It is a very rare moment in Academy Awards history when my own tastes and those of the Academy align, so please, permit me a moment of happiness; I loved The Departed and truly believe that "in the universe of Hollywood movies that earn this type of industry recognition, the film is...the superlative piece of work this year." Martin Scorsese makes movies for people who love movies; He is an absolute cineaste whose dazzling virtuosity and ability to tell a story in the visual medium are unrivaled in Hollywood. Yes, I know that isn't a fashionable opinion; It's better to be snarky and defend small films (but I love those, too.) And yes, I know that a cadre of naysayers will be bitching and moaning about how Infernal Affairs was a better movie and how this is nowhere near Scorsese's best work and shouldn't the real Best Picture, say The Death Of Mr. Lazarescu have, in the best of all possible worlds, won the Oscar and blah blah blah. These ridiculous and intellectually dishonest arguments, pitting Scorsese and The Departed against the exclusionary policies of the Academy and the Director's own history of unrecognized (by the Academy, anyway) greatness, well, it simply isn't fair to this terrific movie and one of my favorite filmmakers; You can only win the race you're in and tonight, somehow, Martin Scorsese and The Departed beat the odds and were rightly awarded Best Director and Best Picture of The Year.

Scorsese, DiCaprio and Damon on the set of The Departed

The Best Director presentation on stage tonight was perfect; Spielberg, Lucas and Coppola, walking out together with envelope in hand, were ready to honor their friend and colleague. It was a great moment and reminder of the incredible time in the 1970's when these guys were literally each redefining the Hollywood film; There stood the makers of The Godfather I and II Jaws, Star Wars, American Graffiti, Apocalypse Now and Close Encounters of The Third Kind, movies that defined a generation, awarding perhaps the most consistently accomplished filmmaker of the bunch with his much-deserved Best Director honor. After that moment, I was happy enough and was ready to accept that some other film would win Best Picture. But when The Departed was announced, I was thrilled.

Congratulations, Martin Scorsese. Your work has been a cornerstone of my own love and appreciation of the movies and The Departed blew me away; No movie this year riveted me to my seat (with a huge smile on my face) like your film. That is a MOVIE. I am so happy for you and I can finally say, with a clear conscience, that tonight, the Academy got it right.

In a typically excellent and provocative post, Anthony Kaufman asks some good questions about the role 'alternative' distribution (TV, DVD, On Demand) can play for filmmakers seeking an audience for their work and why, in general, the film press seems to ignore films premiering in these alternative forms. Is it bias and snobbery or is it a conservative rejection of the new in order to prop up traditional (and shrinking) models?

For me, alternative platforms for film distribution are, generally, a failure of the medium. In the same way that the Opera critic doesn't cover the PBS airing of Madame Butterfly (or, for example, the recent screenings of the Metropolitan's Madame Butterfly in movie theaters around the country or, say, festival screenings of Kenneth Branagh's The Magic Flute), film critics seem locked into the theatrical model because that is the place where films are INTENDED to be seen. Ask any filmmaker if he or she prefers TV or a straight to DVD project with no theatrical OR a theatrical release, and you'll get the politik answer (if a film is made for TV, a justification of the medium), but there is a reason why HBO rented out the Ziegfeld for for their "premiere" of Angels In America; The theater is the ultimate home for a movie.

One of the great failures of the so-called "day and date" model is (for me) its dismissal of the theatrical experience in favor of the broadest commercial interests. I'm sure it seemed (and to many, still does seem) like a good idea; The theatrical margins for certain films are so slim that a simultaneous release on every imaginable platform allows people to pick their preference. Too busy to go out? Netflix the film! Can't be bothered to deal with a DVD rental? Watch the film On Demand on your cable box! Feel that watching films on TV, with your cell phone ringing and the kids running around while you shout conversations between rooms (which, tragically, sounds a lot like a screening at the local multiplex on a Friday night), is somehow a non-cinematic experience? Go see the film on one of the five screens on which it will play in the whole of America! Live outside of a major metropolitan area? Too bad, but you probably hate art anyway, right?

This seems to me to be making a distinction not of quality but of cost; In a xenophobic, anti-intellectual, isolationist time like this, the best way to get a return on a "difficult" film (that is, almost anything subtitled or 'downbeat') is to spend next to nothing on them. Ad buys and marketing? Why bother? Print making? Minimal. Festivals? If you play them, charge them money to screen and market your film for you in communities where the films won't otherwise be seen. It'll only help your DVD and cable sales down the road and you can turn a nice profit on the backs of small, non-profit arts groups. The most difficult part to swallow regarding this strategy is that the model is a used as a pretext for "art" and is seen as somehow less commercial and more independent. Hrm. I guess if, when you say 'less commercial' you mean lowering expenditures in order to maximize returns, then yes. But that smells like commericalism to me. Let's just call it what it is; Low-revenue profit making. That's the system.

