Maybe it’s the swine flu, or maybe it’s just a head cold. It feels like a head cold.
Whatever it is, I’m not going to be spending this weekend at the film festival.
I finally got to the San Francisco International Film Festival yesterday. I saw three movies there.
One major concern–not surprising considering the economy: The place wasn’t as crowded as in past years. The first film I saw played to a near-empty house, and there was no waiting at the concession stand.
Here’s what I saw:
Confessional. The festival second film I’ve seen this year that pretends to be a young amateur’s early budding work. This one, from the Philippines, is fun, especially in the quirky early scenes and the satisfying climax, but it doesn’t hold a candle to My Suicide. This time around, the young filmmaker (really a guy who makes wedding videos) visits a vacation spot island, with a very different culture, to make a documentary on the big, local festival. But he finds a stranger and more compelling subject--a former politician wanting to confess his sins. The experience slowly and unsurely awakens the instincts of a real documentarian. Interesting and fun, but hardly a must-see. It screens again Wednesday at 4;00, also at the Kabuki.
Sacred Places. Another movie about movies, this one from Africa. Ouagadougou, capital of Burkina Faso, holds a major African film festival every year. But Cameroonian filmmaker Jean-Marie Téno turns his camera instead on a little Cine Club in a poor but apparently vibrant neighborhood. We meet the guy who enthusiastically (and occasionally profitably) runs the club, screening pirated DVDs on an old TV in front of a neighborhood audience. Other locals also catch Téno’s (and our) attention–especially a man who makes drums for a living and clearly has great pride in his work. Commercial world cinema, traditional storytelling, craftsmanship, and the difficulty for Africans to see their own cinema all play a role. It screens again on Wednesday, at 3:30, at the Kabuki.
Bullet in the Head. I like a movie that forces me to meet it halfway, but this Spanish non-thriller doesn’t even make a step in your direction. For the bulk of the film’s 84-minute running time (It seemed longer), you watch a middle-aged man go through a pretty boring life. He eats a midnight snack. He argues with his wife. He goes into a house while a companion parks the car. He engages in many conversations, but we don’t know what they’re about because the soundtrack only contains background noises–mostly traffic. Everything is shot badly with very long lenses, and edited to enhance the boredom. The violent act implicit in the title finally occurs about 15 minutes before the end. Why? Presumably because writer/director Jaime Rosales no longer felt that making real life boring was enough of a challenge, so he had to prove he could make a car chase boring, as well. This is as pointless as cinema gets. Bullet in the Head will screen again–Tuesday at 9:00 and Friday at 2:00, both times at the Kabuki. Savor your additional chances to miss it.
I recommend you skip it at the Festival and catch it later for two reasons:
Because this movie will get a regular release after its festival screenings, I’m not allowed to post a full review yet. (I’ve written that review, which will go live on May 1st.) But I am allowed to give you a short capsule. Here it is:
Battle for Terra
This animated feature brings a new twist to the alien invasion genre–we’re the invaders. For a family-friendly, PG animated feature, Battle for Terra brings some complex moral issues to the table. Not only are the bad guys the human race, but they’re the last of the human race and facing extinction. But to survive, they must kill off every living thing on the planet, including the heroine and all of her friends. This movie will not only entertain children; it will make them think. It’s also fun just as an explosion movie, and deserves to be seen in 3D.
The Festival will screen Battle for Terra Saturday, April 25 at 12:00 noon, and Wednesday, April 29, at 6:45. Both screenings will be at the Kabuki, and neither will be in 3D.
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Technical glitch. Things are up and behaving now.
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- Written by Eric J. Adams, David Lee Miller, Jordan J. Miller, Gabriel Sunday
- Directed by David Lee Miller
As far as I know, the San Fran International Film Festival will be your only chance to see this thoughtful, sad, funny, entertaining, and thoroughly unique motion picture. Catch it if you can.
A video- and movie-obsessed teenage boy named Archie announces in his film class that for his final project, he will kill himself on camera. That incident will be the climax of his opus, the ultimate self-obsessed student film. My Suicide is not so much a film about Archie’s project as Archie’s project. Every shot is supposedly something Archie shot with his video camera, received from someone else, or synthesized with all the cool software and hardware in his room (I think some of the shots were cheating on this, although I’d have to watch it again to be sure).
