Yeah, that's right: #3
Somehow, my last post, totalling 1500+ words and full of life and vigor (ha!) was lost in the ether somewhere between the publishing interface and the very dodgy wi-fi connection here in our rented condo. We are living next door to some sort of video production team, and I assume that they are constantly uploading and downloading video on the free wi-fi connection, grinding everyone else to an absolute standstill and apparently costing me my last post. Fuckers. Well, in that post, I wrote about lots of films (The Science of Sleep --loved it, Flannel Pajamas-- liked it very much, The Aura-- likewise!) and waxed poetic about a number of topics and events. Too bad I didn't save a copy... you would have loved reading it. Really. Sigh...

Since then, I have been attending a non-stop parade of movies and events, having spontaneous meetings with friends and colleagues along the way, all of which has made Sundance a very rewarding experience for me this year. That said, there is still much to be done; three more films and a last hurrah with Park City tonight. The wind picked up today, snow falling steadily in horizontal waves into soft, damp piles on every available surface.

The last remaining unbranded space in Park City, UT (Back Porch, 5:15pm MST, Saturday January 28, 2006)

I am running out the door for three of the last four films of the festival (one more tomorrow) and I hope to have a more comprehensive wrap up by Monday morning. In the meantime, here is a chronological list of films I have seen at the festival; expect more complete thoughts in the coming days. Off to brave the snow and the films!

Wrestling With Angels
Wild Tigers I Have Known
Somebodies
The Aura
Kinky Boots
The Science of Sleep
Flannel Pajamas
The Hawk Is Dying
God Grew Tired Of Us
Steel City
This Film is Not Yet Rated
American Blackout
Half Nelson
Wordplay
Who Killed The Electric Car?
Art School Confidential
The World According To Sesame Street
A Lion In The House
'Tis Autumn
What Remains
KZ
TV Junkie
small town gay bar
American Hardcore
Old Joy

Ah, Sundance, you never change. Reports of your demise this year have been greatly exaggerated, what with the industry complaints of exclusion and an amazing ass-covering piece in the NY Times detailing the extensive programming process for the festival (John Cooper, pleased let me know who handles your PR… genius!) From the moment I landed at SLC on Thursday, the festival has been an ice-cold slush-soaked rendezvous with deja vu. Theaters, staff, volunteers, shuttle busses, Main St… it’s like I never left. There is always something about Park City that induces voracity in me and makes me happy to be running from film to party to film to dinner to shuttle stop to film and on and on. I can’t get enough of it. Of course, sometimes my perspective suffers from its own light-headed sojourn into the thin air of the mountains; things that might otherwise be of moderate interest in a half empty art house in mid-July somehow take on the some otherworldly greatness when seen in an enthusiastically full house of 1200 people at 8:30 in the morning. This is what film festivals are about, industry politics be damned. Sure, door-crashing ski bums, corporations too cheap to sponsor the festival but self-interested enough to glom onto the festival’s cache for their boring ass products, and a lot of star-ogling douche bags parade around Main St. as if the pavement was akin to being on-screen. And yes, over-privileged discourteous assholes push their way through lines and try to bully the awesome volunteer staff, and while it is tempting to look at all this and want to throw up, can I really hold the Sundance Film Festival responsible for the reprehensible behavior of ostentatious blowhards and condescending nuveau-riche prats who represent everything I despise about our culture? No. Park City may be ground zero for the selfish asshole zeitgeist, but the Sundance Film Festival is terrific fun anyway.

The snow is falling softly, and softly falling: The view from the Sarasota Film Festival Condo

My schedule so far has been very light, but that has allowed me some moments of serenity and some much-needed sleep. Let me give some brief reports on the films I have seen, some events I have attended, and what’s been going on.

Thursday January 19, 2006: Travel

A very long day of traveling… picked up the guys from the Sarasota Film Festival at around 5:00am EST and headed to the Tampa airport. Minor delay for de-icing in Denver, and we arrived in Park City at around 3:30 MT. Grabbed credentials and after spending an hour smoothing over a credentials mix-up, checked into our perfect condo and had dinner at my one of my favorite places in Park City, Chimayo, at around 9:15. I passed out under my heated blanket at around 11:30. A long, uneventful day of traveling.