Back to Anthony's main point, though; If TV and On Demand (both on cable and online) are truly the legit distrubtion platforms these companies make them out to be, where is the critical validation? Even The New York Times' weekly DVD column primarily focuses on classics and hard to find films getting a DVD release; Not so much about the day and date DVD titles, with few inches deciated to straight-to-DVD relases. Film critics will write about films getting a theatrical run, but hardly a mention is made of the film's simultaneous cable and DVD release. Is the strategy ahead of the curve? How much money is being made this way? I can't believe it is, even by independent film standards, a commercial success that somehow transcends the income made on a traditional (theatrical, followed by DVD a few months later, followed by cable a few weeks later) roll out. But I don't know the numbers, so maybe I'm wrong.

My Desk (or The Cinema Of Today!)

Where TV as a platform does seem significant to me is as a distinct platform for working artists; I am thinking of a director like Jim McKay, who works on his own films, but also on shows like The Wire and Law & Order: Criminal Intent. There are also artists like Mike Nichols, who made a terrific, large scale miniseries from the aforementioned Angels In America and also delivered Closer for traditional distribution. Lots of independent filmmakers, writers and actors have found work in TV (Tom DiCillo, Mary Harron, Michael Cuesta etc. etc.) and as a commercial enterprise, it is terrific that these artists are able to receive a solid paycheck for their work. That said, the fictional narrative feature is, as a form, something distinct from a television program. Yes, there are made-for-TV movies that can be transcendent, but I'm sorry; Cinemas are the proper context for cinema.

Ultimately, the question boils down to a personal one. Just how important is that context for you when you want to watch a movie? How much does a movie matter to you? For someone like me, who moved to New York specifically to be involved in a thriving theatrical film community, this context is of the utmost importance. And so, as a passionate and dedicated filmgoer, I try as hard as I can to avoid supporting shit and instead spend my money on theatrical releases for films that I want to see and support. Of course, for most Americans, the context issue is irrelevant; It's TV/DVD or you don't get to see the movie. Period. Working in Florida has been an eye-opener; The snobbery in the industry toward non-metropolitan communities is a self-fulfilling prophecy of low turnout; Little is invested and little returned. And yet, the interest is there. A community like Sarasota has multiple film events all year long and our festival generates 45,000 admissions primarily because, despite the presence of a year-round program at the local three screen art-house (of which I am a paying member), most of the 160+ films we'll show in April won't be seen in this community again in a theatrical context. Ever.

Maybe individuals, downloading films for hours on end, gobbling up GB after GB of hard drive space, burning them onto a blank DVD and watching them on their computer, iPod/iPhone or television is the best way to deliver foreign and independent film to audiences isolated by the dearth of theatrical distribution for these films. Or maybe this is just another revenue stream and a way to cut costs while maximizing returns on ever-shrinking investments. Either way, I don't think it's a strategy that is in the best interests of movies or audiences. Bottom lines might be another story.

Since I've been back from Sundance, my blogging has fallen off the map as I have been buried in piles of film screeners, invitations, more film screeners, meetings, planning sessions, e-mail, phone calls and more film screeners. Preparations for April's Sarasota Film Festival are going well, and I have to give a huge THANK YOU to the majority of my colleagues in the April film festival pile-up who have been amazing collaborators regarding scheduling films and talent, print shipping and travel. It's exteremely encouraging to work with so many good people who are able to balance the best interests of their festivals and communities with the best interests of filmmakers and their movies. It feels like we're part of a grassroots community and that almost everyone is working toward a great event and forging a viable network for really great films in this country.

The best part of the whole thing? Not a single mention of a film's "premiere status" among the whole bunch of us. Not a word.

It makes me wonder how this will all be perceived by the community at large. Will havng a bunch of film festivals collaborating and co-operating on showing some of the same movies be seen as busniess as usual? I can assure you, it's not. It has already been a successful year for me because I think I am witnessing the start of a new festival network and I'm very excited by it. I'll come up for air once the catalogue is finished and I can get to announcing what we have in store for this year. In the meantime, best wishes to all of my colleagues and filmmakers (you now who you are) as you ramp up for a busy spring.

