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Thursday, 31 January 2019

Sundance 2019: Ritesh Batra's Lovely, Heartwarming Film 'Photograph'

Photograph

Not everything is about falling in love, and being physical. Sometimes just spending time with someone can mean more than anything, and remind us we're not always alone. I adore Indian filmmaker Ritesh Batra's films about the random connections that mean the most to us. His sweet, touching storytelling lets emotions build through the moments and interactions - not just dialogue or story beats. Photograph is Batra's latest film after making two English-language features (Our Souls at Night, The Sense of an Ending) which were his follow-up films to his breakout hit The Lunchbox (which I fell in love with at Telluride 2013). Batra goes back to his roots for this film, telling a story about a friendship between two quiet people in Mumbai, India.

Batra's Photograph is a film that will warm your heart. Nawazuddin Siddiqui plays Rafi, a humble street photographer snapping tourist photos at the Gateway of India in Mumbai, living in a tiny shack with friends. One day he takes a photo of Miloni, played by the wonderfully understated Sanya Malhotra, and notices he feels a connection with her. She is a quiet, introverted young woman who feels pressured by her family and doesn't enjoy much besides studying. He finds her and convinces her to pose as his fiancé to satisfy his grandma's wishes, and they begin to spend their days together. That's as far as this story takes us. This is a lighter film (there's not much to it and not very intimate) but still so warm. Other films it reminds me of as a look at the value of connection are Barry Jenkins' If Beale Street Could Talk, and Mia Hansen-Løve's Maya.

There's much to admire and appreciate about Batra's films, no matter your feelings on the story, especially this one. He is such a tender filmmaker, often deciding to skip over the moments where major conversations or decisions happen. Instead we get to see other more intimate, pensive moments that just feel warm when shown on screen through his lens. He captures the streets and sights and sounds of India in a way few other filmmakers can. One of the best shots in the film shows the characters interacting in the background while the camera points through the hands of another person making chapati at the stove. It's a stunning shot, simple but so perfectly executed. And this is just one of the many subtly beautiful shots found in the film, courtesy of cinematographers Tim Gillis and Ben Kutchins. Batra's films really make me want to visit India.

We're so conditioned with cinema these days to expect more drama, or to expect more romance, and when Photograph spends two hours without going down that route it can be a bit frustrating. Or perhaps, not that satisfying. But that's the point, I think. It's not about that romance - or it doesn't always need to be. Such uncomplicated affection can mean a lot in today's overwhelming times where loneliness and disconnection are rampant. And this film captures that tiny bit of connection between two people that is so vital to them even though it's not tangible in any way. And watching that, watching them connect, is truly heartwarming. I did want to see their future play out, but Photograph is nonetheless a lovely look at the power of kindness.

Alex's Sundance 2019 Rating: 8 out of 10
Follow Alex on Twitter - @firstshowing

Trailer for Composer Biopic 'The Maestro' Starring Xander Berkeley

The Maestro Trailer

"There is music in everything!! I help you to bring forth what is inside…" Freestyle Digital Media has released the first official trailer for an indie drama titled The Maestro, a biopic about the infamous master teacher Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco. The film focuses on a young composer named Jerry Herst, played by Leo Marks, who moves to Hollywood after WWII to study with Castelnuovo-Tedesco - striking up a friendship with him. The cast includes Sarah Clarke, Mackenzie Astin, William Russ, Alex Essoe, Kristen Gutoskie, Jonathan Cherry, and Jon Polito. This looks like another one of these fuzzy, old-Hollywood romantic biopics about a long lost era. And it looks alright, maybe a bit dry but still worth a look.

Here's the official trailer (+ poster) for Adam Cushman's The Maestro, direct from YouTube:

The Maestro Poster

Adam Cushman's The Maestro follows budding film composer Jerry Herst (Leo Marks) as he moves to Hollywood after World War II to study with infamous master teacher Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco. The film is based on real letters between the two men. An array of film and music luminaries - Gene Kelly, Cyd Charisse, Nelson Riddle, Igor Stravinsky, Stanley Kubrick - are portrayed onscreen as they enter and exit the composer's orbit. The Maestro is directed by filmmaker Adam Cushman, making his second feature film after Restraint previously, as well as numerous short films. The screenplay is written by C.V. Herst. This originally premiered at the Sedona and Phoenix Film Festivals early last year. Freestyle Digital Media will release Cushman's The Maestro direct-to-VOD starting on February 19th coming up. Your thoughts?

Olivia Wilde in Full Trailer for Sarah Daggar-Nickson's Film 'A Vigilante'

A Vigilante Trailer

"You start to feel like there's no escape." Saban Films has debuted the first trailer for an indie dramatic thriller titled A Vigilante, the feature directorial debut of filmmaker Sarah Daggar-Nickson. This first premiered at the SXSW Film Festival last year to some strong reviews, and has been playing at smaller fests, arriving in US theaters this March. Olivia Wilde stars as a woman who has decided to devote herself to removing domestic abusers, using specific methods to obscure her identity and guarantee they won't return to bother their victims ever again. The cast includes Morgan Spector, Kyle Catlett, C.J. Wilson, and Tonye Patano. This is definitely a provocative, and maybe controversial film (depending on your views), where violence is being used for good - but this is what makes it an interesting film worthy of your attention.

Here's the first official trailer (+ poster) for Sarah Daggar-Nickson's A Vigilante, form YouTube:

A Vigilante Poster

The film centers on a once-abused woman (Olivia Wilde) who now devotes herself to ridding victims of their domestic abusers. "A Vigilante is painfully realistic: the action takes place in gloomy suburbs during a harsh winter, at roadside motels and in bars and parking lots somewhere in New York state." (Via AFF) A Vigilante is both written and directed by Australian filmmaker Sarah Daggar-Nickson, making her feature directorial debut after a few short films previously. This premiered at the SXSW Film Festival last year, and also played at the Busan and Sydney Film Festivals. Saban Films will release Daggar-Nickson's A Vigilante in select US theaters starting March 29th, 2019 this spring. Who's interested in seeing this film?

‘The Farewell’ Review: A Funny, Heartfelt, and Surprising Tale About Family [Sundance]

At its core, Lulu Wang’s The Farewell is a universal tale of love and loss. It follows a young Chinese-American woman named Billi (Awkwafina) who lives in New York City. Her nuclear family moved to America when she was little, but the rest of her massive family unit is back in China. When grandma Nai Nai (Shuzhen Zhou) is diagnosed with terminal cancer, the family decides to keep the news from her in hopes that her last days might be spent in peace. They organize a fake wedding in China for one of Billi’s cousins as an excuse for everyone to gather one last time before Nai Nai’s death.

Once everyone is together in China, personal histories start to unfold, which form a larger, in depth history of the family. Long overlooked points of tension bubble to the surface during meal times. There is a clear departure in values from one section of the family to the next, but there are no antagonists. Whether it be about the significance of money over contentment, the sending of Chinese students to the U.S. for college, innate responsibilities and roles within the family, or the ethics of Eastern traditions, there is a feeling of profundity in the dialogue Wang writes for her characters.

Wang’s screenwriting abilities are astounding in that she gives all her subjects a fair shake, i.e. a complex reading. You will side with different people on different matters based on your own values and understanding of the issues. The characters are so intricate, so full of life. It’s like walking into a room of strangers you hit it off with immediately. I found myself forming opinions on the relationships between different combinations of people based on legitimate ethical convictions or cultural interpretations.

Wang’s lens is both critical and lovingly appreciative of Chinese culture. She speaks through Billi’s mom (Diana Lin) a critique of the ethos of public mourning after a death in the family (see: Jia Zhangke’s Mountains May Depart for a drawn out, gut-wrenching display of what this looks like, courtesy of Zhao Tao). Sometimes it results in families hiring extras to come cry at funerals to show off, which Wang clearly has some issue with, or at least finds comical.

She constantly addresses the perception of America from the Chinese perspective, and in doing so, addresses and strengthens (for what are primarily American viewers) a realistic perception of China from the American perspective. It feels so rare in its fairness to everyone, considering the near-extinction of fairness and kindness in 2019. She never leans toward the supremacy of either country’s culture; rather, she points out the beauties and superficialities of the traditions and concepts that makeup each culture in all their differences.

Wang also has a great sense of how long she’s let her audience wade in sadness. She never lets us sink into bleakness or depression before making us laugh. And it’s not like there’s just a good amount of comedic relief. This is a comedy as much as it is a drama, and it’s as strong in its comedic effect — mostly played through poking fun at traditions and familial relations — as it is in its deeply felt drama. Everyone in the family has perfect chemistry and timing, constantly cutting each other off and challenging one another like real families do.

The Farewell has everything. It’s laugh-out-loud funny, uniquely heartfelt, and full of surprises — a cocktail of storytelling devices that goes down as strong as it does smooth. It’s revelatory in its treatment of race, culture, modernity, tradition, and all of the shit caught in between. It’s under-girded by a fantastic score made up of string trios, quartets, and quintets.

My biggest take away from The Farewell brought me back to one of my favorite classes in undergrad: bioethics, where the commonality in all cases is the value of the human life, and culture must be thrust under a harsh magnifying glass in the interest of the patient. We read Anne Fadiman’s seminal work of ethics, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, an answer-free look at the drastic difference in Eastern and Western practices in medicine.

Five minutes in, I was lightly frustrated by the film’s premise (an intended frustration, I believe). I was practically screaming inside, “You have to tell her!” It felt unethical to keep the details of one’s own forthcoming death from them. And Wang wrestles with that through Billi’s more Western ideals. And in doing so, Wang explains that in China’s more Eastern-minded understanding of community and spirituality in death, family and/or society is responsible for carrying the burden of that death.