Friday January 20, 2006: Roosters, Writers, and Wild Tigers

Up at 7:30 and to the Library for the 8:30 am showing of Shorts Program VI. After a late start (the projection team was apparently locked out of the projection booth), the tech set up proved to be all wrong. Delays. I really feel bad for filmmakers in this situation; they’re already nervous to share their work in front of an audience (especially the shorts filmmakers) and to have a technical snag in the first screening of the day was discouraging. The festival is famous for stop and start time issues, and to kick things off with a 45 minute delay, um, ouch. As a programmer, presentation is hugely important to me (I want our festival to have flawless presentation; we owe it to our filmmakers and audiences), and I know it is to the Sundance team as well, but shit happens. Unfortunately, I was only able to see half of the program because the delay took so long, but what I did see, one film stood out for me; James Clauer’s The Aluminum Fowl.

Clauer was the Cinematographer for Gummo (Harmony Korine executive produced this short), and The Aluminum Fowl feels like a companion piece to that film. The film, which feels like a documentary (as did certain segments of Gummo), details the lives of four stepbrothers who live in abject poverty in rural Tennessee and who torment their pet animals. This includes some mutilation and killing of chickens, pitting dogs, cats, and chickens in fights with one another, and trying to overcome boredom in increasingly distressing ways. Like Korine’s films, Clauer’s film does not take an uplifting or a judgmental stance on its subjects; it simply shows the world as it is and does so beautifully. That said, I am not sure how much time I would care to spend among these kids. Cruel, heartbreaking stuff.

Off to the Eccles next for a sold out screening of Freida Lee Mock’s Spectrum Documentary Wrestling With Angels: Playwright Tony Kushner. This screening really drove home the festival’s central importance to American film festivals; I walked into a sold-out 1250 seat theater at 11:30am on a Friday morning to watch a wonderful documentary about a gay, socialist, Jewish playwright. We can bitch and moan all we want about Sundance, but I have a hard time envisioning where else in the United States you could find a screening like that. Of course, Mock’s film is full of humor and pathos from Kushner who more than lived up to expectations as a subject. The film talks in depth about Kushner’s work and inspiration, but he also generously gives access to his personal life and his creative process. After seeing the film, I admire his passion, courage, and commitment even more deeply than before. What can I say, I am a fan.

After dinner, I headed off to see another film that did not disappoint, Cam Archer’s stunning exploration of ‘tweenage’ sexual desire Wild Tigers I Have Known. Having seen and programmed Bobbycrush, the motifs and ideas are very similar Archer’s previous films, but instead of feeling like a retread, Wild Tigers feels like pure transcendence. First and foremost, the structural design of the film is absolutely awe-inspiring; from the Hi-Def photography that burns colors into your eyeballs* to the sound design and music by Cam’s brother Nate, which feels like Matthew Barney’s atmospheric sonic attack in the Cremaster series blended with an encyclopedic knowledge of songs of deep, physical longing. The performances, especially the work of Malcom Strumpf in the lead role of Logan, are all full of vulnerability and energy, which perfectly encapsulate the film’s visual (and metaphorical) dissection of the confusion of sexual awakening. I loved the movie, and while there are some scenes that I will never forget (the turn-on of applesauce, the list of ‘how to become cool’, Nina Simone’s face and voice expressing what Logan cannot), the film is a decidedly non-commercial middle finger to the expectations of your basic narrative coming of age and coming out stories. After the screening, the Q&A featured probing, insightful questions from Cam’s parents and relatives; a very funny coda to the screening. Bed followed a quick cab ride from the Holiday Village. Technicolor dreams of long-lost crushes.

Saturday January 21, 2006: Somebodies

Up at 8:00am for the 9:15 screening of Hadjii’s Somebodies at the Eccles. Again, I loved it. Beyond being a terrific, independent comedy, the film is hard to categorize; I was tempted to type ‘Middle-class African American Junebug meets middle-class Fridays’, but that doesn’t do the film justice. Hadjii (who wrote, directed, and stars in the film) has a light touch and a great ear for jokes and language, but he also creates respectful, honest renderings of everyday situations that never seem to find the light of day in smart, independent comedies; religious faith, tutoring and mentoring, dating, and best of all, personal eccentricity. His characters are not do-gooders with an agenda, and they aren’t criminals or stereotypes; they are young people who are living their lives and having fun. At the risk of sounding like an annoying white liberal, this is a film I have been waiting for. There is some minor reliance on the clichés of Hollywood-ized black cinema (those crazy white people!), but Somebodies is as far removed from a film like Soul Plane or Barbershop as films like Chameleon Street, Hollywood Shuffle, or She’s Gotta Have It are. Sombodies fits squarely in the revelatory tradition of African-American independent film, and in an entertainment business dominated by hip-hop thuggery and sexually objectifying posturing, it is refreshing to see a big-hearted take on life among young, black men. Politics and history aside, the film is really nothing more than an honest, funny good time at the movies. What more can you ask from a comedy?