Banyan Trees, Sarasota, FL

This fall, a true treasure re-opened its doors in Sarasota when The Historic Asolo Theater at the Ringling Museum of Art hosted its Grand Opening. The theater is an 18th century playhouse from Asolo, Italy that was disassembled under Mussolini and purchased by an Italian art dealer who sold it to the Ringling Museum, which subsequently brought the dismantled theater to Sarasota, where it was reassembled in the 1950's. Whew! It closed a few decades ago, but thanks to the expansion at the Ringling, it has been fully restored and re-opened in the new Visitor's Center of the museum. It's a beautiful space, and one we're excited to integrate into the festival this year.

The Historic Asolo Theater, circa 1958

On October 16, 2006, The Sarasota Film Festival launched a new program at the theater when we began our Monday Night Movies series at the Historic Asolo with a five film documentary program. The series was a hit, a chance for people to experience the newly restored theater and see films that otherwise wouldn't be seen in Sarasota. Four weeks ago, we began our second series, this time ten films from the Janus Films Collection*. The series has been a smash hit here in Sarasota, with hundreds showing up on Monday nights to check out the masterpieces we were able to program.

Tonight, one of my favorite films in the series, Yosujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story, hits the big screen at the Historic Asolo. I can't wait.

Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story

It should be a wonderful night of heartbreak and beauty. Plus, every time you attend, you can register to win a free copy of the Essential Art House: 50 Years of Janus Films Box Set, which we're giving away in a drawing at the March 26th screening of Renoir's The Rules Of The Game (my other personal favorite in the series). If you're in the area on a Monday night, be sure to stop by and catch one of these great movies while we have the opportunity to show them. It is a great experience to see the films in this historic setting, and I hope to see you there...

Treasures From The Janus Films Collection

Previous Screenings

January 22, 2007
La Strada by Federico Fellini
(Presented in conjunction with the 40th Anniversary of The Ringling Clown College exhibition)

January 29, 2007
Children of Paradise (Les Enfants du Paradis) by Marcel Carné (1945),

February 5, 2006
Casque D’or by Jacques Becker

Upcoming Screenings

February 12, 2007
Tokyo Story by Yasujiro Ozu

February 19, 2007
Divorce Italian Style by Pietro Germi
(Presented in conjunction with dell’Arte Italiana)

February 26, 2007
Ashes and Diamonds by Andrezj Wajda
(Presented in conjunction with Sarasota Celebrates Poland and its Arts)

March 5, 2007
Knife In The Water by Roman Polanski
(Presented in conjunction with Sarasota Celebrates Poland and its Arts)

March 12, 2007
The Magic Flute by Ingmar Bergman

March 19, 2007
Summertime by David Lean

March 26, 2007
Rules of The Game by Jean Renoir

*Thanks to Sarah Finklea at Janus for her constant support of our festival.

It's been a long week of screening, e-mail, phone calls, meetings and more screening. Today, it was an irresistible 74 degrees and sunny so I went for a walk...

Sarasota Bay, Saturday February 10, 2007

Anoymous couple watches ships roll in, roll away again

Back to the DVD player...

If this blog can be said to have three causes célèbres, they would be my desire to reverse the ongoing decline of foreign film in the United States, my longstanding defense of Michael Moore and my deep wish to see Martin Scorsese finally get what's coming to him; An Academy Award for his work as a Director. On Friday night, in an effort to both improve my chances in the annual Sarasota Film Festival Oscar pool and get my head out of submissions for a few hours (and re-connect with the experience of watching movies in a public theater), I headed down to the Regal Hollywood 20 to catch a double feature of Notes On A Scandal (which I enjoyed very much) and Scorsese’s The Departed. I know critical responses have been relatively positive for The Departed, but many people have questioned his decision to re-make an already terrific film; Having seen Infernal Affairs, I was nervous on my way into the theater. I had been avoiding The Departed for various reasons, primarily because I didn’t want to be let down by a movie that felt derivative of a superior original* and I wasn't confident Scorsese's style would work in the world of Boston cum Hong Kong cops and robbers. All of the hot air and chatter really got to me and I am embarassed; How could I have lost faith? The Departed fits perfectly into Scorsese’s oeuvre, a near-definitive noir procedural of such ferocious momentum and virtuosity that it left me breathless from the first frame.