In America, that’s illegal, and maybe it should be. But, I walked out of The Farewell comfortable and confident in the family’s decision. Wang really puts us in their shoes, explains the cultural difference, and remains comfortable while critical, as if to tell us that tradition is only as it is healthy. And, while I may not know it in my own life, there is a healthy communal version of death that looks exactly like The Farewell, and it’s as beautiful as any next way of handling such an impossible situation.

The post ‘The Farewell’ Review: A Funny, Heartfelt, and Surprising Tale About Family [Sundance] appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Now is A Good Time to Watch ‘Unrelated’

Now is a good time to get to know British auteur Joanna Hogg. Six years after her last film — the unconventional Exhibition — she is returning to the scene with The Souvenir, a semi-autobiographical account of toxic first love and film school that has picked up an admirer in executive producer Martin Scorsese, rave reviews at Sundance, and a coveted slot in arthouse distributor A24’s release calendar, no less.

That kind of auspicious backing is as ironclad a guarantee you’re going to get that this film is going to be big, but what’s perhaps even more remarkable about The Souvenir is that: a) it’s getting a sequel, and b) the second installment secured a deal with A24 even before the first had premiered.

That a palpably auteurist film like The Souvenir is getting a follow-up is, first and foremost, a testament to Hogg’s ability to craft a story with deep-rooted appeal and legs, but it’s also a clear indicator of A24’s supreme faith in Hogg’s vision. An arthouse film securing backing for a sequel is a rare enough event, but pulling that off even before the waters have been tested is almost unprecedented.

For comparison, this is like if Paul Schrader had already signed on the dotted line for a Second Reformed pre-Venice 2017, or if Barry Jenkins had cut a deal for a Moonlight trilogy a la Richard Linklater before audiences had even been introduced to Trevante Rhodes.

Again: now is a really good time to get to know the films of Joanna Hogg. The most natural entry point into her work is, obviously, her first film, 2007’s Unrelated. But it’s not just chronology that makes this the best movie with which to start. It’s a great introduction to the themes that permeate Hogg’s filmography — namely, family and (upper-middle) class — but more specifically, for all their lead characters’ differences, Unrelated and The Souvenir share a female perspective that proves just as radical in its realism now as it did 12 years ago.

Where toxic love and youthful inexperience make up the heart of The Souvenir, Unrelated’s focus is almost the inverse, charting as it does the effect of middle-age on female sexuality and identity. Out of all three of Hogg’s previous films — the others are the incisive family drama Archipelago and the unconventional chamber piece Exhibition — it’s this shared emotional honesty between The Souvenir and Unrelated that makes this filmmaking debut the perfect gateway into the Hoggiverse for newcomers.

Unrelated’s opening frames tell you nearly everything you need to know about lead character Anna (Kathryn Worth). Illuminated against the pitch-blackness of night, we watch her trudge down a dusty road somewhere in Italy, dragging a suitcase behind her as she nears a Call Me By Your Name-esque villa out of which happy noises are emanating. Anna is alone and, we soon learn, the last to join a vacationing group consisting of affluent old friends and their young adult children. Clearly, no one has thought to pick her up from the airport.

Instantly, we know her to be that member of a group whom everyone dreads being: slightly on the margins, not fitting in quite as well as everyone else, easy to forget about. Her isolation is compounded by the fact that she’s arrived without her husband in tow, the two having just had some sort of serious argument back in England.

But rather than vent out her troubles to old school friend V (Mary Roscoe) and the other grown-ups, Anna opts for the blissful escapism of playing drinking games and going skinny-dipping with the younger faction. Amongst that brood, she finds herself drawn in particular to Oakley (Tom Hiddleston in his film debut), a charming former Eton pupil who exudes the kind of cool aloofness that the wraparound sunglasses sharing his name do their best to give off.

This newfound lust doesn’t so much transform Anna as expose her. Hogg isn’t afraid to capture the excruciating awkwardness of her initial exchanges with Oakley: the paralyzing agony of their shared silences, and the plain self-consciousness in the darting side-glances she frequently sends his way to check if he’s watching her.

These are amongst the moments in Unrelated that feel horror-adjacent in the same way Eighth Grade does, except here, the second-hand anxiety is compounded by the fact that Anna is just as uneasy in her own skin despite being something like triple the age of Eighth Grade’s Kayla. Anyone who’s ever felt like the spare part in a social setting worries that they won’t ever stop feeling that way; Anna is not exactly a comforting example in that regard.

If Hogg doesn’t offer much by way of consolation, she does provide us with something much rarer: a sensitive spotlight on a woman’s midlife crisis, especially as it pertains to menopause, sexual identity, and childlessness. We’re well-acquainted with male perspectives in that regard — Birdman, Lost in Translation, American Beauty…the Oscars love middle-aged men in existential turmoil — just as we’ve grown so inured to onscreen romantic relationships between older men and younger women that a modicum of self-awareness in these movies feels like a deluded hope.

That isn’t always the case, of course: 2016’s Suntan, for instance, is a great example of a movie well aware of the creepiness that can come with that dynamic, and one that’s willing to address its deeper roots (namely, toxic male entitlement). Unrelated works in a similar way, layering in nuance where another film might opt for a cartoonish sketch of female desperation, a la most “cougar” depictions.

There are deeper issues at hand in Anna’s longing for Oakley, and Unrelated reveals them with a pace and sensitivity that never contradicts its documentary realism. In the decade or so since Unrelated’s release, we haven’t seen many films spotlight female perspectives on aging, sex, and childlessness with a delicacy like this (Tamara Jenkins’ Private Life being one exception to the rule here).

Unrelated Worth Hiddleston Hogg

Ultimately, though, Unrelated is a film that resists easy categorization. There is an even-handedness to Hogg’s treatment of its themes that mirrors life; no subject feels over-handled or particularly indulged to the disservice of another. Like life, it feels naked, brutal — an effect achieved in part because of the film’s unrelenting visual style. Here, as in Hogg’s other movies, the sparse editing and static camerawork steep us in squirm-inducing awkwardness, compelling us to soak up every last mortifying drop of social tension.

It feels almost like a sociological case study, a sense that is underscored by Hogg’s aversion to predictability; pinpointing her approach is best done by deferring to Scorsese, who once defined cinema as “a matter of what’s in the frame and what’s out.”

As in Hogg’s other films, the camera in Unrelated frequently lingers on characters while key action happens elsewhere: in one particular stand-out scene, for example, we hear Oakley and his father (David Rintoul) roar insults at each other from inside the villa, but we’re never permitted to see them fume and seethe, the camera holding us captive in the pool area outside.

Hogg’s unconventional approach forces us to witness the acute discomfort of everyone else in the party as they, like us, are made into unwitting eavesdroppers. It’s as if she’s entirely uninterested in what we think of that charged father-son exchange, only how it affects the other members of the group.

Unrelated’s elliptical storytelling only underscores that feeling: car crashes and horse races might make for visually impressive (and obligatory) set-pieces in any other film, for example, but here, they’re merely events to be alluded to and never seen, lest they distract from what Hogg considers to be the “real” action of the film — the social interplay between her characters. That the car crash in particular forms a key dramatic moment in the film makes its absence all the more curious; like a ghost, this un-witnessed event lingers over us, much as the wedding does in Yasujiro Ozu’s Late Spring.

And that’s not the only link you can draw between Hogg’s films and the works of the filmmaking greats, either. It might seem strange to relate Unrelated to the movies of Ken Loach or Mike Leigh — namely because Hogg’s film is set squarely within an upper-middle-class milieu that feels light-years away from Loach and Leigh’s less privileged subjects — but Hogg employs that same laser focus on socio-economic class in her films, and in doing so widens the traditional aperture of British social realism.

Éric Rohmer is another palpable influence, too, with Unrelated’s vacation setting suggesting that Hogg shares in his belief that summer holidays prove exceptional lenses through which to dissect individual identity and group dynamics. You could even mount a convincing argument that Unrelated’s Anna is The Green Ray’s Delphine aged 20 years and transplanted across the English Channel; like Rohmer’s character, Hogg’s lead seems afflicted by the same curse of indecisiveness, here calcified into a life-altering inability to commit.

Unrelated feels both part of a rich cinematic tapestry and starkly original, its release announcing Hogg’s arrival as an acutely observant filmmaker whose absence has been sorely felt in the intervening years. Featuring an astonishingly raw performance from Worth that ought to have earned her the kind of industry attention her young co-star has come to enjoy, this exceptional debut gives voice to a perspective sadly as rarely heard now as it was in 2007.

That we have The Souvenir to look forward to this year is a double solace: not only does it guarantee more Hogg on our horizons, but its subject matter can only mean we’re in for another razor-sharp handling of female interiority.


Unrelated is currently available to stream free (with ads) via Vudu.

The post Now is A Good Time to Watch ‘Unrelated’ appeared first on Film School Rejects.

‘Sweetheart’ Review: A Peter Benchley Pulp Adventure for the #MeToo Movement [Sundance]

The ocean deposits a young woman (Kiersey Clemons) upon the shores of an island. She’s unconscious, stomach down on the beach with the water lapping back and forth over her face. A bright red life-jacket carried her to this spot and saved her from the agonizing, choking death of drowning. She awakens to the discovery of her friend bleeding to death next to her. The ocean dropped him here too but jabbed a chunk of coral in his stomach as a toll for their passage. She jumps into go-mode, pulling her friend to the point where jungle meets sand. She yanks the coral from his body, stuffs the wound with a makeshift bandage, and tears around the island looking for fresh water. Coconut milk will have to do; the woman smashes her way to its liquid, but by the time she returns the friend is a corpse. She’s alone now. Until she’s not.

Two years ago, writer/director J.D. Dillard revealed himself as a filmmaker eager to twist genre conventions with Sleight. Using a budget that one could probably find in the cracks of any Marvel Studios couch, Dillard mashed comic book tropes into a coming-of-age crime drama, and elevated both categories into a delightfully unique experience. Superhero stories could do more than deliver on spandex and punching.

