip: Gimmickry replaces content, and clever formulation of rhetoric matters more than the execution of real ideas. As if it weren’t enough that Swing Vote rarely finds its comedic stride and lazily cuts to country music montages every scene or two in place of any cogent ideas, the movie becomes a symptom of the national disease it fails to comprehend with an amazingly ignorant finale championing the survival of the political process over its specific details. Huh?
Eisenstein’s Potemkin was essentially propaganda, but, after all these years, it still makes viewers believe in the causes—if fleetingly—with the careful juxtapositions of symbolism. Swing Vote doesn’t encode any revelations in the filmmaking. Made with the classic “invisible” style typical of old Hollywood, this movie yells in your ear with an okay concept and then heads to the kitchen for a glass of water, purging the system. If it’s a relic of simpler times, it makes the past look stupid.
Is Pixar the only source of quality animation today? Not quite. Look no further than The Animation Show for examples of independent animation keeping the classic traditions alive with wit and insight. Yeah, there’s a great Bill Plympton Guide Dog short, but some other contributions from newcomers with just as much enduring simplicity.
Nick Hilligoss’ The Animator, posted above, is not included in The Animation Show, but it also deserves your attention. We recently invited Nick to join the Wonderland community, so I interviewed him for Stream. The story of his twenty year devotion to independent side projects suggests the determination of a passionate artist, and you can see that dedication in the film above.
Watching the oddity posted above, it occurred to me that FIVE YEARS have passed since the atrocious DC 9/11: Time of Crisis premiered on Showtime, propagandizing the president’s response to the September 11 attacks with the not-so-subtle machinations of a Leni Riefenstahl montage. Since then, Dubya impersonations have taken a number of forms, from the wrly satirical to the downright comic, and many of them have been delivered by the president himself. Arriving at the end of that scarily accurate “four more years” prophesy, Josh Brolin’s performance seems to be the culmination of all those interpretations—both cynical and sincere, absurd and tragic. Hope it amounts to a good movie.
Update: A friend asked me for some thoughts on the trailer and I figured I’d add them here. It’s too early to delve into any detailed analysis of W., but I think what we’re witnessing here has the feeling of an absurd creation precisely because it appears to tell the story with such seriousness. The president, at least in public, has become a parody of himself. As a result, any fictional satire has to compete with the real thing. Stone appears to be making an attempt at the real thing—or, at least, what the public perceives as the real thing.
It’s hard to completely understand his intent. World Trade Center was sincerely patriotic and blatantly endorsed the war on terror, but contained a sharp element of humanity (particularly in the case of Maggie Gyllenhaall’s character) that seemed to oppose all of that “death of irony” earnestness in the film’s conclusion. We all know Stone is a liberal of sorts, but he also abides by this unique duality rooted in a deep respect for American history. Or, at least, he respects a certain kind of American history, a malleable one that takes its cues from collective memory. W. certainly seems to gives us the legacy of a Bush we’ve seen before, but god knows how it’ll look in a decade or more.
Here’s a video equation tracking the various Bush incarnations from the last several years.
Will Ferrell.
Timothy Bottoms. “That’s My Bush!”
(Bottoms also played Bush straight in DC 9/11, and it’s also an amusing performance, if accidentally so.)
Will Ferrell Again. “I’m George W. Bush, and I approve this message. In fact, I think it is awesome.”
“This Land.”
Steve Bridges.
That infamous slideshow:
Bush Again. “Senator Clinton couldn’t get into the building because of sniper fire, and Senator Obama’s at church.” Also: The president decides to start a band with Cheney: “Bastards from Hell.”
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