Watching such a visually ambitious, masterfully edited opening sequence, in which each character is drawn in the bold, freehand lines that only a master could hope to create, I was immediately reminded of Goodfellas and Ray Liotta’s first-person freeze-frame narration. Everything shown is essential and not a single shot is gratuitous nor wasted; Scorsese’s camera is everywhere at once, grabbing each image by the throat and charging it with a palpable, rhythmic velocity. Watching the dazzling array of shots, each one (again) essential, I was struck by the way in which Michael Ballhaus’ cinematography (to think that this is the same man that shot The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant!!) and Thelma Schoonmaker’s editorial work on the film seemed to be in perfect symbiosis; The cuts and rhythm of the film are a singular statement of intent and vision, a team of gifted artists working at the top of their game. It’s funny I am so glad I waited until after Sundance to see this film. After watching the (completely understandable) parade of budgetary limitations on display in many of the American indies that played in Park City (and similarly, the limitations those constraints place on the ambitions and structure of the storytelling itself), it was nearly overwhelming to watch a master, with endless gifts and tools at his disposal, take this very complicated story of converging parallel lives and strip it to 149 minutes of pure poetic celerity.

For those who haven’t seen the film or the original (I am very late to the game on this one, so that’s probably none of you), a quick synopsis; Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson, in his best performance in years) is the head of Boston’s Irish crime syndicate. In an attempt to keep tabs on the police investigations of his operation, Costello sends one of his best, brightest and most loyal underlings, a sociopathic liar named Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), to infiltrate the police force. Sullivan quickly climbs the ladder and he is placed on the team investigating Costello, his boss, to whom he feeds a steady stream of information about law enforcement’s efforts to bring down the syndicate.

At the same time, the police send Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio in one of the best performances of his already terrific career), a young wanna-be cop from a notorious family, deep undercover by sending him to prison. When Billy gets released, his criminal aspirations and penchant for violence are immediately rewarded; He earns a place in Costello’s gang of drug dealers while giving his masters in law enforcement everything they need to know about the kingpin’s nasty plans. The remainder of The Departed is basically the story of two men, Costigan and Sullivan, each on a collision course; Costigan is trying to find Costello’s plant in the police department from inside Costello’s gang while Sullivan is hoping to uncover the rat in Costello’s gang from inside law enforcement. Violence comes easily and often in the world of the cops and robbers, and each organization is presented as a macho system of bumbling ineptitude and an almost religious devotion to the hierarchical structure of paternalism; When the bosses on both sides fall away (in rhyming instances of patricide), the void they leave behind is filled with a frenetic, almost Shakespearian eruption of blood that would have made Titus Andronicus proud.

Convergence: Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) meets Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) in Martin Scorsese's The Departed

The operatic (that word again!) scope of the tragic story plays perfectly into Scorsese’s strengths as a filmmaker, and he honors the structural parallels of the narrative with enough rhyming, echoing and mirroring to fill a book. It is, however, his use of music and Schoonmaker’s editing that filled me with delight; As Scorsese cuts between his characters, songs burn just below the surface of things, masterfully bridging the tone and structure of the visual changes taking place. Right from the get-go, as The Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter rips through the opening montage, rising and falling with the action, Scorsese’s formal strategy comes through loud and clear; We are in the realm of classical drama, a Faustian world of debts and betrayals where, in the end, everyone gets what’s coming to him.

Which is precisely what I hope happens on Oscar night. I know that The Departed is not Scorsese’s masterpiece, and I am also aware of the Academy’s consistently prudish and hypocritical refusal to “honor violence” at the Academy Awards (unless you're Braveheart and despite the industry's unabashed glee in releasing and marketing the most graphic and poorly executed violent dreck in order to line their wallets). This year, however, the stars may be aligned; Already having won The DGA Prize and The Golden Globe for Best Director, Scorsese seems on his way to a much-deserved victory. I’ve been reading nasty comments here and there online slagging off The Departed as an inferior Scorsese film, but I don’t understand the logic there; If The Departed is the best piece of direction this year (of the nominated films in the category, I think it certainly is the best work of the group), why should Scorsese be forced to compete against his own past snubs? Even Scorsese’s biggest allies are aware of the role history is playing in the debate over the film. In the circular logic of some thinkers, if Scorsese lost for his superior films, any win for The Departed is an honorary Oscar in disguise, a reward not for his direction, but a correction of historical mistakes. That’s bullshit; The man has been class all the way and in the universe of Hollywood movies that earn this type of industry recognition, the film is, in my opinion, the superlative piece of work this year.

The trophy is deserved. This year. For The Departed.

*Having seen The Departed and Infernal Affairs, I think it's a waste of time to argue about which film is better; I like them both very much for different reasons. They're also different movies with the same story, so just as I can like both Heaven Can Wait and Here Comes Mr. Jordan, I can appreciate both films.