Last year, one of my favorite on-line experiences from the Cannes Film Festival was the NY Times Cannes Blog, written by Manohla Dargis and A.O. Scott. Their insights into the day to day grind of the festival, the petty behind the scenes intrigues and reactions to the films, reminded me of the energy and vitality of the screenings. Watching a movie in the Palais is an experience like no other.

This year, I have been listening with great pleasure to the podcasts that Ms. Dargis and Mr. Scott have produced, and they are even more fascinating; Interviews with everyone from IFC Films' always eloquent Ryan Werner to cinephile extraordinaire Pierre Rissient to the engine of the Cannes Press Conferences (and New York FF regular) Henri Behar. Links to the MP3's below, so take some time in preparation for the awards tomorrow to give a listen; All signs point to a showdown between Julian Schnabel and the Coens. Will the international jury reject American filmmakers? Will Matthieu Amalric win the Actor award (fingers crossed?) It sounds like it was quite a year at the festival... So much positivity! Can't wait to see these films stateside...

Ryan Werner with Manohla Dargis
Henri Behar with A.O. Scott
Nick James with Manohla Dargis
Joel and Ethan Coen with A.O. Scott
Pierre Rissient with A.O. Scott
Howard James with Manohla Dargis

The road to Athens ran into a dead-end last night in Greece as Liverpool FC lost in the Champions League Final. Congratulations to AC Milan and their supporters for winning their 7th European Cup. Liverpool are left to rue missed opportunities and despite playing very attractive football and creating several gilt-edged chances, we were unable to finish all night long; Only the hard-working Dirk Kuyt's consolation goal in the dying minutes gave us hope of another miracle against Milan. It was not to be.

I won't point fingers, but Rafa Benitez (our manager and tactical master) knows that changes have to be made to the team in order to achieve our ambitions at the top levels of European football; He's already announced his plans for change a mere day after our team, notorious for winning Cup Finals, lost the biggest match of the year. I'll admit, we've been spoiled by success in recent years; Two European Finals (one win), an FA Cup. I believe in Rafa and Liverpool to overcome this set back and get it right next year, both in the league and in Europe. I am looking forward to big things and a fun summer of transfers. You'll Never Walk Alone! Roll on 2007/08!

With apologies to Oliver Stone, a brief summary of Liverpool FC's road to Athens and tomorrow's Champions League Final. I'm so nervous that I can't sleep. Come on you Reds! Bring home Number 6!

Thanks to the tireless efforts of my dear friend (and Sarasota Film Festival roomie), the über-talented Colin Panetta, The Back Row Manifesto has a new look! I am really grateful to Colin for doing these banners for me; I think they look great. I am also enjoying my lame stab at an appropriate color scheme as well...

Thanks again, Colin!

While everyone else is in Cannes, news from Stu over at The Reeler that J. Hoberman and Scott Foundas, two alt-weekly legends, have replaced John Powers and Philip Lopate on the New York Film Festival selection committee. I think this is great news for cinephiles as I know both Hoberman and Foundas are both incredibly passionate advocates for challenging, engaging international films. As much as I admire Powers and Lopate (whose Totally, Tenderly, Tragically is my all-time favorite film book), I am very much looking forward to seeing what changes and sensibilities the new committee members bring to the program this year. The New York Film Festival, following on the heels of the delirious, six-film-a-day gluttonous marathon that is Toronto, is a wonderful tradition for me; Each year, the festival unspools two films per day while New York City makes the leisurely turn to autumn. The seasonal attributes are no small thing; I consider The New York Film Festival to have a palpable, physical presence for me, a combination of a daily pilgrimage to the Upper West Side, the scent of autumn in the city, the sounds of conversation and opinion rippling among friends and colleagues; It's just fucking lovely.

In reading Stu's article, he quotes an unnamed "critic from a national weekly" as saying

"Oh, goodie: Two white men replace two white men on [the] prestigious NY Film Festival selection committee. How absolutely avant-garde!"