More soon… off to screenings...

* I think Hi-Def could be the new Technicolor—different palette, but man, the colors just ripped in this print. It was like seeing The Wizard of Oz for the first time.

Before heading off to Sundance on Thursday morning (and scrambling to watch as many submissions as I can before we take off), some news on The Sarasota Film Festival (March 31-April 9, 2006): We have launched our new website! Aside from the nice new design (which is a huge improvement for us), we have created MY SFF, a service that will keep you abreast of films and events and will serve as your online box office for this year's Sarasota Film Festival. No spam, no selling the list to sponsors, just festival information and advance ticketing opportunities for users. I'm really happy with it and it is so nice to have an elegant, organized site. It just launched on Sunday, so there are still some tweaks neccessary, but we will be updating information as the festival draws closer.

Passes, event tickets, and ticket packages go on sale January 30th, the Program will be announced on March 9th at our Press Kick-off, and individual tickets go on sale March 24th.

So, y'know, no pressure to finalize everything. Cough.

Anyway, here's the new site... Click on the image to visit!

Friday night, Zeitgeist Films’ terrific Ballets Russes opened here in Sarasota, and I ran off to see the 8:15 show. It was a wonderful respite from the festival programming routine. Sure, I have been spending every waking hour pouring through films as we are slowly but surely finalizing our line up for the Sarasota Film Festival, so it might be overkill to head off to the local art house and take in a movie. But I was really craving a communal movie going experience, the feeling of watching a film with an audience, of sharing the feeling of discovery, and Ballets Russes didn’t disappoint. A near full house, and everyone was engrossed with the story of the dancers, the ballet wars, and the political intrigue.

I will admit, I have never been much of a fan of dance or ballet because I have never understood the language of the art form. It seemed to me so detached from my own understanding of music and movement, I simply never got into it. That said, watching Ballets Russes tonight, I felt doors opening in my head. Seeing the archival films of the dancers filled me with an enormous longing; there is a palpable feeling of vitality and celebration in ballet, this expression of living. I don’t want to overstate things, but I was captivated by the dancers’ performances, and ballet has never made me feel that before. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of the young dancers with their 80-year-old selves, the radical transformation of their soaring youth and beauty into a different kind of flightless grace, but there is something about the film that moved me tremendously. Of course, like any movie with which I connect, it also instilled me with a sense of loss; not just the loss of a dance company (which is only enhanced by the fleeting, temporal nature of the dance performances), but the loss of what was possible in the world.

Let's Dance: Karsavina and Nijinski in the early days...

Everyone has a time or place that they wish they could have experienced, a bygone era with which they identify; mine is the explosion of modernism, the era in which the Ballets Russes was formed and which the trusty Wikipedia* describes perfectly:

”Modernism encouraged the idea of re-examination of every aspect of existence, from commerce to philosophy, with the goal of finding that which was ‘holding back’ progress, and replacing it with new, and therefore better, ways of reaching the same end. In essence, the Modern Movement argued that the new realities of the 20th century were permanent and imminent, and that people should adapt their world view to accept that what was new was also good and beautiful…There was a subtle, but important, shift from the earlier phase: in the beginning the movement was undertaken by individuals who were part of the establishment, or wished to join the establishment. However, increasingly, the mood began to shift towards a replacement of the older hierarchy with one based on new ideas, norms, and methods.”

Can we imagine an idea as powerful and progressive as Modernism defining our own era? An understanding of the world that leads to a creative flowering, to an overwhelming sense of possibility, of transcendence of national identity, of collaborative forms? Until then, it is truly important to me to find hope in looking back, but this is (and completely feels) antithetical to the hope that Modernism fosters; Don’t look back, it teaches. Look anew.