The movie is even edited as if by a talented teenager, jump-cutting, mashing up scenes from old movies and TV shows, and adding cheap animations where it seemed fun to do so. At first I wondered if I could take the frenetic pace throughout the run of a feature film, but the post-production pyrotechnics mellowed out as the movie progressed, presumably as Archie became more adapt at his craft.
A movie about teenage suicide should not be all about craft and clever jokes, and this one isn’t. Archie’s announcement makes this largely unnoticed kid a school celebrity. Not only does everyone want to talk with him and value his insight, but a beautiful girl who never would have noticed him before is suddenly paying him attention. But when people start paying attention to what you say, your words suddenly have consequences.
Other teenage suicide movies, such as Harold and Maude and Heathers, are dark and funny, but compared to My Suicide, they’re shallow. Also dark, almost as funny, and considerably more humane and romantic, My Suicide hits a nerve.
These two films aren’t scheduled for theatrical release after the San Francisco International Film Festival, so if you don’t catch them at the Festival, you may never get another chance.
But with one of them, that’s not a bad thing.
For the Love of Movies: The Story of American Film Criticism, Kabuki, Sunday, May 3, 3:45 and Monday, May 4, 6:15; Pacific Film Archive, Thursday, May 7, 8:40. The very idea of reviewing a history of film criticism sounds like a journalistic conflict of interest. It doesn’t help when the documentary begins and ends with the warning that film criticism is a dying profession, and that bloggers who work for free are a large part of the problem. So let me add my disclaimer: I review all sorts of things professionally, but when it comes to movies, I’m another unpaid blogger. For the Love of Movies celebrates the people who have defined our film culture for the last century, telling us what’s worth seeing and defining greatness both in films and filmmakers. It introduces us to great critics living and dead, and gives plenty of time to the multi-decade Pauline Kael/Andrew Sarris feud. It’s informative and entertaining, but unless you’re a real fanatic, it’s hardly essential.
Bluebeard, Kabuki; Friday, April 24, 7:15; Saturday, April 25, 9:30; Wednesday, April 29, 4:15. To put Catherine Breillat’s name on a film with no sex or nudity almost constitutes false advertising. This is her family film; if it wasn’t for two very stylized bloody scenes near the end, Bluebeard could easily get a PG, or even a G, rating. But despite the brief bits of gore, Breillat’s latest remains bloodless, lacking the passion and excitement that make her other efforts watchable even when their stories get ridiculous. In addition to being ridiculous, dull, lifeless, and asexual, Bluebeard looks cheap. Set in the 17th century, the settings seem oddly devoid of people, and when a few straggling extras finally show up, they appear to be recruited from a local Renaissance Faire. The one saving grace is a modern framing story involving two little girls in an attic, with one reading the story of Bluebeard to the other. They’re adorable, and very funny when they discuss things they clearly no nothing about.
From May 15 to the 28, they’ll screen I Wake Up Dreaming: the Haunted World of the B Film Noir, a series of 29 little-known, low-budget noirs from the 40s and 50s–most of them in double-bills.
Should be fun.
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Yesterday I attended press screenings of two films that will play at the San Fran International Film Festival. Both of them will have regular (or at least limited) runs after the festival, so they’re not now-or-never opportunities.
I’ve written longer reviews of each, which will go live just before their post-festival releases.
Adoration, Kabuki, Saturday, 6:15; Pacific Film Archive, Monday, 6:30. Canadian auteur Atom Egoyan outdoes himself in this story of a teenage boy of half Anglo, half Arabic decent who creates a fiction of his late father as a terrorist, and posts it on the Internet. Yet Adoration is not about a scandal on the Internet. Egoyan has a more intriguing and touching story to tell. It’s about the people left behind after a couple suddenly die, and how they react to and avoid each others’ grief, even years after the event. Not to be missed.
Soul Power, Kabuki, Sunday, 5:45. In 1974, many of the greatest African and African-American musicians alive came together in Zaire for a big all-star concert. We finally get the film version 35 years later, and it’s worth the wait. After a boring first half hour, American stars like James Brown and B.B. King play their best, excited to be home in their ancestral continent. And African stars little known in this country include the amazing Miriam Makeba, who does things with her voice I didn’t know were possible. I wish this movie was longer.