Hmmm. Not many "national weeklies" left out there. Wonder who it could be? That said, this is a tired argument. While Hoberman and Foundas' tastes seem to fit comfortably within the boundaries of the NYFF's mission to bring the best international filmmaking to the festival, I am wondering why a) the choice must be mocked? The haughty 'how absolutely avant-garde' is pure snark ... and b) why the race/gender card? Which critical/programming minds would you have suggested that were overlooked and are more qualified than Hoberman and Foundas? It's easy to take cheap shots, but I would love to hear the names of people better qualified for the committee. Again, why not make an argument for a qualified candidate who you believe would deliver better programming choices and more diverse selection? No offense, but the NYFF's commitment to world cinema has always embraced people of color and women, so I am curious to know what people think about this issue. And before you level any "spoken like a true white male" criticisms at me, please have a candidate handy who you feel was interested in the position and was overlooked. Let's play fair.

Regardless, this type of snarky criticism is just the type of thing the NYFF seemingly always has to endure; Playing the role of stodgy, conservative institution ripe for overthrow in constant juxtaposition with TriBeCa. Again, from The Reeler:

"Backing that up, Voice critic Nathan Lee got even more specific. 'I'd like to see (Tribeca) shake up the New York Film Festival,' he told me. 'And they clearly are, at least internally....Don't get me wrong, I love the New York Film Festival. I'm into their quality control, I adore the Walter Reade, there are some very smart people involved -- the whole thing. But there are ways they could shake it up. I think the whole sensibility could be ballsier, take bigger risks. I definitely think the selection committees could use some fresh blood. When was the last time they had someone under 40? I'd love to see the program reach out beyond their uptown subscriber base. ... Ultimately, I'd like to see them move toward each other -- for Tribeca's quality to get better and to be a little more focused and disciplined and forward-thinking. And for New York to move toward Tribeca: Be a little looser. Sprawl a bit. Get funky.'"

What I find most troubling about this quote and this misperception is that somehow, the NYFF should change for the sake of being more like TriBeCa. No offense to Nathan Lee, but the last thing in the world the NYFF needs to do is bring a sprawling, loose approach to its programming. Ballsier and bigger risks? Again, name the film. What title was overlooked that would signify a ballsier, bigger risk? What does that even mean in the context of a film program? Do you mean younger, American independent filmmakers? Go to Gen Art. Or TriBeCa. Or Brooklyn Underground. Or Brooklyn International. Or Rooftop Films. Or Coney Island. Or New Fest. How about New Directors/New Films? ResFest? New York Independent Film and Video Festival? IFM? The New York Video Festival, then? No city in the country showcases as much American independent cinema as New York. Who among them is showcasing emerging foreign directors like Barbara Albert, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Tahani Rached, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Emmanuel Bourdieu, Hong Sang-soo and Bong Joon-ho? That list was just from NYFF 2006; I am sure any of the other festivals in the city would have killed to have shown these films (with the directors and actors in attendance, no less). That criticism makes no sense to me. What is a bigger risk than showing These Girls in a 2000 seat theater?

As for the idea that the NYFF needs to get funky, well, someone isn't paying attention; The festival's annual Views From The Avant-Garde selection is one of the most important avant-garde programs in the nation and the festival's annual retrospective this past year featured the films of El Topo director Alejandro Jodorowsky and this year will showcase Joaquim Pedro de Andrade. I'm not sure what Nathan means by "funky," but I think that might be the worst idea I've read in a long time. More parties, perhaps? Yawn. If anything, the NYFF should redouble its commitment to providing a serious platform to the best in international cinema because, as the premiere showcase for foreign film in the United States (again, name a festival that does a better job...), cinema needs the NYFF more than ever. I certainly have my own criticisms (The NYFF should work harder to include more non-fiction filmmaking, having missed the boat on films like Into Great Silence, Herzog's non-fiction explosion and Ghosts of The Cité Soliel in the past few years, to name just a few), but all in all, it is a tremendous festival and one of which we should be proud to call our own. The idea that the festival should take movies less seriously is a terrible misconception; What we need is more seriousness.

With the appointment of Foundas and Hoberman to the selection committee, not only are the tradition and legacy of the festival program in excellent, well-qualified hands, but their passionate support for and commitment to international cinema (along with their understanding of film history) leads me to believe that the NYFF is doing the right thing; They're taking the long view. The festival is celebrating 45 years this fall (minus the home turf of Alice Tully Hall, which should be interesting) and I expect another tremendous event. How about some congratulations and thank yous?

Doubts? Let's talk in the comments below. I am really interested to hear reasoned arguments on this subject.

I am missing Cannes for the seventh year in a row. It's the most amazing cinematic experience and a place where I feel all festival programmers should be; The world comes to Cannes and I will work to see if I can't make it next year... again...