With Sweetheart, Dillard returns to play in familiar cinematic hunting grounds and add a layer of thought atop audience expectations. He trades super-heroics for goofball Peter Benchley novels, oceanic terrors that flutter against biology but are more concerned with pulp thrills than the science that fuels them. We’re not talking Jaws here as Sweetheart wades into waters occupied by the trashier treats of Beast and White Shark.

From the moment humans dared to sail across our infinite seas, stories rose to address the nightmares of such bravado. The castaway story is as classic as they come. From Robinson Crusoe to Gilligan’s Island, this particular archetype offers an opportunity for the hero to battle their complacency and prove their existence. Are you worthy of your life? Fight for it.

Clemons is asked to provide the usual expressions of island survival. She scrounges, investigates, and encounters several solutions to keep herself breathing while she awaits rescue from a random low-flying plane or passing barge. She’s watched and read all the same lost-at-sea stories we’ve consumed, and she adapts quickly to the struggle. Before you know it, she’s already fashioning a spear to harpoon dinner. She’s got this.

Then comes Dillard and his Blumhouse seal of approval. The beach she crashed upon is not one merely interested in starving you or depriving you of civilization. There is something else patrolling the perimeter at night. It stalks, smells, and eats. The indigenous beast first making its presence known by digging up her friend’s rotting body and disappearing it down its gullet. Survival suddenly means more than collecting coconuts and maintaining the fire.

The woman has fought monsters before. While Dillard never specifically spells out past torments, or what actually happened on the boat prior the storm came and dunked her on the creature’s doorstep, we do spot fleeting hints of a life caught in perpetual dismissal. Before the island, she navigated assaults on all fronts, carefully creating a persona that would allow her to bear man’s desire. At least this IT is a horror she can face head-on with spears, rocks, and fire.

The IT is a brute that cannot be handled or manipulated or ignored. With her back against the jungle, her options are limited. Times up. Fuck flight. Fight. And what a brawl it is. Dillard and his creature effects team deliver the goods where the monster is concerned. Sure, there’s some CG covering, liberal use of darkness, and calculated editing to hide the seams, but when the showdown is demanded by the narrative every subscriber to Famous Monsters of Filmland will go home happy.

Sweetheart is a cheap quickie of a monster movie that rages with relevance. It is an unbelievable scenario that many fictional (often male) characters have faced and conquered, but for this shipwrecked woman, the confrontation erupts from a war routinely waged in mundane, tiny affronts. Her strikes stem from an anger that recently reached a boil, and the next monster she faces should already be quaking in HIS boots.

The post ‘Sweetheart’ Review: A Peter Benchley Pulp Adventure for the #MeToo Movement [Sundance] appeared first on Film School Rejects.

The True Crime Dilemma

The world craves true crime. Our thirst for it is apparent in the dozens of Serial-adjacent investigative podcasts and no fewer than 20 seasons of the headline-ripping procedural Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. As of this week, there’s also a Hot Ted Bundy Discourse. That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d have to write, but the combined powers of Netflix algorithms and Twitter’s tendency to default to either outrage or horniness made it so.

If you missed it, the topics at hand are two new projects centered on the life and crimes of prolific serial killer Ted Bundy. The first, The Ted Bundy Tapes, is a four-episode docuseries that debuted on Netflix last week. The second, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile, is a narrative film starring Zac Efron and Lily Collins — the trailer for which dropped days before its Sundance debut. Both are directed by Joe Berlinger, a longtime true crime filmmaker who most famously directed the integral, justice-seeking Paradise Lost documentaries that ultimately helped free the West Memphis Three.

Depending on who you ask, Ted Bundy either was or wasn’t hot and it either does or doesn’t matter. There are points to be made there, but the unexpected discussion calls to question larger concerns about true crime’s spot in the zeitgeist. In our eternal craving for more true crime content, when do we cross over from armchair investigators to shameless rubberneckers? What’s the difference between an ethical and unethical presentation of — and on viewers’ end, consumption of — real violent crimes?

When a portrayal of real-life tragedy crosses over from informative to being in bad taste, tone usually has a lot to do with it. The Extremely Wicked trailer showcases a grinning Efron and borders on comedic, a whiplash-inducing shift from the serious Netflix documentary which immediately turned some people off. Yet focus on Bundy’s looks and apparent affability makes sense since those are factors that empowered him to get away with so many heinous crimes for so long, weapons of distraction that during his lifetime kept audiences hypnotized by his story and in some cases convinced of his innocence. Real violence should never be outright funny, but rarely — as in retellings of press-heavy true stories like I, Tonya or even The People vs. O.J. Simpson — a darkly comic edge can serve a larger point about our own boundary-crossing cultural obsession with morbid stories. Think about the drunk and celebratory crowds that The Ted Bundy Files shows camped out for Bundy’s execution; at this point, retellings of his life would be negligible if they didn’t skewer sensationalistic media coverage along with the killer himself.

People Vs Oj

So, tone matters, but maybe it’s not the bottom line dividing a normal preoccupation with true crime — one that’s rooted in something rational like a passion for social justice or a knack for piecing together clues — from one that’s unhealthy and unethical (see, again, Hot Ted Bundy fans). Early in the post-Serial true crime boom, perceived prestige was a heavy indicator of how much a docuseries might satisfy viewers’ morbid curiosity without devolving into a lurid cash grab. Just as critical readers know there’s a valley of difference between TMZ and the Associated Press, any crime junkie worth their salt would know that hour-long cable docuseries with dramatic narrators and a dozen commercial breaks were, quality-wise, a far cry from the comprehensive, investigative docuseries airing on HBO or Netflix.

With January’s release of The Ted Bundy Tapes and Surviving R. Kelly, our subconscious established standard for true crime media literacy doesn’t hold up. Lifetime has long been known for soapy, corny original movies, but the R. Kelly exposé was a departure: important, engrossing, and exclusive in much of its information. On the other hand, Netflix’s most recognized crime docuseries, including Making A Murderer, Wild, Wild Country, and The Keepers, are comprehensive investigative projects focused on little-known cases, while, The Ted Bundy Tapes is an abridged retelling of a hugely famous story that offers relatively few new insights. Despite our tendency to make ourselves feel better by labeling it as such, visual art never quite fits neatly into the categories of “trashy” and “prestige,” and true crime series are no different.

Aside from perceived humor and potential trashiness, there’s another polarizing factor of the true crime genre: empathy, or lack thereof. People hate to think of serial killers as humans, so any humanizing moment is uncomfortable and is often mistaken for a filmmaker’s over-identification with the killer. It would be easier for us to just see a movie where Ted Bundy is killing people the whole way through than it would be to sit through one that shows him having a family that loves him because we have families who love us. The same principle, oddly, explains the morbid curiosity that draws so many of us to stories like Bundy’s: an urge to understand how a human like him could exist, to learn the dry scientific patterns of his pathology and by doing so allow ourselves to imagine a more orderly, explainable universe. Take it one step further and you’ve got schadenfreude, a sick joy or feeling of affirmation in having escaped the misery that befell someone else. This is by no means a decent reason to consume true crime stories, but it is a very real one that’s empowered by our fear-driven news cycle.

Bundy

Empathy cuts both ways, and true crime has in the past been guilty both of over-empathizing with the bad guys and under-empathizing with their victims. While early reviews out of Sundance indicate that Extremely Wicked falls into neither of these categories, responsibly portraying all involved, there will always be another fresh-from-the-headlines true story around the corner, ripe for the retelling. Another new Sundance film, Mope, tells “the shocking true story” of a porn career that ends in murder and suicide by police. As a part of its advertising, condoms emblazoned with the film’s title were handed out. People are also describing it as a comedy. Later this year, noted controversy-courter and gore-lover Quentin Tarantino is taking on the story of the death of Sharon Tate, whose real-life murder kicked off a victim’s rights movement, in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. These might end up being responsibly told, entertaining or informative movies, or they might not, but we know there will be more where they come from.

The bottom line is this: true crime is about real people whose lives were undisputedly changed for the worse by the events of the story in front of us. We think about the tragedy for a week or a day or maybe even the length of time it takes for Netflix to queue up another series, but the people affected and their loved ones think about it every day. Do responsibly told stories about serial killers and criminals have value? Certainly. If you need proof, look to books like Michelle McNamara’s I’ll Be Gone in the Dark or the CBC podcast Missing and Murdered. The former has a true crime credo we’d do well to take note of, whether we seek entertainment or information: “I’ve always been aware of the fact that…I am actively choosing to be a consumer of someone else’s tragedy.” McNamara says, “So like any responsible consumer, I try to be careful in the choices I make.” Her requirements are simple, yet rare: doggedness, insight, and humanity.

The post The True Crime Dilemma appeared first on Film School Rejects.

New Trailer for Roller Skating Subculture Documentary 'United Skates'

United Skates Trailer

"This is my history. This is my culture. Whatever the situation, we're gonna roll." HBO has released a new trailer for the documentary United Skates, a look at the subculture of roller skating and the few beloved roller rinks that still remain around the country. From filmmakers Tina Brown & Dyana Winkler, this first premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival last year and won the Audience Award there, with a debut on HBO coming up this February. The feature-length doc follows three skaters (Phelicia from Los Angeles, Reggie from North Carolina, and Buddy from Chicago) fighting to save their respective community roller rinks as most of them have closed down. Even though roller skating originated in the 1930s (and became popular again in the 60s/70s), there's a new subculture thriving but all these rinks need to stay open. Check this out.

