SFIFF Saturday: Koreans in Japan, Geek Nostalgia, and a Surreal Documentary

Here’s what I saw Saturday at the San Francisco International Film Festival

B Our Homeland
For second-generation ethnic Koreans living in Japan, going "home" was once very important–even though "home" was the living nightmare of North Korea. In this calmly imageheart-breaking drama, a man in his early 40s who migrated to a Korea he’d never known 25 years earlier, returns to Japan and his family for a three-month medical leave. He’s withdrawn and frightened, perhaps because of the tumor eating his brain, but more likely because he’s spent most of his life in a place where there are choices and doubt are not allowed. He must adjust to his family–including his true-believer Communist father–and they must adjust to him.

Autobiographical, Our Homeland is told through the eyes of his much younger sister, Rie–a stand-in for writer/director Yang Yonghi.

But many of the film’s cultural and political aspects are opaque to those not already in the know. I wasn’t even sure what year–or decade–the film was set.

You’ve got one more chance to see Our Homeland at the festival: Monday, 1:00, at the New People Cinema. There are no plans for a regular American release.

B- Computer Chess
This reasonably funny mockumentary follows a computer chess tournament in 1980. imageAssorted geeks and nerds (including one "lady") show up at a hotel to test their hardware and software’s chess skills. The winning algorithm will then face an actual human chess master. To add color, a bizarre new-age group has its own gathering at the same hotel. The whole thing is shot in standard-def black-and-white; it looks awful but that’s the point. The jokes range from the clever to the obvious, and I have to admit that most of the audience laughed more than I did.

I saw Computer Chess’  last festival screening. However, it’s on the list of films that "have secured U.S. distribution or are in negotiations with a U.S distributor," so you may have your own chance to decide how funny it is.

A The Search for Emak Bakia
In 1920, surrealist artist Man Ray made a short film called  Emak Bakia. In the Basque language, that means something like "Go away!" or "Leave me along!" Far more recently, Oskar Alegria set out to discover the short’s history, inspirations, imageand locations. (As I write this, I have yet to see Man Ray’s original; I intend to fix that soon). The result, The Search for Emak Bakia, is an appropriately surreal documentary. In addition to conventional detective work–such as looking for a house with the right columns in the front–he follows a plastic glove blowing in the wind and turns his research to clowns on what could only be described as a irrelevant (but interesting) whim. Amongst the more conventional detective work, he finds an old woman who lived in the house as a young girl. The result is much more than informative; it’s magical.

After the film, Alegria stepped in front of the screen for Q&A. Some highlights:

"I loved the mystery [of the original film's creation]. If you see Man Ray films, you can’t see where they were made. I love mysteries, and mysteries have to be good if you want to make a long film."

"This is my first film and my last. I’m a journalist."

"When I was following the plastic glove, that’s not being a journalist. I had to put aside the journalist and be guided by chance."

About the woman: "We were trying to find the same house at the same time, using the same method, without knowing each other. And now we have become friends. She’s now 95 years old."

On its commercial prospects: "This is not a commercial film…I don’t want to make money with it."

"My mother taught me to have faith in magic."

You’ve got two more chances to see The Search for Emak Bakia this week. It plays the Kabuki Monday at 8:45, and the New People Cinema Thursday at 3:30. Since you’ll probably never get another chance to see this picture, I’d make it a top festival priority.

SFIFF: A Hijacking and a Working-Class Prince

I quit work early on Friday, and headed across the Bay to enjoy more of the San Francisco International Film Festival. I caught two films; both very much worth catching.

A A Hijacking
This isn’t your typical, fun, swashbuckling pirate movie. One truly harrowing thriller, A Hijacking puts you on a Danish cargo ship captured and held for ransom by Somali imagepirates. You experience most of the harrowing experiences through the eyes of the ship’s cook (Pilou Asbæk), a decent fellow and happily-married man who finds himself an expendable pawn in high-level negotiations. The film cuts between the ship and the offices of the company that owns it, where the CEO (Søren Malling) unwisely decides to do the negotiating himself. A work of fiction, A Hijacking feels like the real thing.