For me, there are two seminal events of that era. First, there is the publication of James Joyce’s Ulysses in 1922. I have written about it before, but it’s a book that I adore despite its undue reputation for being unreadable and possessing an impenetrable ‘gravitas’, and it is the book that truly opened literature and art up to the full range of human subjectivity. Of course, cinema has yet to capture the interiority of Joyce’s work, although I think Au hazard Balthazar may come the closest to the idea. To me, Ulysses still stands as a symbol of what I value most in art; the heroic universe that exists within every single person and the possibility this universe holds for empathy and identification. Ulysses is also a book without a sense of shame; it treats the full range of human behavior and experience, from a funeral to sexual infidelity to a drunken walk through the city streets late at night, as not only normal, but as the source of forgiveness. I hold its ideals close to my heart.

The modernist age was also built upon the singular moment in the history of art I regret I could not have seen with my own eyes; The premiere performance of Igor Stravinsky’s ballet Le Sacre du printemps ( The Rite of Spring) on May 29, 1913 (written, coincidentally, for Serge Diaghilev's Ballets Russes and the great dancer/choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky). The film doesn’t discuss this performance (I assume there is no filmic or photographic record), but its stands up in my mind as one of the most important moments in the history of art.

First and foremost, the music itself is my favorite piece of classical music, hands down. It is just about as beautiful and cinematic as music can possibly get, with constantly changing moods and tone. I am by no means an expert on the subject of classical music, but there is something about the Stravinsky’s compositions that connects with my heart, and for me, Le Sacre du printemps is the motherboard of all connectors**. When listening to the piece, it is sometimes hard for me to remember that it is, in fact, only music; I see a film in my head. And no, it is not Fantasia. I have never seen the ballet performed, but maybe the dance looks something like what I feel.

At the 1913 premiere in Paris, an argument broke out in the audience among supporters and detractors of the piece, and a near riot ensued. Now, I have been to my fair share of punk rock shows where near-riots are de rigueur, but the idea of men and women in black tie coming to blows about the relative aesthetic merits of a ballet is not only exciting to me, it is a testament to importance of art at the time and to the passion of the audiences for ideas. My point is this; art mattered, and for many, it mattered a great deal. I sort of idolize Stravinsky as well; to launch Le Sacre du printemps on the world, to challenge convention with powerful, modern ideas that (I believe to this day) are beautiful and true is heroic to me-- to have those ideas launch one thousand musical ships, to have history prove you right, well, I find it tremendously hopeful. The premiere of Le Sacre du printemps is for me a very modern, very real symbol of the power of ideas to triumph over fashion and superstition; it is the presentation of timelessness to a world fixated on temporal concerns. I just wish I could have been there when it mattered.

I have to admit, these past few months I have been thoroughly disheartened by the political and intellectual climate in the country. Maybe it is constant barrage of enormous tragedy (hurricanes, war, the destruction of New Orleans, the tsunami, the earthquakes) or maybe the lack of collective will to do much about it has inspired this terrible sense of claustrophobia in me. Deep down, I fear that I am living through an era where there is an absolute dearth of new ideas and productive energy, and most of the time feel totally surrounded and boxed in by bullshit. I just don’t feel a connection between the way in which the world is being framed; the way life and human experience are being represented and the way I try to live my own life are at an extreme disconnect. My concerns are not those of my own culture, and those like me, living and working outside of this monotonous spectrum of thought seem so quiet. Adrift, like me. This may sound melodramatic, but just for a night, it was a huge relief to escape into a movie theater (darkness and silence, the great levers!) and experience the lives of people who took aesthetic desire and created something from it, who lived lives that were concerned with ideas, with art. Sometimes I worry that writing sentences like that will come off as pretentious and aloof, but I don’t mean it that way at all; I know there are vital artists working today and I am a true believer in the power of art to foster empathy in the world. But I also know that right now, longing and empathy are pretty much all I have in the tank. I am feeling somewhat pessimistic about the future, only because the bad ideas from the past, these small, petty ideas that I thought had been proven irrelevant by history a long time ago, keep rearing their ugly heads. Cycles, I tell myself; the truth will come around again. Hell, maybe one day soon the nation will be proud of scientific truth and will retreat from antiquated notions of morality and art will matter again. For now, I just want the comfort of my own history, to find captivating representations of my own loves and concerns. Small though it may seem, I can’t live without them.

*Where was the Wikipedia when I went to High School? Yeesh! No fair!

** Oh, and you know it is on the iPod as I type this… Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic are rockin’ it.