Here's the first trailer for Tina Brown & Dyana Winkler's documentary United Skates, from Rolling Stone:

United Skates Documentary

When America's last standing roller rinks are threatened with closure, a community of thousands battle in a racially charged environment to save an underground subculture--one that has remained undiscovered by the mainstream for generations, yet has given rise to some of the world's greatest musical talent. United Skates is co-directed by filmmakers Tina Brown and Dyana Winkler, both making their feature directorial debut with this, and currently working on an Empire Skates Documentary short as well. This premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival last year, and also played at Hot Docs, AFI Docs, and the Los Angeles Film Festival, plus a number of other fests. HBO will release Brown & Winkler's United Skates documentary streaming exclusively starting on February 18th, 2019 next month. Anyone interested in watching this?

Rotterdam 2019. Ruin Films

Thirty Years of Motion Pictures (The March of the Movies)
The breadth of programming at the International Film Festival Rotterdam allows something glorious: room for others to build their own domains, unique pockets of how to view cinema and, through it, the world. Sound//vision is one such place, a corridor of exciting, variable programming happening each night in such a way that an attendee could only do that and have a rich, expanded festival experience. There are other pockets of curation in the 2019 program as well: a profile of African-American artist Cauleen Smith (who brought with her a beautiful 16mm restoration of her sprightly, Oakland-set 1998 debut, Drylongso), profiles of directors Charlotte Pryce (which included two lovely live slideshow performances) and Edgar Pêra, and a tantalizing section devoted to spy cinema which adroitly ranges over the mainstream to the arthouse, from Hollywood to the Czech Republic to South Korea, from 1928 to 2018. And then there is the “Laboratory of Unseen Beauty,” a series whose code word, as its curator Olaf Möller described it, was “ruin films”—movies unfinished, abandoned, some picked up by others, some left in a state of incompletion, some never really intended to be shown in a cinema, and all, by dint of them being shown now, are shown as finished films—films finished as unfinished. This state could be “a description of cinema as such,” Möller gleefully noted, and in this laboratory “whatever happens will be interesting.”
This bizarre limbo-state takes on many forms in the retrospective. A paradigmatic example is Thirty Years of Motion Pictures (The March of the Movies), a documentary from 1927 which recounts the short history of the medium up that that point. Originally a clip-based lecture, it was eventually turned into a film that could be toured, but the complete film (or lecture experience) has been historically noted to be three hours long, whereas what remains is only two—it may be missing up to one third of cinema’s history! Other notable gaps include the fact that this film basically only refers to American and Western European cinema and little else, and, more obviously, that its history of film stops in 1927, a history that as long as the medium survives will always be incomplete and partial. Being aware of what’s missing, of the blank spaces that the audience can fill in, points towards the intrinsic “ruin” quality of most documentaries, which, to be shown, always have to halt their investigations. It is also particularly fascinating to see what and who is emphasized: Edison and many other early inventors and alternative cinema machines (the Kinetoscope!), many stars and most unknown by me, Caligari as the example of “film art,” Griffith as one of the few filmmakers named (Méliès another), many different kinds of early color processes (Prizma!), and, for what feels like ages, imagery of the simultaneous technological progression of aviation and film (Paul Virilio would be proud), culminating in a display of naval smoke screen dropped by one plane and filmed by another, creating a curtained oceanic vision out of a science fiction film.
In a program filled with whatsits, the laboratory contained nothing quite as bizarre as His Nibs, a 1921 comedy that absorbed the unreleased material of a nearly (if not totally) complete comedy starring the vaudevillian Chic Sale and presents it as film inside the film. That is: Gregory La Cava, later known as screwball royalty, filmed a framing story about the screening of a film in a small town. The cinema is run by an old codger (the teasingly dubbed nibs of the title), also played by Sale—in fact, the actor plays several different roles in this framing story of the cinema, including a dopey usher, a vaudevillian singer of no talent, a film critic who styles himself as the local censor, and the old female piano accompaniment to the pictures. (The opening credits, suffering heavy celluloid damage, are meant to showcase Sale in each disguise, but due to the poor materials these images have been held in a damaged freeze-frames, which gives the ghastly effect of Sale’s faces degraded and corroded, as if flesh is falling from his skull.) We see much amusing anecdotes in lead-up to the start of the film, including the hostile reception to the terrible vaudevillian, various small-town audience types, as well as a few false starts—such as when a reel of film falls out of the booth and the old man has to hobble down the street to retrieve it! Inside this combination of comedy and, for modern audiences, delightfully particular observations on moviegoing during the era (the projector is hand-cranked by the projectionist!, we get another film: Al Christie’s unreleased A Smart Aleck, which was to be the Chic Sale’s first film, shown inside the movie under the title He Fooled ‘Em All.
This film-within-the-film is a significantly less funny comedy also starring Sale, but it is shown with the title cards cut out by the projectionist because, he says, of rampant occurrences of the audience reading them out loud. Instead, he (Sale as the old man) narrates the picture (starring Sale). As the series curator stated with no exaggeration, this is a “treasure of meta-cinema,” laying a surrealist groundwork followed up more famously in Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. (1924)and something like Hellzapoppin’ (1941). In a combination of taking over the narration and stripping out the dialog, the codger acts as a kind of benshi, interpreting the action as he sees it, and, for example, cutting out a scene of a train journey because “it’s the same in every picture.” His commentary also injects hilarious slang patois into the rather unremarkable He Fooled ‘Em All: a villain’s arrest is described as “City Slicker gets pinched for selling blue sky.” Each cutaway to these title cards also includes a shot of the projectionist cranking the projector, narrating what we’re reading—we’re thus never “in” the original Chic Sale movie, only watching it sardonically with a local audience used to the casual free-flowing shenanigans of their small town cinema. In short, it’s a delight, copping to the absurdity not just of the movies but of the movie-going experience, one in which a sign warns “no flirting is allowed.”
Remarkably, the program featured another silent film survey, but one of even stranger origin and with one of cinema’s most tantalizing loglines: directed by Cinémathèque française co-founder Henri Langlois. Or perhaps, “mixed by” would be a better characterization, as this absolutely unique artifact from 1974 is one massive (near three-hour) edit of French silent cinema from its dawn to 1930. Titled Montage muet français Palais des Congrès, it is, like so much in this series, not exactly a film, only now it has been again projected in a cinema, so there you go. It was originally made by Langlois for a presentation whose origins or motives are unclear, as is the thematic or narrative through-line in the epic, though it is said that when he presented the film Langlois was doing something akin to cutting it together live in the projection booth. It definitely goes chronologically through French cinema, definitely avoids a general historiography and obvious citations, and definitely gravitates towards films shot in Paris, yet none of these touchpoints elucidate exactly what Langlois’s epic essay film was intended for. It was found in the Cinémathèque on the shelves only recently and digitized, embalming what feels like a very specific and quite personal guided tour through cinema, with the guide (Langlois) missing. It plays silently, and it’s up to us, forty years after it was created for a single very specific screening, to make of it what we will. I for one found it one of the most fleet two-and-a-half-hour films I’ve seen, extraordinary and productively perplexing, and delighted in the wide range of movies made in the industrial art’s early years.
Passenger
Where the hands of the artist were ambient and mysterious in Henri Langlois’s film, it was felt vividly in the startling Polish Holocaust drama Passenger (1963). Begun by Andrzej Munk as a drama about a newly married German woman on a cruise ship who recognizes among the passengers a woman who was a prisoner in Auschwitz when she was an SS group leader at the camp, the director died in a car accident mid-way through production, leaving behind bracing flashbacks to the camps and only still images from the contemporary scenes. A second director, Witold Lesiewicz, boldly finished the drama by transforming its address: First, it opens by acknowledging Munk and his death, showing photos of him and therefore suggesting what follows exists halfway between a compromised but finished film and an essay film about a possible way of adapting the remnants of Munk’s production. We then are presented with the modern-day framing story told in a montage of still images, with the only moving images being that of Auschwitz, a truly radical gesture for the weight and importance of history and memory over the frozen, ambiguous present. We see two different histories, in fact, the more flattering, less guilty one the woman reveals to her husband on the trip, and then what is suggested is the true story, more sadistic and cruel, but whose ultimate violence has been elided because it was never shot. So the film ends with a tone similar to a Twilight Zone episode, accented by the dreamy isolation of the cruise ship, as if by watching the film we have been presented with a disturbing possibility, one somewhat archly suggested may or may not have happened, may or may not be worse than even what we show—and yet the fact that it is a possibility at all is what finally is most terrifying. Lesiewicz does the honorable thing for Munk’s project by suggesting what it could be, by then making it his own, and then by implying that the horrors of the war contains multitudes, a fact that the cinema has the power to help elucidate.
Where Munk’s film was thwarted due to unexpected death, a new film by the Indian filmmaker Gurvinder Singh (Alms for a Blind Horse) was thwarted due to institutional interference. Sea of Lost Time was to be a feature film made by Pune’s Film and Television Institute of India, created to highlight the actors and crew from the class that Singh teaches. For this university project he took stories from Gabriel García Márquez as a starting point for the film, which in its best moments has no problem transcending the limitations of its student production to achieve beauty. This is especially true in the haunting love story at its center, where a dead soldier returns to his home town in a dream and reunite with his love. She washes his body and in doing so washes away his wound, and the tender words spoken, glances given, and songs sung in this section ache with the ardor of young love. The two actors here, Anurag Urha and Kritika Pande, the latter whose songs lend a metaphysical tinge to their dreamed love, are exquisite. Alas, for reasons relating to a student protest and strike, the film’s production had to be stopped before it was completed, and while its main story comes to a kind-of conclusion, its side plots two feel like the fragments they are, and the true canvas of the story is only suggested. Yet as with so much of cinema, a whole picture hardly need to be good, or even complete, to be moving, to create an arc of emotion or thought, and Singh adroitly achieves something quite lovely inside his and his students’ film now forever left a ruin.
Le psychodrame
There is no doubt that Gurvinder Singh would have finished his film if he could. But, in one of the best discoveries in Rotterdam’s laboratory, one director actively decided not to finish his own work: Roberto Rossellini. Le psychodrame is a 1956 documentary experiment made for French television that never aired because Rossellini abandoned the production before its completion. This utterly bizarre and engrossing object was made by Rossellini before the Italian neorealist decisively moved from making his art movies for the cinema to making what are called his didactic films for television, movies which took a rigorously educative and factual mission as their purpose to dramatizing such subjects as Blaise Pascal, Socrates, and the Medicis. This impulse for science and a realization of television’s burgeoning power to reach more people is remarkably already be found over a decade earlier than The Taking of Power by Louis XIV (1966) in Rossellini’s collaboration with pioneering group psychotherapist Jacob Levy Moreno, who runs a psychodrama session live for Rossellini's cameras in an effort to explain and show examples for how the technique can bring out more realistic acting.
After a short introduction by a Centre d'études de radio-télévision host, who solicits an American psychologist to explain the method behind psychodrama—which leads to a completely confused description including obscure drawings—we cut to the experiment, which involves a semi-circle of people, presumably acting students but whose identity or motivation is never clarified, who are encouraged to volunteer troubling situations, from which Moreno and his female colleague then conduct improvisatory psychodramatic sessions. First they have the person choose actors to play other roles in their dramatic dilemma—for example, a scene where the subject desires to convince someone to become politically active—and after observing this play out, Moreno will intercede, re-cast some of the roles, and direct the subject to take different perspectives and even different roles, for example having a man play himself as a child and also his own father, talking to his childhood self. It all appears quite muddled as method, and especially as the structure of the activity being filmed is never explained, it all has a bizarre air of being half-staged, half-spontaneous. (This film in facts bears uncanny similarities to Leigh Ledare’s equally extraordinary group therapy documentary, The Task.) What greater shape or context Rossellini might have provided if he had completed the film we won’t ever know, for he left the production as he indeed not infrequently did with other movies. Despite it having introductory and concluding remarks, Le psychodrame definitely feels unfinished, offering only the bare bones of explanation of what we’re seeing. But even in this state it is a fascinating snapshot of the era capturing the pop culture overlap between the latest psychological methods and those of dramatic acting, and while the Rossellini may not have finished it, Le psychodrame is a very vivid prelude to the career shift that was to follow for the famous Italian auteur.
Le psychodrame was never aired and essentially hasn’t been seen by an audience outside of a few rare retrospective rivals such as this one. This unseen quality is a porous category almost by definition, so much so that other films at the festival could be thought of through this lens of watching what has never (or could never) be watched. For example, in a social care center near the festival was an installation of a video by, or at least about something by, Jean-Luc Godard. Maquette expo (reportage amateur) (2005) is a video tour of a diorama built as a model for a Pompidou exhibition the director had planned, but never realized. The exhibition planned to bring into three-dimensional space the art of montage, the artist’s preferred method of filmmaking, creating a spatial and immersive collage of painting, cinema, text, and furniture into thematic rooms devoted to exploring the intertwining of film, art history, and politics that Godard casually describes for us one by one. While we almost certainly will never see the full expression of this vision (the model seen here and other parts of the plans for the exhibition were exhibited in New York gallery in 2018), getting a personal tour by the filmmaker himself through his own imagined spaces was a treat that in its own way easily stands in for what could have been. An installation actually included in the laboratory of beauty was on the other end of the spectrum: Rather than highlight a project never completed, “Temple of Cinema #1: Sayat Nova Outtakes” is an exhibition showcasing all the additional footage made for a production, in this case unused footage from Sergei Parajanov’s sublime masterpiece The Color of Pomegranates (1969). These pieces have been digitally restored and a selection of them were presented in an Armenian church in the city, with multiple screens placed flat as if the audience were browsing illuminated manuscripts on tables. The footage looked fabulous and, due to Parajanov’s style favoring insert shots and tableaux, was nearly as enthralling in its fragmented form as in the organized narrative of the finished picture. In both installations there was the suggestion of an even grander reach for this laboratory of unseen beauty: that while finished films may need a cinema, the ruins of films require no such prescription. Ruins you can discover anywhere.
The Color of Pomegranates