I caught the festival’s last screening of A Hijacking. However, Magnolia Pictures has picked it up, and it will open in San Francisco next month.

After that experience, I needed something lighter. I found it.

B+ Prince Avalanche
This meandering, character-driven comedy follows two men painting lines in the middle of a seldom-used country road. Alvin (Paul Rudd) loves the outdoors and imagesolitude, and sees himself as wise and in touch with nature. He also sees his younger partner, Lance (Emile Hirsch), as a hopeless idiot who only wants to party and get laid. They’re sort of related– Lance is Alvin’s girlfriend’s kid brother. The two argue, fight, meet an old trucker, get drunk, and bond. That’s pretty much it. But the scenery, the humor, and the warmth make that enough for a very pleasing entertainment.

After the film, writer/director David Gordon Green came on stage for some Q&A. He talked about why he chose to adapt the Icelandic film Either Way (yes, Prince Avalanche is a remake), and how the location inspired his decision to make the movie. He discussed his casting, the music, and the joys of working with a small crew: "We realized that if you don’t pay people, nobody comes."

I asked him about the title, which has nothing to do with the story. "I had a dream that I made a film called Prince Avalanche. It doesn’t really make sense for the movie, but it looks cool [written out]."

Once again, I caught the last Festival screening of this film. Like A Hijacking, Magnolia Pictures has picked up Prince Avalanche for American release. However, their Web site does not yet list any Bay Area dates. Let’s hope that changes.

SFIFF The Rest of Saturday. A French Bad Marriage and American Shakespeare

I caught two pictures yesterday after Steven Soderbergh’s State of the Cinema Address. Both were shown in the Kabuki‘s large main theater. I liked both.

B+ Thérèse
In the late 1920s, Thérèse (Audrey Tautou of Amélie) marries the rich and conservative Bernard, who cares mostly about money and family honor. It’s a good match economically, but she almost immediately regrets the loveless and stifling relationship. When Bernard blocks his younger sister (Anaïs imageDemoustier of Living on Love Alone) from marrying a Jew, Thérèse fails to be the heroine that she might have been. Both the character and the film are emotionally remote, yet that’s not really a flaw here. Claude Miller’s final film examines a woman who has been robbed of her character and her ethics, and forced to become an accessory to her husband’s world view, and finds a downright creepy way of extracting revenge. This is a dark, sober film with patches of dry humor and some surprising turns.

There’s some confusion in the title. The Festival is calling it  Thérèse, but IMBD and the press release I’ve been given call it Thérèse Desqueyroux.

Whatever the name is, the Festival will screen the film one more time. Monday, April 29, at 6:30, at the New People Cinema. The movie is on the festival’s list of pictures that "have secured U.S. distribution or are in negotiations with a U.S distributor." In other words, it may play in American theaters.

A Much Ado About Nothing
Most of us don’t associate Joss Whedon–best known for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, and The Avengers–with Shakespeare. Yet his adaptation of one of the Bard’s most popular comedies proves to be far better entertainment than Kenneth Branagh’s 1993 imageversion. Set in modern Italy and shot (in black and white) in Whedon’s own LA mansion, it makes the Elizabethan language sound natural as the characters talk about love, marriage, and jealousy. Much Ado has always been a tricky play to stage. Screamingly funny in the first half, it glides near the edge of Othello-like tragedy in the second. Yet that second half also brings in one of Shakespeare’s funniest characters, Dogberry (brilliantly played here by Nathan Fillion). Whedon keeps all of these mood changes and assorted characters working together flawlessly, for an exceptional entertainment.

After the screening, the film’s stars, Amy Acker and Alexis Denisof, took the stage for some Q&A. They talked about Whedon inviting friends over for Shakespeare-reading parties, and what a good time they had shooting this movie.