In the meantime, I'll be enviously watching from afar as the celluloid unspools, meetings unfold, connections are established, partnerships arranged and the business of Cannes sets the agenda for the next year or so. And as I always say... Next year in Cannes!

Looking forward to the coverage... Bonne chance to all the artists and I hope everyone has a great time.

Grr. I sprained my ankle on Saturday night, which effectively ended my plans for Sunday's screening of Ma Mere at BAM (it is on my Netflix Queue now), but before I ruined my recent running program (I was up to 3.5 miles which, starting cold after months of inactivity, was a nice start), I was able to take in a few films this weekend. I started off on Thursday night with a screening of Philippe Garrel's Le Lit de la Vierge (The Bed Of The Virgin), which was shown in an absolutely gorgeous black and white cinemascope 35mm print. The film, essentially an undercooked tone poem on the life of Jesus performed by beautiful, young people at the high of the sexual revolution, didn't do much for me as a cohesive work of art. Yes, there were several visually stunning sequences, but they were almost always undermined by half-baked narrative ideas; Mary Magdalene having sex with men who pay her in rocks is not a great idea, but having her say "Did you bring me rocks?" every time she is on screen amounts to narrative suicide. Imagine the incoming freshman class at an upper-class Parisian art school with no history department being forced at gunpoint to improvise a play about the life of Jesus, and you probably get this movie. I ran into a friend at the screening, and he really loved it. The images were beautiful, but what can I say? Hippies who imagine themselves as saviors are not my cup of tea.

The next night, it was back to BAM and Generation Garrel for the one-off showing of Christophe Honoré's Dans Paris, which is a movie I loved to death. The story of two brothers and the impact of a sibling's suicide on their own personal relationships, Honoré's film was funny, moving, stylish and full of life. Romain Duris plays Paul, the older brother whose break-up with his lover has left him so devastated that he moves back home to Paris to live with his divorced father and Jonathan (Louis Garrel,. in his best performance yet), his Antoine Doinel-ish lothario of a younger brother. The things that Honoré gets right are too numerous to mention, but by example, a stand-out sequence; Watching Paul's relationship dissolve in non-sequential, non-linear moments was a deeply moving portrayal of the thought process that marks end of a relationship. That is to say, what Honoré does in this sequence is give the impression of memory, of remembering the details of a break-up. Little moments that rhyme with one another, that compile, that remind Paul of other antithetical moments; Things that are lovely, things that are cruel. This sequence was almost like a separate film within Dans Paris and gives the movie an almost novelistic feeling, where tone and point of view and style are allowed to shift to perfectly articulate the depth of experience of Paul's loss.

Wave Goodbye: Romain Duris and Joanna Preiss in Christopher Honoré's Dans Paris

And depth is necessary, because once Paul lands back in his father's house, the charming and comic Jonathan steals the show. Jonathan is the perfect vehicle for Honoré to pay homage to the Nouvelle Vague; young, stylish, without a care in the world, he spends his days seducing beautiful women with an ease and fluidity that almost masks the hurt at the center of all of his conquest. It is only in contrast to Paul's deep suffering that Jonathan's role as bonne vivant can be seen as the opposite side of the same coin; His refusal to forge anything meaningful and lasting in his relationships with women leaves scars of its own (personified in a lovely performance by Alice Butaud as Alice, Jonathan's ex-lover). Honoré is not afraid to throw every device in the book at us (high speed montage, a musical sequence!) or to steal (and thereby rhyme) shot after shot in order to bring memory and depth to the forefront of our experience in watching the film. Add in an amazing and timeless jazz score by Alex Beaupain, and Dans Paris stands as one of my favorite films of the year so far. IFC First Take has the movie, so catch it at the IFC Center when it arrives in the theater later this year.

Bed and Bored: Alice Butaud and Louis Garrel in Dans Paris

Back in Brooklyn, and honestly, very little time for reflection since returning; Moved all of my belongings back into the apartment and used the opportunity to re-organize the place, leading to a several large bags of recycling, Salvation Army donations and some trash. I am still in the process of removing it all from the place, but it feels like a much-needed purge in many ways; A clean slate, tabula rasa, my own wash/rinse/repeat. I have a new desk (thanks Hub!) and it has forced me to reorganize my workspace here in the home office. This has been a boon if not to my productivity, then to my sense of it. I feel organized, focused and privileged to be doing what I love.