Where to Watch the Movies of the 2019 Sundance Film Festival

The 2019 Sundance Film Festival is underway, and as always we’ll be hearing a lot of buzz about a lot of movies that most of us won’t get to see for a while. But some of them will arrive sooner than later, and others will receive updates about release potential as they’re scooped up by distributors in the coming days. Below is a guide to what movies already have distribution (and maybe a release date) in place and which ones are picked up as the fest continues and beyond. We’ll be adding to the list as we hear the latest from Park City.

Heading to SXSW

David Crosby: Remember My Name (US Documentary Competition) – Music legend David Crosby gets the biographical doc treatment in this film, which next heads to the Santa Barbara International Film Festival before playing SXSW. Then, Sony Pictures Classics will release it in theaters.

Coming Soon to Netflix

February

Velvet Buzzsaw (Premieres) – Dan Gilroy reunites with his Nightcrawler stars Jake Gyllenhaal and Rene Russo for this horror film, which begins streaming on Netflix near the end of the festival, on February 1st. Read our review.

March

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind (Premieres) – Chiwetel Ejiofor makes his feature directorial debut with this drama based on the true story previously documented in the film William and the Windmill, and Netflix will begin streaming it in most of the world on March 1st.

Coming Soon to Amazon Prime Video

Brittany Runs a Marathon (US Dramatic Competition) – Jillian Bell makes a breakout turn in this comedy about a hard-partying New Yorker who decides to change her life. Amazon paid $14 million for the movie and will send to theaters before it lands on Prime Video.

Late Night (Premieres) – This Mindy Kaling-scripted comedy starring Emma Thompson as a legendary late night talk show host was picked up by Amazon for $13 million and will eventually stream on Prime Video after a theatrical release.

Photograph (Premieres) – This Mumbai-set romantic drama is being put out by Amazon Studios, which means after theatrical release, the movie will be streaming on Prime Video.

The Report (Premieres) – Amazon spent $14 million for Scott Z. Burns’ movie about the investigation of CIA torture starring Adam Driver, and that means at some point the movie will stream on Prime Video.

Troop Zero (Premieres) – Bert & Bertie’s ’70s-set comedy about rival girl scout troops competing for a special honor courtesy of NASA is an Amazon Studios original, meaning it will stream on Prime Video following a theatrical release.

The Inventor Out For Blood In Silicon Valley W H

Coming Soon to HBO

The Inventor: Out for Blood in the Silicon Valley (Documentary Premieres) – When this documentary from Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room) hits HBO later this year, some fans might confuse it as being connected to their comedy series Silicon Valley.

Leaving Neverland (Special Events) – This widely buzzed about four-hour documentary laying out sexual assault accusations against Michael Jackson is due to broadcast on HBO sometime this year.

Native Son (US Dramatic Competition) – Rashid Johnson’s adaptation of Richard Wright’s novel of the same name was expected to hit theaters via A24, but they were forced to unload it and now the movie will broadcast on HBO later this year.

Coming Soon to Hulu

Ask Dr. Ruth (Documentary Premieres) – This film about the iconic sex therapist Dr. Ruth could be this year’s RBG, and like RBG it’s heading to Hulu, probably after a theatrical release via Magnolia Pictures.

Little Monsters (Midnight) – Three adults guard a bunch of kids against zombies in this horror movie which will stream on Hulu following its theatrical run from Neon.

Coming Soon to CNN

Apollo 11 (US Documentary Competition) – CNN Films is one of the producers of this moon-landing doc, so we can expect it to air on the cable news network one day. Read our review.

Halston (Documentary Premieres) – While The Orchard just picked up this documentary on the titular fashion designer for a Spring theatrical release, the film is set to premiere on CNN in “the third quarter” of this year.

Coming Soon to DirecTV

The Hole in the Ground (Midnight) – A24 will have this family-centered horror film in theaters in March (see below), but first DirecTV will exclusively premiere it on VOD towards the end of the festival on January 31st.

Coming Soon to Apple’s Streaming Service

The Elephant Queen (Kids) – Chiwetel Ejiofor narrates this nature film about a mother elephant, which is joining all of Apple’s upcoming original series on the company’s new streaming service.

Coming Soon to Discovery Channel

Tigerland (US Documentary Competition) – Oscar-winning director Ross Kauffman (Born Into Brothels) and Oscar-winning producer Fisher Stevens (The Cove) teamed up for this nature film about tigers in the wild, which will air on the Discovery Channel.

Birdsofpassage

Coming Soon to Theaters

February

Birds of Passage (Spotlight) – Colombia’s entry for the foreign-language Oscar, about an indigenous family involved in the drug trade, didn’t get the nomination but will hit US theaters on February 13th via The Orchard.

March

The Hole in the Ground (Midnight) – Following its exclusive run on DirecTV’s VOD service, A24 will put the horror movie in theaters on March 1st.

Photograph (Premieres) – This Mumbai-set romantic drama is being put out in theaters by Amazon Studios on March 8th.

The Mustang (Premieres) – Focus Features will put out this drama about a convict in a program working with horses on March 15th.

April

The Biggest Little Farm (Spotlight) – Filmmaker John Chester documents his development of a sustainable farm in this feature, which Neon is putting in theaters on April 5th.

May

The Tomorrow Man (Premieres) – John Lithgow and Blythe Danner star in this romantic drama that Bleecker Street Media is putting in theaters on May 17th.

Spring

Halston (Documentary Premieres) – Frederic Tcheng’s new documentary about the titular fashion designer was picked up by The Orchard, who previously released Tcheng’s Dior and I, with plans for a Spring theatrical release.

Summer

Brittany Runs a Marathon (US Dramatic Competition) – Jillian Bell makes a breakout turn in this comedy about a hard-partying New Yorker who decides to change her life that Amazon paid $14 million for. They plan to release it in late summer.