The Festival will screen Much Ado one more time: Monday, April 29, at 3:30, at the New People Cinema. The film will enjoy a theatrical release in June.

One quick technical note: Surprisingly, the Festival screened both Thérèse and Much Ado in 35mm. That’s particularly odd, not only because this film festival is showing very little physical film this year, but also because both films were shot digitally.

SFIFF Friday: Chilean Black Comedy, Russian Whodoneit, and American Rockumentary

Here’s what I saw at my first almost-full day at this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival. I caught all of these films at the Kabuki.

B- Night Across the Street
Writer/director Raúl Ruiz was dying of cancer when he made this strange, surreal comedy. Not surprising that it’s all about death. A moderately elderly man faces retirement and a seemingly pre-ordained violent death with a matter-imageof-fact calmness. Such calmness permeates the film and adds to its deadpan humor. Beethoven and Long John Silver pop up, mostly in scenes of the protagonist as a young boy. In the film’s funniest moment, Beethoven disrupts a movie screening. Ruiz lit almost the entire film with an amber glow coming from one side of the screen–as if everything was shot at what photographers call golden hour. Wonderful at first, Night Across the Street eventually drags. Had it been a half hour shorter, it would have been a much better movie.

Night Across the Street has two more screenings scheduled, at the Kabuki this Monday at 6:00, and at the Pacific Film Archive on Saturday, May 4, at 6:30. It’s also on the Festival’s "Hold Review" list, which means that it will likely receive an American theatrical release.

A- The Daughter
A serial killer is lose in a small Russian town, targeting teenage girls. That’s not a good time for Inna to go through the usual problems of adolescence. What’s more, her mother is long dead, imageher stern father is cold and strict (although there is a sense that he loves her), she’s responsible for her little brother, and her new best friend is a "bad" girl out to seduce the local priest’s handsome son. The film uses the mystery genre to  take us on a tour of post-Soviet Russian life as the protagonist and the community deal with raging alcoholism,  religious conflict, and corpses turning up in the mud. While in many ways deeply depressing, The Daughter also celebrates the resilience of youth, the genuine magic of first love, and the healing power of humanitarian religion.

One big problem: The subtitles appear to have been written by someone who barely knows English. Bad grammar and malaprops  provide unintended laughs that take us out of the story. If you watched Hong Kong films in the 1990s, you know what I’m talking about.

The Daughter is not expected to receive an American theatrical release. But you have two more chances to catch it at the festival. This Sunday at the Kabuki at 1:00, and at the Pacific Film Archive Monday, May 6, 9:00.

A Twenty Feet from Stardom
Now I know why almost all backup singers are African American. They learned to sing in church. Morgan Neville’s wonderful documentary covers the full history of rock and roll from the point of view of the women who stand behind the stars, adding vocalimage texture to the music. We meet the amazing Merry Clayton ("Rape! Murder! It’s just a shot away!"), relative newcomer Judith Hill, and Darlene Love–who actually did quite a bit of lead singing without getting credit for it ("He’s a Rebel"). Big name stars (Springsteen, Jagger) prop up among the talking heads, but this time, the spotlight points to the artists who made it all work. And for once, we get a musical documentary that’s filled with music–and joy, laughter, and inspiration. A celebration of the human voice as a musical instrument.

After the movie, Tata Vega and Merry Clayton came out and sang for us, followed by a brief discussion with the filmmakers. Some highlights:

  • Merry Clayton: All of our fathers were ministers. We were in Church all the time. We lived that. We knew that God was in charge.  I didn’t start cursing until I met Ray Charles.
  • Director Morgan Neville: Church was the perfect training for the phycology of being a backup singer. You learn to serve a greater good.
  • Merry: Darlene Love was the mother of us all. We all love each other and support each other.

Twenty Feet from Stardom will not screen again at the Festival. But it will receive a full theatrical release in June.