All of this transition was thrown into sharp focus when I headed over to the IFC Center yesterday morning to catch Charles Burnett's unbelievable Killer of Sheep. In Florida, I had been reading reviews of the film with jealous eyes; Killer of Sheep is one of the films I have been longing to see ever since I caught a glimpse of it in Thom Andersen's wonderful Los Angeles Plays Itself. After making the exhausting transition home to NYC, a movie was the perfect tonic for my own post-festival blues. I hopped the D train and got to it.

From the moment I slipped into my seat, I was absolutely mesmerized by the beauty of the print itself; Major kudos to Steven Soderbergh and the UCLA Film Archive for their efforts to restore the film as it looked gorgeous. Immediately, life in mid-1970's Watts is brought into deep, resonant focus; A Greek chorus of children playing among the debris and rubble that make up the remnants of the Watts Riots of 1965 echo the abandonment of post-Katrina New Orleans. Here we are, a decade after Watts exploded, and the community remains mired in poverty and, more importantly, exhaustion. A profound sense of fatigue is palpable in every frame of Burnett's film, each hustle and day of work leading only to misfortune. While the adults struggle, Burnett's detached observation of children at play in unsafe, unsupervised environments immediately parallels the inability of the grown-ups in the community to make any waves at all; They are so deeply engaged in the struggle to hustle and survive that no one is able to look out for anyone else. These detachments run the gamut of human relationships, from father to child, husband to wife, neighbor to neighbor and, most profoundly, man to his work. When people in the film do finally connect, the sparks come flying off of the screen.

Two scenes in particular highlight Burnett's dialectics of emotional detachment. The first moment comes during a conversation straight out of a Stanislavsky acting class where Stan (a phenomenal Henry Gayle Sanders) sits with a friend at the kitchen table. As they drink coffee in relative silence, Stan touches the cup to his cheek and is reminded of making love to a woman. Having witnessed Stan's continued frustration of his own wife's desire (played with deep feeling by the beautiful Kaycee Moore), including a stunning scene when Stan plays with his daughter and inspires sexual jealousy in his wife, watching him confess his sense of sexual longing is a dazzling moment.

A Perfect Storm In Tea Cup: Stan Confesses

The second and parallel moment, comes when Stan and his wife, wrapped in the shadow of a dirty window, slowly dance to Dinah Washington's performance of The Bitter Earth. Her hands digging into his shirtless back, her sexual desire unfulfilled and her knowledge of the unbending reality of her situation as a wife and woman; This moment was transformative for me. As cinematic a definition of longing and regret as you are likely to ever see. The warm touch of a tea cup has replaced the physical reality of the wife, and the alienation of the family is complete.

Dancing With Myself. Together.

Of course, Burnett doesn't judge these detachments, choosing instead to isolate human alienation as a systemic problem in an otherwise vibrant community. This decision, to make the real life hustle of Stan's existence a condition of the absolute reality of his environment, is most famously highlighted by the scenes of Stan's work in a sheep slaughterhouse. Each transition to the workplace is a visual rhyme, a physical paralleling of the lives of Stan's neighbors with the sheep, ignorant of their fate, being lead to the slaughter. Of course, the slaughterhouse is Stan's workplace, a place removed from the eternal stasis of his home life, but it is also the place that contributes heavily to that sense of stagnation. Stan works in the horror of the slaughterhouse, and he wants to escape it, but he has mouths to feed. Sure, the exhausting, mechanized order of the abbatoir provides an antithesis to the streets of Watts, symbolized by the hopeless conditions in which the children are forced to play. That said, the streets are the place where we find life. The genius of Killer of Sheep is found in its deeply moving portrayal of the streets and 'real life'; The images of the community, of lives locked in helpless orbit, of survival in a world built upon struggle.

Another Champions League Semi-Final victory over Chel$ki for my beloved Liverpool Reds! What a match!

Unbelievable! Can't write now...Come on You Reds! On to the Final!

Never Stop Believing!

Pepe Reina Saves The Day! (AP Photo/ Dave Thompson)

Dirk Kuyt Celebrates His Winner (AP Photo/ Dave Thompson)

Pepe Reina Celebrates His HUGE Save! (AP Photo/ Dave Thompson)

Over The Moon! (AP Photo/ Dave Thompson)