The Farewell (US Dramatic Competition) – Lulu Wang’s comedy about a Chinese family who throws an impromptu wedding in order to see their grandmother before she dies was picked up by A24 for $7 million and plans to release it theatrically this summer.

Late Night (Premieres) – Amazon picked up Mindy Kaling’s late night talk show host comedy for $13 million and will release the movie in theaters in early summer before it begins streaming on Prime Video.

The Nightingale (Spotlight) – Jennifer Kent follows up The Babadook with this revenge drama, which IFC Films is releasing theatrically something this summer.

The Mountain (Spotlight) – Kino Lorber picked up this drama starring Jeff Goldblum and Tye Sheridan ahead of the festival and will release the film theatrically sometime this summer.

Fall

The Report (Premieres) – Amazon spent $13 million for Scott Z. Burns’ movie about the investigation of CIA torture starring Adam Driver, and yes that means at some point the movie will stream on Prime Video, but first will head to theaters in the fall. Read our review.

Apollo

TBD

Apollo 11 (US Documentary Competition) – CNN Films is one of the producers of this moon-landing doc, so we can expect it to air on the cable news network one day. Before then, Neon will release it to theaters. Read our review.

Ask Dr. Ruth (Documentary Premieres) – This film about the iconic sex therapist Dr. Ruth is set for a theatrical release via Magnolia Pictures.

Blinded by the Light (Premieres) – Gurinder Chadha’s latest follows the coming of age of a Pakistani boy in 1980s England whose life changes when he discovers the music of Bruce Springsteen. New Line/Warner Bros. spent $15 million for the rights to the crowd-pleasing hit.

David Crosby: Remember My Name (US Documentary Competition) – Music legend David Crosby gets the biographical doc treatment in this film, which Sony Pictures Classics will release in theaters.

Hail Satan? (US Documentary Competition) – The latest documentary from Penny Lane (Nuts!), about the religious group The Satanic Temple, is due in theaters and possibly same day on VOD courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco (US Dramatic Competition) – This gentrification drama co-written by star Jimmie Fails about his own experiences is produced by Brad Pitt’s company and is set to be released by A24, just as Moonlight was a couple years ago.

Little Monsters (Midnight) – This zombie horror movie was jointly picked up by Hulu and Neon, with the latter planning a theatrical release.

The Lodge (Midnight) – A woman and her new stepchildren are stuck in a haunted cabin in this horror movie picked up by Neon for $2 million for theatrical distribution. Read our review.

Luce (US Dramatic Competition) – Julius Onah’s adaptation of J.C. Lee’s play about a high school student adopted 10 years earlier from Eritrea was picked up by Neon for a theatrical release.

Maiden (Spotlight) – Sony Pictures Classics picked up this documentary about an all-female sailing crew in an around-the-world race after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival last fall. The distributor will release it theatrically this year.

Share (US Dramatic Competition) – Pippa Bianco has turned her own award-winning 2015 short film into a feature-length thriller, and A24 currently has this on their docket for the coming year.

Troop Zero (Premieres) – Amazon Studios will give this ’70s-set comedy about rival girl scout troops a theatrical release before its eventual arrival on Prime Video.

Where’s My Roy Cohn? (US Documentary Competition) – Sony Pictures Classics acquired this documentary about Donald Trump’s mentor and will put the film in theaters.

The post Where to Watch the Movies of the 2019 Sundance Film Festival appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Wednesday, 30 January 2019

‘Star Trek: Discovery’ is Teaching Us to Hope Again

With news of new Star Trek projects coming from every direction these days, it’d be easy to forget the one that launched this Trek renaissance, Discovery. The show has gone through some rough patches, both in front of and behind the camera, but the currently airing second season is giving us reason to hope again. And whether you drifted from the show during its first run, or are still yet to dive in, there couldn’t be a better time to beam aboard.

In the early days, Discovery could hardly catch a break, with fans swearing off it for all manner of reasons. Some understandable, such as the show airing on CBS’ own streaming platform, and others less so, like Discovery looking considerably more polished than a show made in the ’60s (if you’re wondering why this is even a complaint, well, that’s fandom for you). And that was all before the first episode had even aired.

By the time we actually got to see the show, it felt as though every argument, every scorching hot take, had been exhausted, and many fans seemed to have dropped off mid-season. But how was it? Well, like almost every Trek first season, it was something of a mixed bag. In many ways, Discovery felt like a fresh, modern take on the Star Trek universe, from the first-rate visuals to the nicely diverse cast. On the other hand, the storytelling was a little all over the place, while the pacing often felt clunky. And no matter how many times the characters stated how important the Klingon War was, the conflict was too far off in the background to really get invested in. The Dominion War, this was not.

But I’m here to tell you that things have changed, and the currently airing second season is a breath of fresh air. With a simplified, more accessible story and a greater focus on exploration and moral dilemmas, Discovery is beginning to resemble the Star Trek of old. A feeling of hope and optimism that many felt was missing in season one is returning, albeit without sacrificing what set the new show apart in the first place.

This starts with the introduction of Captain Christopher Pike (Anson Mount) in the first episode, “Brothers.” I was admittedly concerned about the introduction of recast Original Series characters, but the moment Pike sets foot on Discovery, all that goes out the window. Mount is effortlessly charming in the role, full of warmth and charisma, allowing Pike’s efforts in bringing the crew together to put them, and us, at ease. He has a kind of Cool Stepdad Energy™, letting everyone know that he’s one of the good ones and defusing any awkward situation with a lighthearted remark. When Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) voices a grievance over the handling of a mission, Pike sits with her and listens. He’s curious, eager to hear her point of view and even sees his mind changed on the issue at hand.

In fact, his first act as Captain of the Discovery is to go around the bridge crew, getting them to state their names one-by-one. A move that not only tells us he’s a more personable leader than Captain Lorca, but also cheekily introduces the crew to those of us who spent season one wondering who all these background players were. Time will tell whether the show makes good on its promise to boost these characters, but this certainly is an inspiring start. As is Joann Owosekun (Oyin Oladejo), a character whose prior function was receiving commands, joining the away team in “New Eden.”

In addition to the newfound sense of comradery on the ship, we also have a newly streamlined story. The setup is simple enough: a series of red bursts have begun appearing across the galaxy and it’s up to the Discovery to investigate. These anomalies are linked to an angel whom Burnham saw a vision of, and to Spock, who’s currently off the grid. Thus far, this has resulted in a more episodic structure than we saw in season one, with each of the new episodes being standalone entries connecting to a larger whole. And from this, we’ve had a fun action romp, a rescue operation involving the great Tig Notaro, and even a classic away mission.

Now, it may be easy to dismiss all this as a fan-servicing course correction, as some have, but Discovery has such newfound energy that these attempts to draw from the past seem less like a tired show enticing old fans, and more like one with a new lease on life. More confident in itself and its place in this long-running franchise. Granted, the introduction of Spock does bring with it the potential for missteps. After all, the character (and the actor who portrayed him) is such a beloved part of the franchise that to attempt to recapture the magic is to play a dangerous game. We all remember what happened when the Kelvin universe movies leaned too hard on the past, and the last thing we need is for Trek to collapse in on itself again.

But for now, everything is looking good. The cast seems more comfortable in their roles this time out, the lack of a war storyline means Starfleet shedding its militaristic outlook, and there’s enough of a balance to satisfy fans both new and old. Plus, who doesn’t love a good Jonathan Frakes-directed episode? It’s easy to imagine some folks taking issue with this new approach, but from where I’m standing we’re headed in the right direction at maximum warp.

So if you did happen to fall off in season one, you might just be pleasantly surprised by Discovery‘s new look. The new season is offering a future worth fighting for, both for this and all the other shows currently in development, so what are you waiting for?

The post ‘Star Trek: Discovery’ is Teaching Us to Hope Again appeared first on Film School Rejects.

‘Into the Dark – Down’ Review: Hulu’s Monthly Blumhouse Series Finally Delivers a Winner

The idea behind Hulu’s monthly collaboration with Blumhouse is an enticing one — each month sees a new genre feature themed somehow to a holiday — but the first four entries have been something of a disappointment. They’ve featured some known talents on screen and off and two of them manage some minor thrills, but for one reason or another the results have been underwhelming. February’s film, though, is here to shake that up by gifting genre fans with real suspense, violent fun, and a tightly effective script. If you’ve given up on the series now’s the time to come back into the dark with Down.

Jen (Natalie Martinez) is working late at the office before heading out for a long holiday weekend, but she’s not the only one. Guy (Matt Lauria) is just finishing up work on another floor, and when he gets in the elevator to head down to the parking garage he finds Jen doing the same. They make small talk as they drop forty floors, but five levels underground the elevator suddenly comes to a stop. Neither the alarm nor the intercom work, the doors won’t open, and they’re not confident they’ll be found until after the weekend. They’re frustrated at first but with a water bottle and wine on hand they make the most of it and settle in. They talk, joke around, and even grow intimate in the tight space, but noises outside the elevator and the suspicion that someone might be watching hangs in the air alongside them.

Down is a simple premise paired with a (mostly) single location, and it happily works pretty damn well with only minor bumps. Director Daniel Stamm (A Necessary Death, 2008) finds energy and visual excitement in Kent Kubena‘s script despite the limited confines of the elevator and keeps things moving with a real fluidity. The film eases viewers in with two charismatic characters and while outside POV shots tease a dark threat to come we’re fully invested in the pair by the time the danger hits. Suspense, thrills, and a damning commentary on male entitlement follow.

While the script succeeds in moving the narrative along with real efficiency, the dialogue is equally worthy of praise. The conversations between the pair of strangers feel natural and flow from introduction to acceptance to intimacy under extreme circumstances. The pair move from small talk to a relaxed banter, and it works well to craft their characters which in turn feeds the back half action.