Saturday at the Movies: 50s 3D Horror and Early Talkie Hitchcock

I attended two very different revival screenings yesterday. In the early afternoon, I visited the Castro to catch the newly-restored Creature from the Black Lagoon in all of its 3D spender. Then, in the evening, I dropped in at the Pacific Film Archive to catch a rare, early Alfred Hitchcock talkie, Rich and Strange.

Both were fun, but neither was a must see.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon

I’d seen this 1954 science fiction monster movie three times before–all theatrical and always in 3D. But that was way back in the 1970s. Yesterday, I believe, was my first time seeing it without benefit of marihuana.

It was still pretty funny.

Set in a previously-unexplored tributary of the Amazon–that looks suspiciously like the imageUniversal back lot–Creature follows a small group of scientists, plus a colorful local fisherman, as they search for fossils and find something stranger–a sort of man-fish highbred that doesn’t appear to be particularly well-adapted for anything. Perhaps that explains why he’s all alone; his species is well on the way to extinction.

Why am I calling the creature he, despite the lack of any visible genitalia? Everyone in the movie assumes that the creature is male. What’s more, he seems strangely interested in the one female member of the expedition (young and beautiful, of course).

So let’s take a moment to consider that one female character in the movie, played by Julie Adams. She’s supposed to be a scientist, but she never does anything remotely scientific. While male scientists scuba dive to collect underwater rocks, then run tests below deck, she hangs around, puts herself in dangerous situations, and occasionally screams. But as anyone familiar with 1950s horror understands, those are the primary responsibilities of all female scientists.

(To be fair, some 50′s movies treat female scientists a tad more seriously. See It Came From Beneath the See  for a better role model.)

The other characters are equally stereotyped. You’ve got the handsome, virtuous young man, the older, wise scientist, the boss who cares more about money than research, and the colorful fishing boat captain. Much of the dialog is memorable, although perhaps not in the way the screenwriters intended:

Captain: What kind of fishing is that? Who eats rocks?

Old scientist:  I eat rocks, in a manner of speaking. I crush and look inside them and they tell me things.

This was my first time seeing Creature from the Black Lagoon with decent 3D. Before that, I had only seen it in the dreadful anaglyph 3D version of the 1970s, which required cheap, colored glasses that degraded the image.  Yesterday’s screening used modern, polarized, digital 3D, which gets considerably closer to how the film would have looked in the dual-projector setups of 1954.

Director Jack Arnold (who a few years later would make the excellent Incredible Shrinking Man) and cinematographer William E. Snyder don’t overdo the 3D effects–or at least they don’t overdo overdoing them. The underwater scenes are particularly effective in 3D. On the other hand, rear projection scenes are particularly fake.

But then, you don’t go to a movie called Creature from the Black Lagoon expecting realism.

Rich and Strange

The Pacific Film Archive‘s Alfred Hitchcock series is winding down, so it felt like a good time to catch a rare work from the Master of Suspense. Except that Rich and Strange was made in 1931, before he had come anywhere near earning that title.

You can’t honestly call this modestly budgeted British programmer a thriller, as there are very few actual thrills. image(You can, however, call it East of Shanghai; as did the American distributers.) It starts as a comedy of manners, becomes a fake travelogue, then turns into a serious drama about adultery. A shipwreck sequence near the end gives it a little bit of that Hitchcockian suspense.

Why a fake travelogue? Because everything shot for the film was done on a soundstage. Stock footage and studio sets make up for all of the story’s locations.

The plot is simple and initially conflict-free: A bored and miserable married couple (Henry Kendall and Joan Barry) unexpectedly come into some money. So they decide to travel the world first class, seeing the sites and spending time with the "best" people.

Of course things don’t go smoothly. He suffers from seasickness. She gets bored. They both get very drunk. Each is successfully romanced and seduced by someone else, almost destroying their marriage.

