AUSTIN FILM FESTIVAL 2013: ENZO AVITABILE MUSIC LIFE

Enzo Avitabile in Enzo Avitabile Music Life.

Still making sense

By Don Simpson

 

Somewhat similar in approach to Stop Making Sense and Storefront Hitchcock, Jonathan Demme focuses on the uniqueness of the performances of Enzo Avitabile’s music. A Neapolitan saxophonist and vocalist who creates intricate, multiethnic jazz compositions, Avitabile possesses a level of songwriting genius that exists on a comparable intellectual plane to David Byrne. Like Byrne, Avitabile’s greatest strength is in his ability to choose teams of collaborators from around the world, then fuse them together in the recording of a song. Avitabile is well known for his thorough knowledge of world music — specifically the instruments and rhythmic structures — and ability to use that information in the development of intriguing collaborations. Whether or not you recognize names such as Eliades Ochoa, Naseer Shamma, Daby Touré, Trilok Gurtu and Amal Murkus does not really matter, Avitabile is about the magic that happens when Avitabile creates music with these talented people.

 

After documenting songwriters such as Byrne, Robyn Hitchcock and Neil Young, Demme’s artistic attraction to Avitabile is obvious. Demme has repeatedly revealed a certain fondness for capturing unique creative processes in the act. He either assumes that we already know the backgrounds of these artists, or he does not think that matters when it comes to their genius. He makes a fleeting exception for Avitabile, however, considering his strong ties to his Naples. Though, interestingly enough, Demme opts to allow Avitabile the chance to revisit his past at the end of the documentary, practically as an afterthought.

 

What surprises me most about Envo Avitabile is Demme’s apparent disinterest in the visual elements of the film. This is an incredibly intimate production shot primarily with handheld cameras; there are no lighting rigs, it is all just point and shoot camerawork. Curbing his auteurism, Demme lets Avitabile provide all of the glitz and eccentricities of the film. Luckily, Avitabile possess more than enough charisma to distract from the gritty production.

AUSTIN FILM FESTIVAL 2013: HELLAWARE

A scene from Hellaware.

Nada dada

By Don Simpson

When Lexie (Kate Lyn Sheil) breaks up with Nate (Keith Poulson) for an untalented pastel artist in pigtails, Nate decides to try to [re]discover himself as an artist. Drowning in a world of “incestuous New York City socialite shit” where untalented hacks are deemed successful by the highbrow elite, Nate must find a way to carve out his own niche.

By cocaine-fueled happenstance, Nate stumbles upon a no-budget rap-rock video by Young Torture Killaz, a group of high school kids from rural Delaware. With outsider art still very much en vogue, Nate travels to Delaware to photograph the band in their natural element. In a half-hearted attempt to legitimize the endeavor, he approaches the excursion like an ethnographic study, striving to immerse himself into their culture.

Nate’s friend Bernadette (Sophia Takal) hesitantly goes along for the ride. Unlike her incredibly naive friend who thinks high school kids can do no harm, Bernadette is rightfully frightened about venturing into the basement hangout of a bunch of drug-addled teens donning psychotic clown make-up who have penned such violently shocking songs as “I’ll Cut Yo Dick Off.” Functioning as the film’s voice of reason, Bernadette sees right through Nate’s intentions even if Nate remains totally oblivious to everything that he is doing.

Distracted by the potential fame that a solo show could quickly provide him, Nate quickly evolves into just another selfish, pretentious and condescending New York City artist. Human relationships no longer matter to him since a successful show will provide him with all of the love and attention that he needs. As he sees it, everything hinges on this one show and establishing himself as an artist is much more important than any friendship.

Writer-director Michael Bilandic's Hellaware teeters the fine line between satire and caricatures, poking fun at art culture and white rap-rock, specifically the significant role that shock value has taken in the creative industry. Visual art and music focus so much on inciting a reaction and judgment rather than promoting creativity and talent. Even more embarrassing is the tendency in creative industries to reward bad art for being so bad it’s good.

AUSTIN 2011: SOMEWHERE WEST

Ian (Barrett Ogden) in Somewhere West.

Death be proud

By Don Simpson

Ian (Barrett Ogden) has opted to forgo further treatment for a stage four brain tumor in his occipital lobe. Instead, he embarks upon a meandering cross-country journey in search of a solitary place to die. He does not get very far in his journey before he picks up another aimless wanderer, Ryan (Judson Webb). Ian is reluctant to take on a travel companion, but Ryan essentially offers him no other options. Then, before he knows it, a couple of other broken characters form a caravan with Ian and Ryan with the singular mission of helping Ian find peace and happiness in his final days.

You might say that Somewhere West is essentially about euthanasia in slow motion. Ian refuses to allow his doctors to force him to receive treatment for such a hopeless case because they would only be extending his pain and discomfort. He would prefer to live his dying days naturally, immersed in some of the most beautiful landscapes the United States has to offer, including: Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, The Badlands, Black Hills, Devils Tower, Yellowstone, and Utah’s Salt Flats.

Somewhere West is writer-director David Marek’s Master of Fine Arts thesis project for the University of Colorado. I suspect that producing a film such as this one within the realm of academia is what permitted Malek the freedom to playfully experiment with the visuals of the film — doing so allows us to experience the world from Ian’s perspective. This technique lends Somewhere West a certain avant garde aesthetic along the lines of Gus Van Zant’s Gerry. And, from what I have read, Somewhere West originally clocked in at 134 minutes; but Marek has since whittled it down to a much more festival-friendly length of 103 minutes. At its current length, Somewhere West plays at a pensive and meditative pace (which may be way too slow for some viewers). I really cannot imagine how slowly the narrative would move if it were 31 minutes longer.