Most of the action occurs in the elevator itself, but we do move beyond its four walls for sequences in the shaft and beyond. Stamm milks the scenes for suspense and increasing tension while delivering a handful of satisfying moments along the way. The action feels unavoidably small — it’s a television movie after all — but its effective with the minimal cast at delivering the thrills and excitement en route to a strong finale.

There are a couple beats that frustrate, though, as characters make decisions that feel as if they exist solely so the film can continue. It’s hard to simply criticize actions as being dumb, but they don’t feel as natural as other choices and ring false because of it. They don’t kill the film, but they’re almost guaranteed to frustrate viewers who’ve been otherwise along for the ride.

Down stands apart from the previous entries thanks to a straightforward narrative — there’s a turn partway through, but there’s power in its overall simplicity — and solid work both on and off screen. Once the threat makes itself known various elements fall into place leaving characters in a fight for their life, and it’s a struggle that thrills and entertains.

The post ‘Into the Dark – Down’ Review: Hulu’s Monthly Blumhouse Series Finally Delivers a Winner appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Zack Snyder Returns to His Zombie Roots with ‘Army of the Dead’

After taking some time off from filmmaking, Zack Snyder is readier than ever to direct again. Divisive as the helmer is, he has evidently taken on a project that actually seems perfect for his strengths.

The Hollywood Reporter announced that the Watchmen and Justice League director is looking to reinvent himself by going back to basics in a couple of ways. Snyder will helm the zombie action flick Army of the Dead for Netflix, and it will be his first film in nearly a decade to feature an original concept.

Snyder tells THR, “I thought this was a good palate cleanser to really dig in with both hands and make something fun and epic and crazy and bonkers in the best possible way,” and it’s easy to see why. The basic plot of Army of the Dead already pulls no punches. Set during a zombie outbreak in Las Vegas, the film follows a man and his assembled gang of mercenaries who pledge to “take the ultimate gamble” and brave a quarantined zone for a high-stakes heist.

Scripting duties are delegated to Joby Harold, who has been involved in producing projects such as WGN’s Underground and writing the Guy Ritchie motion picture King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. However, concept-wise, it definitely sounds like the quintessential stylish popcorn fare that Snyder is (in)famous for.

Army of the Dead has everything that we could easily associate with Snyder’s cinematic footprint; from unadulterated mayhem, a ton of characters, and ostensibly very little time to think in between. The urge to recall overly long fight scenes in his DCEU movies might be strong. Still, these traits don’t always culminate in disaster.

The most intriguing thing about Snyder’s films is how many of them are truly difficult to love, although it’s not impossible. Snyder often operates in broad strokes, appearing to bypass consistent nuanced storytelling in favor of a strong visual footprint. But his debut feature, a remake of George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead, actually thrives on these aspects, despite it being so unequivocally different from its 1978 predecessor.

Snyder goes against many of Romero’s principles of zombie storytelling with his redo. The 2004 film incorporates fast-moving undead creatures and likable but scarcely-developed protagonists. This stands in stark contrast to the more contemplative, chilling scares of the 1978 version.

Apart from minor nods and a shared title, the two versions of Dawn of the Dead are wildly different films. Nevertheless, Snyder proved he could create an unabashedly entertaining and memorable horror-tinged action flick.

The director’s filmography then fast-forwards past a couple of comic adaptations — 300 being more questionable than Watchmen — and a cute animated coming-of-age adventure about owls. We land on Snyder’s first film stemming from an idea out of his own brain. Co-penned with Steve Shibuya (whose tangible writing credits are considerably thin otherwise), Sucker Punch is purely divisive and for good reason.

The film thoroughly plays up the video game aesthetic of Snyder’s style, utilizing overlapping plotlines that switch between the fantasy and brutal reality of several girls who are institutionalized in a horrifically abusive asylum. Sucker Punch‘s highly gratuitous imagery walks a fine line between being empowering and exploitative. In fact, it sometimes just trades one for another as it transitions into each new set piece.

However, Sucker Punch can be surprisingly layered in its approach to deconstructing the male gaze, as well. When I caught it at the movies back in 2011, I was turned off by its sheer aestheticization and seemingly untethered plot. Pair that with a bleakness that wasn’t apparent in its marketing and the fact that Snyder hardly crafts the best female characters in the first place, and the kind of violence that these leads are subjected to was difficult to relate to.

Yet, Sucker Punch has aged slightly better over time. A rewatch has opened up new possibilities of perspective for these characters as they navigate escapist images to take control of their surroundings and regain agency after trauma. In the end, one of the protagonists’ bittersweet sacrifices comes across as more thoughtful than random.

Notably, Sucker Punch isn’t the perfect critique of toxic masculinity. It still makes use of harmful tropes and representations (especially violence against women) in the name of purportedly calling out a gross system. Regardless, it also offers an appreciably compelling counterpoint to plenty of other Snyder films.

Of course, there’s no way to know how much Army of the Dead will defer to these older Snyder movies, no matter how similar they sound. From what the director has told THR, there will be some form of self-awareness, at least.

Realistically, we can probably only count on the overuse of slow-motion. That said, as a small mention to Army of the Dead‘s screenwriter Harold Ritchie’s Legend of the Sword is truly silly but decently good fun. That goes against general critical reception, but that kind of writing is easily supplemented by visual-driven filmmaking.

Overall, Snyder’s tried-and-true methods of viscerally bloody zombie action could coalesce with his unexpectedly unique original ideas and turn into a worthy project. This is a Snyder we don’t get to see all too often anyway, which is exciting in its own right.

The post Zack Snyder Returns to His Zombie Roots with ‘Army of the Dead’ appeared first on Film School Rejects.

Alexandre O. Phillippe on the Preserving Great Conversations About Film [Sundance]

The Shallow Pocket Project is a series of conversations with the brilliant filmmakers behind the independent films that we love. Check our last chat with Jim Cummings (writer/director of ‘Thunder Road’). Special thanks to Lisa Gullickson and the other Dorks at In The Mouth of Dorkness.


Forty years ago, an alien creature that looked very much like a penis with teeth burst forth from John Hurt’s chest and forever altered the canvas of cinematic science fiction. This brief moment of terror seared into the pop culture conscious, capturing the imagination of a nation and igniting a stream of imitators. Ridley Scott’s Alien is an undeniable masterpiece that mashes many genres and speaks to even more anxieties.

Film is not created in a vacuum. Just look at the end credits. There were hundreds of individuals that threw their passion and craft into those 116 minutes. However, its creative absorption does not end there. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of artists contributed to the creation of the Xenomorph. From the Greek masters to the works of Francis Bacon to the most pulpish of grim comic books, Alien owes its life to many talents.

Filmmaker Alexandre O. Phillippe has built a career deconstructing the great works of film. His previous documentary, 78/52: Hitchcock’s Shower Scene, zeroed its focus on the iconic sequence from Psycho and revealed a national need to exorcize fear. Now, with Memory: The Origins of Alien, the director turns his obsession towards the 1979 sci-fi/horror classic and that infamous dinner table Chestburster. The new film poses a collective erupting to tell this particular story and a society hungry to devour its beautiful horrors.

Alien Dan O'bannon

Lisa and I spoke to Phillippe the day after his film premiered at Sundance. Our conversation begins with the need for long-form cinematic discussions and why his enthusiasm for dissection is more necessary today than ever. Of course, we geek out over all the various contributors to Alien and dig into the very heart of his grand thesis. Alien was birthed from the zeitgeist, and its conception may have been inevitable no matter what filmmaker ultimately put it before the camera.

Here is our conversation in full:

Brad: Right now, film conversation is so short. It’s tweets. It’s sound bites. But here you are with your career, and you’re steering a long-form essay with each film. What started you down that path?

Alexandre: Oh, man. Thank you for asking this question, I’ve gotta say this, because this means a lot to me. It’s a tough question to answer in a short amount of time because this goes into what I do and everything that I’m about to do. I’m very concerned about the state of movies. There’s still, of course, a lot of great movies being done. There will always be that. But in this, for lack of a better word, this age of content, I think we’re starting to lose track a little bit, perhaps, of the process of the great filmmakers. I’m talking the masters, the legends. Those who really have created those films that have become treasures for us.

I think it’s very important to take the time to understand what makes a movie like Alien or what makes a movie like Citizen Kane, or you can go down the list, Vertigo, The Exorcist, which is my next project, what makes them great? And how do these master filmmakers, how do they work on their craft and how do they think? What’s amazing to me is that when you start really digging deep into the process of those masters, you realize that they don’t think like other people. I feel like, to me, there’s a sense of urgency that this needs to be preserved. It needs to be preserved in a way that is not dry, that is not inaccessible, that is not just relegated completely to film studies.

The reality is that I think most people, the general population, people who love movies, are probably a little bit intimidated by this idea of film studies, this idea that there are film scholars, that there are intellectuals, that there’s all this stuff. And so, what I do is hopefully try to build a bridge between the general public and the idea of film studies. That bridge is what I want to convey. This infectious passion that I have for cracking movies open and making people realize that this is really something that we can all do and that in fact, that’s the great thing about movies, and in fact, the great thing about art is that the deeper you go and the more you understand what those people are doing, the more fun movies become, you know?

Brad: Yeah. We come to Sundance and it’s all about the new, what’s premiering here, what’s coming up. And I feel like the conversation is so about the now, we rarely look back. So when I see something like Memory, or 78/52, it’s a revelatory experience.

Alexandre: Thank you very much. I appreciate that. Thank you.

Lisa: Memory deconstructs the DNA of the Chestburster scene as an idea, tracing where the idea came from. The structure of your film starts with the zeitgeist, big picture idea, mythical level, and then goes down so specifically to the instant the film was shot, and then opens back up again in a really satisfying way. Where in the creative process do you start finding that structure?