For an early talkie, Rich and Strange appears strangely like a silent movie. The many dialog-free sequences are clearly shot with a hand-cranked camera. It even uses a surprising number of narrative intertitles ("To get to Paris, you must first cross the channel.") These add to the light sense of fun, and make for some of the best sequences. The wordless, over-cranked opening, where the husband battles rain, a crowded subway, and a defective umbrella, is one of the funniest sequences in Hitchcock’s work.

The movie sags a bit in the middle, as adultery threatens the marriage and some broadly-drawn characters threaten the film. But the shipwreck sequence, with the characters trapped in a cabin on the sinking ship, reminds us of the Hitchcock to come.

Mildly entertaining on its own merits, Rich and Strange‘s major value today is as a glimpse of the artist who, in three years, would emerge as the greatest creator of thrillers that the cinema has ever known.

The PFA presented a rare, imported 35mm print of Rich and Strange.

Wait 20 Years, and Then You Can Call a Groundhog Day a Classic

It’s Groundhog Day! I repeat: It’s Groundhog Day!

The movie Groundhog Day first played to paying audiences 20 years ago today. I saw it soon after the release, and fell instantly in love with it. But only now, 20 years later, am I willing to give it my highest rating: A+. I don’t give that rating to new films–or even those only 19 years old.

Nineteen years ago, when everyone was talking about the best films of 1993, the two imagetitles on everyone’s lips were Schindler’s List and The Piano. They were on every critic’s Top Ten list. Everyone assumed that one of those two, most probably (and correctly) Schindler, would take the Best Picture Oscar. Groundhog Day made few lists (only one that I saw), and wasn’t even nominated.

But two decades later, Schindler is more respected than loved, and The Piano is all but forgotten (which is unfair; it’s an excellent film). Yet Groundhog Day is more loved and respected than both of those serious works put together. No one predicted that in 1993.

I only give the A+ grade to classics, which by any reasonable definition are works of art that has stood the test of time. And we have no way of knowing what new pictures will do that. I picked 20 years as the minimum age for a classic because it represents a generation. A 20-year-old movie can be appreciated by college-educated adults who don’t remember the world in which the film was made. (I also picked 20 years because it’s a nice, round number.)

Not that this is a full-proof system. When they were 40 years old, the better Marx Brothers movies looked like timeless masterpieces. Now, at 80, they’ve lost some of their luster. Their impolite, anti-authoritarian, surreal style fit very well with the 1970s, but less so now.

So what, besides its age, gives Groundhog Day that A+?

Few other motion pictures are as spiritual and as humane, and certainly none that wrap themselves up in the entertaining package of a slick Hollywood comedy. Without explanation, it places its self-centered protagonist into a time warp that becomes his purgatory. Living the same day over and over for who knows how long (it could be thousands of years), he goes through stages of panic, giddiness, and despair before figuring out what life is all about: charity and loving kindness.

image

And yet not a frame of this movie feels preachy. Fast-paced and brilliantly edited, it’s pure, inescapable entertainment. Even in its darkest, most hopeless moments, something comes up to make you laugh–usually Sonny and Cher’s "I’ve Got You, Babe."

The film would never have worked without Bill Murray. His deadpan delivery hits every note and every punch line as his character goes through one change after another. He’s loveable, even when he’s a jerk. We feel his despair as he realizes that he’s trapped and may never get out, and his deepest depression when he wins Andie MacDowell’s love, knowing full well that come the morning, she’ll only remember him as a jerk.

Groundhog Day manages to be both profound and profoundly funny. What else can you ask of a work of art?

The New Parkway screens Groundhog Day tonight at 10:00.

Dogtooth

When I saw Alps last spring at the San Francisco International Film Festival, it amused but perplexed me, and I gave it a positive but lukewarm B. Several people then told me that I needed to see Giorgos Lanthimos’ previous film, Dogtooth.

Last night, I saw Dogtooth, and they were right. It had the strange, dark, downplayed humor of Alps, but it also made sense. This story of a family so loving its criminal was an experience to savor.