With only little over a week to go until Sundance kicks off and makes its annual case for the state of American cinema, I have been looking high and low for a comprehensive preview of the festival, and I’m having a hard time finding buzz, news, and overall build-up for this year’s event. I don’t think this has very much to do with the films in selection, but more to do with that deep, long breath everyone seems to need after all the Top 10 lists and summarizing of the previous year and just before award and festival season kicks in, full steam ahead. Well, I for one am excited to get to Park City. I haven’t been in two years; I miss dinners at The Grub Steak, cocktails up and down Main Street, but mostly, the five-film-a-day routine that always occupies my ten day trip to Park City. This year, I signed up for an Adrenaline pass (which includes all screenings before 10:00am and after 10:00pm) and am sharing tickets with my colleagues from the Sarasota Film Festival. Despite some technical hiccups on the website, I got tickets for pretty much everything I wanted to see (which is a lot). I also plan on hitting up Slamdance for some films, and with my screening and event schedule, a LOT of naps.

So, as I sleep and take lots of Emergen-C and Airborne in preparation for my return to the snow (oh, how quickly we forget), The Back Row Manifesto presents our Park City Preview, a small (and by no means comprehensive) list of movies to which I am really looking forward.

American Hardcore
This is the music I love. As a tween/teen from 1982-1989, I avoided my mom's neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand records, and raised myself on American Hardcore. Most of the bands showcased in this film are the ones whose records drove me to spend most of 1984-1987 digging through piles of vinyl at Wyatt Earp records in Flint. These are the artists who had me hanging upside down from my the edge of my bed, reading liner notes and rocking out, full blast in my bedroom. These are the bands I headed down to the local union hall to see perform. One of the more problematic issues surrounding films of this type are the omissions (I am pretty sure Minneapolis will once again get the gloss over, and any hardcore story that omits Hüsker Dü can never be complete), but this almost always comes down to who will participate in the film. Still, 98 minutes of Bad Brains, Black Flag, Minor Threat, Dead Kennedys, D.O.A. (ha!) and the like can only bring a smile to my face. How low can a punk get?

A Skinny Little Henry Rollins gets some air as frontman for Black Flag (circa 1981): Photo from Paul Rachman and Steven Blush's American Hardcore

Clear Cut: The Story of Philomath, Oregon
Peter Richardson’s documentary about the tenuous relationship between a school system and the logging community it serves is an open-minded report from the front lines of the culture wars. The drama surrounds a scholarship, originally created to be given in perpetuity, and how changes in the local community (and personal hard feelings masquerading as ideology) might possibly bring an end to the philanthropy. The film is a tragedy, and very well made. I hope it finds an audience in Park City.

Half Nelson
Director Ryan Fleck and his producer Anna Boden, my (former?) neighbors in Park Slope, have made a few really great films already (Young Rebels was a terrific documentary about hip hop in Cuba, and the Sundance winning short Gowanus, Brooklyn was also outstanding) and Half Nelson looks to be another. The film appears to be based on Gowanus, Brooklyn, but that is no surprise; that film seemed ripe for a feature length treatment from the get-go. Interested to see where they take it.

Kinky Boots
This film looks like a lot of fun, and also signals the first post-Weinstein Miramax film that I will get to see. I am excited to see it and frankly, I just like watching Chiwetel Ejiofor because I think he is a great actor and he always has my empathy (plus, I think he sings in this one). What can I say, there are some actors to whom you just relate. Looking forward to it.

A Lion In The House
I programmed Steve Bognar’s fictional short Gravel at Nantucket a couple of years ago, and I have really admired his work since getting acquainted with it. Plus he's from J's hometown of Dayton, OH, so I am interested in supporting a midwestern filmmaker as well. Compared with what I have seen of Bognar's work, A Lion In The House looks to be another beast altogether; a documentary about children undergoing cancer treatment that, at almost four hours, promises to put my gut and heart through the ringer. Whenever I see documentaries of epic length, from the excellent Love and Diane to the awesome Into Great Silence (which is also at Sundance), I always walk in wondering how the filmmaker will approach their subjects; will it be ‘direct cinema’ or ‘verité’? By the time I leave, it usually never matters. I am very interested to see how Steve and his co-director Julia Reichert tell this seemingly harrowing story.

Off The Black
Another rising filmmaker whose short film (Junebug and Hurricane) we had the pleasure to program at Nantucket, I really like James Ponsoldt’s filmmaking style. This story, featuring Nick Nolte in the lead role, seems to be a solid, interesting story about masculinity with which I think James can do a nice job. This year’s program seems full of first time feature film directors, so I am really excited to see how this year’s class delivers on their own unique visions, but I know this film will be quality.