Alexandre: This particular project has been very unique. I’m big on structure. I come from a dramatic writing background, so to me, structure and the script is everything. If it doesn’t work on paper, it’s sure as hell not gonna work on the screen. But what’s very interesting about the making of Memory is that I feel that a lot of the process of it came out of the unconscious, and I had to trust that. There’s a real intuition about where I had to go with this film. Well, it is about the Chestburster, but it’s a film about the resonance of myth and about our collective unconscious. I mean, let’s face it, it’s a film about Alien, but it’s a lot more than a film about Alien, right? I had to follow the intuition that this is not a scene that could be approached or structured in the same way as the shower scene in Psycho. It’s a different beast altogether. What intrigued me a lot initially was the connection between the Chestburster and Francis Bacon’s “Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion.”

Brad: Blew my mind.

Alexandre: It’s cool stuff, right? It’s one thing that you can just say, “Oh, yeah, well, you know, this is just Ridley Scott putting one thing and just showing an image to Giger” and think no more about that. But that’s precisely what I’m trying to say, is it’s all these things. The images resonate with certain artists for certain reasons, and those reasons are not necessarily conscious. They do come from the unconscious. The fact that Dan O’Bannon and H.R. Giger met and the way that they met through Dune, and that they had the same preoccupations, that they were both working on their own Necronomicons, that they were both obsessed with H.P. Lovecraft and the fear of the unknown, all of those things put together … the parasitic wasps, the Crohn’s disease.

When we look at it, as you say, “Oh, yeah, it’s just a bunch of coincidences,” and well, okay, sure. Fair enough. That’s an argument to be made. My argument is that when a movie like Alien becomes as successful as it did in 1979, at a time when people were actually ready for the cute, cuddly, friendly alien, as Clarke Wolfe says very early in the film, I wanna look at this and say, “Why?” Why did this movie, against the grain and against the odds, become so successful? Because it was presenting us with ideas and images that we … and I believe this very strongly … that we, as a collective, needed to process and work through. Forty years later, we’re still processing and working through and finally having a conversation about, 40 years later, what makes Alien extraordinarily contemporary as a film.

Lisa: But the thesis that you’re making there, that society as a whole asks for art that answers questions, that parallels medicine or invention. Two different people invented the telephone at the same time.

Alexandre: That’s exactly right.

Lisa: Because the world needed a telephone.

Alexandre: That’s exactly right. And the same thing happens with movies. I’ll give you an example. It’s funny because I’ve never really heard people talk about this a whole lot. Regardless of where you stand politically, obviously we’re in strange times. When I watched the movie version, the new version of IT, I was struck by one thing and that is the fact that the reason why … and this is my argument … the reason why IT became a smash box office sensation at this particular time is because it is an allegory of Trump’s America. I’m not even gonna talk about the orange-haired clown, but if you leave that aside, if you put that aside, you’re talking about a group of kids, a diverse group of kids, who are essentially torn apart by this figure. The whole idea of the film is they need to find a way to stick together to defeat that.

Brad: Solidarity.

Alexandre: This idea that America is being torn apart and this message that, in fact, we’re not as divided as we think but we need to stick together, resonated in a major way with audiences. I don’t think people walked out saying, “Oh, yeah, that’s just what’s going on.” But that’s what it did. And I would certainly make the argument that if it had come out two years earlier, it probably would never have been the sensation that it was at the box office. So, the bottom line is, I think it’s important to pay attention to those things.

I will even go further and say in 1979, if Dan O’Bannon had not connected to that resonance of this particular myth, somebody else would have had to do that. Because we as a collective summoned that story. We needed that story to show up on the screen, and we needed to process those images and those ideas.

Brad: I was struck by how much love and attention you give to Dan O’Bannon. He tends to get dismissed from the story. Was he always going to be as strong a focus in your film?

Alexandre: Not initially. That’s the thing. Talking about the unconscious, I was introduced to Diane O’Bannon by Frank Pavich, who did Jodorowsky’s Dune, which is an amazing movie. Which, by the way, is another very poetic thing. Jodorowsky’s Dune director introduces me to Diane O’Bannon? It’s like, “Whoof, goosebumps.” But I was in LA with Kerry [Deignan Roy], my partner on Exhibit A, and a producer. That morning when we woke up we were going to drive to Diane’s house in San Diego, and I said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but this encounter’s gonna change everything.” I had this kind of vision. We showed up at her house and she had all these boxes opened and all these papers.

Brad: She was ready.

Alexandre: I’m looking at this and I’m like, and there’s the screenplay, the original, from Memory. There are two versions of it. There’s Memory A and Memory B, which they’re very tiny little scripts because they’re unfinished. Storyboards from Ron Cobb and all these drawings from Dan. This one version of the script, alternate endings. There’s a one-note from Ron she’s saved on a little napkin that is actually in the film. You can’t read it, it’s unreadable. The way he writes is unreadable, but you get a sense that it’s kind of the first idea of like, “Oh, what if it comes out the chest?”

Brad: Oh, man.

Alexandre: Yeah. These little, just amazing things. I’m looking at all this and I’m like, “Oh, my God. This is it. This has to be about Dan. It has to be about really all of this stuff that was bubbling in his own process and his own unconscious since, quite frankly since he was a kid, but tracing back to 1971 when he wrote that screenplay They Bite, which is an unbelievable script, by the way.

Brad: I’d love to read it.

Alexandre: Well, I’m hoping that Diane will make it available at some point. The thing about They Bite, too, is if you love and revere The Thing, as I do, the Carpenter version of The Thing, I will just say that there are a few things in They Bite where you go, “There’s no way that Carpenter did not read that screenplay.”

Lisa: That’s cool.

Alexandre: Which is very interesting. So, I’ll just say that. I’ll just say that.

Brad: All right. Now I really wanna read it.

Alexandre: Yeah, it’s really great. It’s really great. At that point, it was clear to me that it needed to be an origin story. I was already, obviously, very interested in the mythology of it and the roots and the Francis Bacon and the Greek Furies and all of that. It only made sense to go all the way back, and then we got back to Dan O’Bannon, who is really the one who started it all.

Lisa: But this idea of, “Okay, we’re going to follow this idea back to its origins,” and you go to Egyptian myth and you dive in Giger’s work and all of that. There are just so many research rabbit holes that you can totally get lost down. How do you prioritize? There’s potentially no stopping point.

Brad: Yeah, there’s a lifetime of research.

Alexandre: For sure. For sure, yeah. To me, and this is where I have to put on my dramatic writer hat and go, “What is the story of this film?” It’s not, “What is the story that this fan would wanna see versus that fan?” Because there are always gonna be people who say, “I wanted more of this,” or, “I wanted more of that.” What is the story of this film? The story of this film is still about the Chestburster, in the sense that the Chestburster is the moment. It is the moment of Alien in the way that the shower scene is the moment of Psycho. It is the moment that everything led to it, and the moment had to work in order for Alien to resonate with audiences, and so many things could have gone wrong.

The reason that I have the opening sequence that I have, which I’m not gonna spoil, but the whole idea is that it is more than just a piece of material prop that is coming out of the chest or fake chest of John Hurt. The argument is that the emergence of the Chestburster in Alien is the reemergence of the Greek Furies showing up onscreen in 1979 to address unconscious patriarchal guilt that we need to work through as a society and to restore a balance that truly needs to be restored. And that’s what the Furies do. So if you wanna get really, really esoteric, then you wonder, “Well, are the Furies actually real? Do they really exist?” Well, it’s a force.

It’s like when I talked to Friedkin — The Exorcist project I’m working on — about the Devil. He doesn’t see the Devil. He’s talked to the Vatican. The Vatican exorcist doesn’t see the Devil as an actual physical being with horns and a tail, but it is a force, it is an energy that happens, that has to be reckoned with sometimes. I think everything we do in life and everything we do as a collective creates a ripple effect. So the Furies come back through time and they come back through mythology, through stories, through films, through things that we do in society when there’s something we do and there’s a certain guilt that comes out, and we need to process that. And so, I think that’s the whole argument that I make through Memory.

Brad: Before we leave, I don’t wanna stop this conversation without talking about that next project. You go from Psycho to Alien, and now you’re doing The Exorcist. How do you choose which subject to chase?

Alexandre: It’s very strange. Once again, I cannot even tell you, I feel like I am guided, in a way, because the Exorcist project was just as serendipitous. I was not planning on doing this. I was at the Sitges Film Festival with 78/52 and I was having lunch with Gary Sherman, the director of Dead & Buried and Deathline. Then there was a voice behind me that said, “Hey, Alex.” I turned around and it’s William Friedkin. And he says, “I’ve heard so much about your film. Just come over here. I wanna tell you some stories about Hitchcock.” And I’m freaking out. I’m like, “What’s going on?”

Then he watched my film and loved it. He sent me an email and said, “Next time you’re in LA, I wanna buy you lunch.” And then very quickly the conversation switched to The Exorcist. I felt there was something. He gave me essentially an opportunity to make a film. He said, “Look, just read my autobiography, and you find an angle, then let me know.” And so I went back to him and I said, “Look, if I want to make a film about The Exorcist, I wanna do something completely different from what’s been done before. I would want to use the Hitchcock/Truffaut model of interviews, where we sit down for a period of days and we crack open The Exorcist and we talk about your process as a filmmaker.”

This turned into a four-and-a-half day interview with Friedkin, and we’re still communicating a lot and I’m still gonna go back. We didn’t even talk about special effects, not once, but we talked about painting, we talked about classical music, about opera, about Citizen Kane, about his love for the Kyoto Zen Gardens; he was in tears talking about the Kyoto Zen Gardens. I mean, if you think what you’ve seen from us is good, and thank you so much for saying that you appreciate what we’ve done, wait until you see this project on The Exorcist.

Lisa: Stoked.

Alexandre: This one is going to be on a league of its own.

The post Alexandre O. Phillippe on the Preserving Great Conversations About Film [Sundance] appeared first on Film School Rejects.

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