By the way, I streamed Dogtooth off HuluPlus. You probably already know that Hulu streams almost the entire Criterion Collection. But they also offer excellent films from Miramax and Kino–the company presenting Dogtooth to American audiences.

But back to the picture:

Here we have the perfect, upper-middleclass nuclear family: a dad who’s a successful executive, a stay-at-home mom, and three home-schooled teenagers. imageAnd when I say "stay-at-home mom," I mean it. She hasn’t left the property in years. As far as I could tell, the kids have never left. Their parents brazenly lie to them, scaring them with dangers of the outside world and making up fake definitions for problematic words. When the son, at the dinner table, asks his mom to "Please pass the phone," she gives him the salt and he accepts it.

But the son and two daughters have reached an age where they need another kind of companionship. By the time we meet the family, they’ve found a solution for the boy. A young woman–a security guard in the dad’s company–visits on a regular basis to have sex with the son. She does it not for love or desire, but for cash, although she’s developed a moderate friendship with his two sisters. But even that becomes sexual in a weird, suppressed way.

Dogtooth contains several sex scenes, some nearly as explicit as hardcore pornography, and it occasionally even slips across that line. There’s one inarguably hardcore shot–apparently from a real porn flick–briefly visible on television, and I suspect that one sex scene between main characters was for real. Not that they looked like they were having fun. Lanthimos films sex as if it’s a boring and somewhat annoying chore. There’s nothing remotely erotic in Dogtooth.

Nor should there be. These people are emotionally stunted, and incapable of real pleasure or excitement. This is especially true with the oldest daughter (no one in the family has a name). She brims with violent feelings that sometimes come out in violent actions. In an early scene, she cuts body parts off one of her dolls while screaming in mock terror and pain. Later, she will do much worse.

Lanthimos shot and cut Dogtooth in a style so plain and matter-of-fact that it becomes avant-garde. The camera looks straight on, seldom or never moving, with few cuts. People’s faces are frequently out of the shot. The actors play their parts in a reserved, almost deadpan way. As any Buster Keaton fan knows, properly-done deadpan delivery makes the gags funnier.

And make no mistake about it: Despite some horrifying outbursts of violence, Dogtooth will make you laugh, even when the cold darkness of its satire sears your bones in the terror of what some parents will do out of what they think is love.

Which brings up another issue: Are Lanthimos and co-writer Efthymis Filippou going after more than just overly-protective parents? I think so. As with Alps, I suspect that there’s a political agenda to this family story. These parents could represent a totalitarian government, providing their children (the citizens?) with everything they need except freedom and the truth.

I’m giving Dogtooth an A.

Robot & Frank

C+ Futuristic comedy

  • Written by Christopher Ford
  • Directed by Jake Schreier

Frank (Frank Langella) prides himself on his mastery of his chosen profession. He’s a cat burglar. But he’s an aging one, and dementia is setting in. It’s destroyed his career and is pretty much destroying his life. He doesn’t shop for food regularly. His home is a pigsty. He can’t take care of himself.

If Robot & Frank was set in the present day, his adult children would either hire live-in help or put him in a home. But because it’s set in the near future, his concerned son brings him a robot programmed to help people in his condition. Frank is mortified.

You know what’s going to happen. Of course Frank will warm to the robot (whom he refuses to name). They’ll become best buds, there will be a crisis, and everything will be resolved.

to a large degree, that’s exactly what happens, but Frank’s profession adds a mildly interesting wrinkle. No one taught the robot about keeping his charge from breaking the law (which I found extremely unlikely). Since it is programmed to encourage Frank to find stimulating activities, the robot becomes Frank’s partner in crime.

The robot has some interesting edges. Although Frank anthropomorphizes the machine, and the film encourages us to do so, the robot itself insists that is not human and has no real emotions. That was a nice touch.

On the other hand, the robot’s anthropomorphic design didn’t  convince me. This machine lacked the agility needed for all the cooking and cleaning it does, not to mention breaking into buildings and picking locks.

Another thing about the robot: I don’t know if this was intentional, but Peter Sarsgaard’s voice as said android sounded a bit like 2001′s HAL. It was a different voice and a different accent, but the cadence is was similar. It really hit me every time he said the name “Frank.”

On a positive note, the filmmakers successfully create a believable near future. Everyone carries what appear to be transparent smartphones. And a librarian played by Susan Sarandon drives an old, beat-up Prius.

In the end, this is a moderately entertaining picture without anything real to say. The plot has a few surprises, but the only really big one left me thinking “Oh common, now! You don’t expect me to believe that?” You won’t hate this movie, but it’s not worth going out of your way to see.

I saw Robot & Frank at the 2012 San Francisco International Film Festival.

SF Silent Film Festival Report, Day 4

The Mark of Zorro
Big fun. I don't think I've seen this theatrically before, and certainly never with so big and enthusiastic a crowd. People cheered, hissed, and laughed on cue. Dennis James kept things lively on the Mighty Wurlitzer Organ, and Fairbanks' antics and stunts were stunning.

One thing I noticed about the story: Zorro is, inherently, a left-wing character. He's all about protecting the oppressed lower classes, even though he is himself an aristocrat. But this version made a big deal about how only those of “good blood” can stop the oppression.

The Docks of New York
My first experience with a silent Josef Von Sternberg. And guess what! It was the best Josef Von Sternberg I'd ever seen. His strength has always been his visual style, but silence gave that style a free range, and Docks has a stronger story than any other film of his I've seen (and I think I've seen all of his major talkies).

That story is like the seamy underbelly of On the Town. A stoker on shore leave, with only one night to enjoy himself, saves and then marries a suicidal prostitute on a whim. Full of atmosphere, eroticism, and a lead character whose motivations are never clear, but whose surprising actions always believable.

Donald Sosin kept the piano dark and moody, even with happy tunes like “Ain't We Got Fun.” The best film I've seen for the first time at this festival.

A Note Between Movies
I think the festival has tried to squeeze in too many movies a day this year. The result is that everything is late. The very first movie of the day, Mark of Zorro, ended when the second one was supposed to begin.

I'm writing this at 2:41, waiting for a picture that was supposed to start at 2:00.

I've just been told that today's problems came from incorrect information on Mark of Zorro's frame rate.

But frankly, I think they crammed too many shows into the festival this year. I can't find last year's schedule as I write this, but I don't think they were doing six programs a day like they did this year on Friday and Saturday (five today). There's no time to go for a walk or a restaurant meal. It wears you down.

On the other hand, I'd hate to have to decide what to cut.

Eroticon
I doubt that any genre is less suited for silent film than the comedy of manners. How do you adopt a stage play that consists of people standing around saying witty dialog to a non-verbal medium?

Did this Swedish version succeed in making the difficult transition? I'm not sure. I succumbed to festival exhaustion and slept through most if it. Judging from the laughter around me, I think it was a success.

I can't tell you if the Matti Bye Ensemble's score helped the film, but it did cause pleasant dreams.

Stella Dallas
“Ronald Colman in Stella Dallas” sounds like very daring casting. What it is, of course, is top billing going to the famous star in a supporting role. Belle Bennett is the real star–and gives a usually brilliant (but occasionally over-the-top) performance.

This is the first time I've seen any version of Stella Dallas, so I can't compare it to anything. But it's a heart tugger, even if I kept thinking of easier ways for these people to solve their problems. The famous ending had me, if not sobbing, at least mysty-eyed.

Stephen Horne's accompaniment was restrained and served the picture, without showing off.

The Cameraman
Buster Keaton's first film at MGM, his first without creative control, and his penultimate silent, comes close to being among his best. This story of a tintype photographer trying to break into the movie newsreel business provides plentiful opportunities for befuddlement, extended comic routines, and Keaton's patented pratfalls. The picture is filled with gags, and every one hit home with the festival audience.

Yet this is different from the Keaton-controlled film. There's a cute little monkey, and a running gag involving a confused cop (Harry Gribbon)–both bits that Keaton wouldn't have done. The most obvious change is one that's arguably for the better. The ingenue is actually intelligent, thoughtful, and helpful. You don't find much of that in Keaton's work.

The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra accompanied The Cameraman in their usual splendid style. Their music carried the movie's emotions, helped the gags without overpunching them, and even knew when to be quiet for dramatic effect.

The movie, and the festival, ended at about 9:30. Now it's time to get back to real life.

 

SF Silent Film Festival, Day 2

Amazing Tales From the Vault
This year’s technical talk concentrated on digital restorations and distribution by major studios, with experts from Paramount and Sony (Columbia). I didn’t take notes, so I’ll just give you a quick overview:

  • Wings was projected off a DCP Friday night. Paramount has made a 35mm negative and prints of the new digital restoration, but the Festival decided to show the DCP because they were more confident of the quality.
  • The restoration cost about $700,000, and will probably lose money. Since Paramount is a for-profit company, this bodes ill for other silent restorations.
  • We were treated to a back-and-forth comparison of the first reel of Dr. Strangelove in 35mm and DCP. DCP looked better.
  • If you sit close enough to the screen, 4K projection looks better. They showed a single frame from Lawrence of Arabia in 2K and 4K. The difference, from my seat in the third row, was amazing.

Little Toys
I had mixed feelings about this late silent from Shanghai. At times, I felt the lack of sound as a flaw, something I rarely experience in a silent film. Other times, this tale of a brilliant toymaker and her tribulations in a world of war, touched me. Ruan Lingyu gave a brilliant performance as the lead, but at times it felt like it was going on too long.

The 35mm print looked washed out and badly scratched–probably a problem with the source and not this particular print. The Chinese intertitles had badly-translated, often grammatically strange, English subtitles.

Donald Sosin was, as usual, brilliant on the piano.

The Loves of Pharaoh
This is the sort of big, epic, costume melodrama that Hollywood loved in the 1950s–except it was made in Germany in the 1920s. The plot involved an evil yet love-sick pharaoh, a slavegirl, her lover, barbarian Ethiopians, and…well, you get the idea. Silly, but utterly entertaining.

Recently restored from two incomplete tinted prints, the movie is still not complete. Missing scenes were filled in with intertitles (“Pharaoh walks to the window”) and occasional stills.

The DCP presentation was acceptable, but not as crisp as Wings. One annoyance: The bulk of the intertitles used light blue letters, which was very distracting and anachronistic. Only the ones filling in for missing footage used the conventional white letters. It would have been better the other way around.

Dennis James provided fine music on the Castro’s mammoth pipe organ. There was no subtlety to the score, but that was appropriate, as there was no subtlety to the movie.

Mantrap
No surprises here. I own this romantic comedy–the perfect Clara Bow vehicle–on the Treasures 5 DVD box set. And I’ve even seen it once before at the Castro, with live music. But that didn’t keep me from enjoying the movie. After all, comedy is always better with a large and enthusiastic audience, and Stephen Horne’s score (mostly piano but also with some accordian and flute) sounds better live. A tale of a flirt who marries a hick, with a New York divorce lawyer thrown in as a reluctant piece of the triangle, is very much a work of its time. But in many ways, it’s timeless.

Physically, the film hasn’t aged well. The 35mm print from the Library of Congress came from a source that was scratched and lacked detail. Seeing this the day after Wings brought home the difference between preservation and restoration. No one will likely spend $700,000 to make Mantrap look new. So it has only been restored; the best existing print was copied to a more stable film stock.

I decided to skip the last movie of the evening, The Wonderful Lie of Nina Petrovna. I didn’t think I could stay awake for it. To paraphrase Lloyd Bridges in Airplane!, “I knew this was the wrong week to give up caffeine.”

But I did buy the Wings Blu-ray before I left.

Note: I corrected a factual error in the original post.

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