AUSTIN 2011: PILLOW



Ed Lowry and John Isner in Pillow.



Shhhh!

By Don Simpson

The cackling voice of an overbearing mother (voice by Mitchell Crisp) screams from an unseen upstairs bedroom that she wants a “respectable pillow.” The local general store’s pillow bin is bare, but when a feather falls from approaching storm clouds, the two hapless brothers (Ed Lowry and John Isner) get the bright idea to go fishing for an angel while a haunting rendition of “Amazing Grace” (by Michael Sutterfield) plays from their phonograph. That is where the angel (Kristen Stracener) comes in. Umm… Yeah, Pillow definitely is a surreal fantasy.

Co-writing/co-directing/co-producing brothers Joshua H. Miller and Miles B. Miller rely solely on their adept visual styling to convey the story because, well, the brothers in the film don’t talk much—heck, they don’t talk at all. Except for the screaming mother (who is only heard and never seen), Pillow is essentially a silent film. This stunningly photographed (by Gabe Mayhan) Southern Gothic tale set somewhere in the Southern Plains during the 1930s, recalls the stylistic sensibilities of the illustrious cinematographer Roger Deakins (who is probably best known for his work with the Coen Brothers—and his nine Oscar nominations).

AUSTIN 2011: HELL AND BACK AGAIN

A scene from Hell and Back Again.

Peace amongst the fire

By Don Simpson

It is the Summer of 2009. A decisive operation is launched by the United States to begin a new counter-insurgency strategy in Afghanistan. The U.S. Marines of Echo Company 2nd Battalion 8th Regiment are dropped deep behind enemy lines to seize a key objective.

Danfung Dennis’s Hell and Back Again opens with Echo Company preparing to take a Taliban stronghold. During their mission, they are ambushed and lose a man. Six months later — near the end of his deployment with Echo Company — Sergeant Nathan Harris is critically injured by a bone-shattering bullet to his hip. Dennis then follows the 25-year-old Harris back to his home in North Carolina, where he and his wife try to piece their lives back together again.

While in North Carolina, Hell and Back Again ponders if and how a war-ravaged Sergeant can readjust to the civilian world, where parking a car at Wal-Mart becomes more stressful and difficult than time spent behind enemy lines in Afghanistan. When Harris says, “I would rather be in Afghanistan where it’s simple,” we believe him because we can tell just by looking at him how mentally and physically painful his post-Afghanistan life has become.

Harris’ civilian life is a relentless cycle of pain, pills, and nausea. He wheels around town, perpetually over-medicated and depressed. This is the very same guy who initially joined the Marines because he always wanted to kill people. Even now, Harris plays with loaded guns as if they are part of a video game. He would return to Afghanistan in a heartbeat. Even his wife admits that Harris turns in to a different person sometimes. In fact, the man she married will never be returning home.

As if visualizing the post-traumatic flashbacks that Harris must be experiencing, Hell and Back Again seamlessly bounces from Harris’ present day experiences to his time spent in Afghanistan. Obviously not knowing that Harris was going to get injured in battle, Dennis initially tagged along with Echo Company as a full-immersion war documentary ala Restrepo and Armadillo. The war footage is brutal and ugly, but not nearly as scary as the noisy, crowded and fluorescent world waiting for Harris back in the United States.

Strangely enough, Dennis breaks from his cinéma vérité form at the end of Hell and Back Again in making the unlikely decision to visually reenact the scene of Harris’ injury while Harris recollects the event in voiceover. This is Hell and Back Again‘s one major flaw; otherwise, Dennis’ film is masterfully constructed documentary using witty metaphoric editing techniques that bring to mind Sergei Eisenstein’s Strike.

AUSTIN 2011: SOME GUY WHO KILLS PEOPLE

Ken (Kevin Corrigan) in Some Guy Who Kills People.

That Crazy Ken

     

By Don Simpson

Will Kevin Corrigan -- the indie film darling who was rivaled only by Steve Buscemi in his near-infinite number of quirky supporting roles clocked in during the 1990s -- ever live down "that ugly guy" (Walking and Talking) moniker? Probably not, because as Some Guy Who Kills People's Ken, Corrigan becomes one of the ugliest characters of them all.

A 34-year old, socially awkward, sad-sack loser -- oh, and former mental patient -- Ken works at a local ice cream parlor and lives with his disapproving mom (Karen Black). Otherwise, Ken just keeps to himself and sketches fantastical images of himself murdering the high school bullies who tortured him as a teenager, made him suicidal and essentially got him away in the loony bin for god knows how long.

One fateful day, Ken discovers that he has an 11-year-old daughter, Amy (Ariel Gade); he also stumbles upon a potential love interest, Stephanie (Lucy Davis). Add a sprinkling of some off-beat cops (Eric Price and Barry Bostwick), and you have a witty black comedy about some guy who is a mysterious serial killer. Some Guy Who Kills People might have a moral about bullies buried somewhere in the story, but does it really matter? Are you really going to watch a film titled Some Guy Who Kills People for its strong moral fiber? Oh, and keep any eye out for a humorously placed lens flare a little over an hour into the film. It is absolutely priceless.

AUSTIN 2011: AFTER FALL, WINTER

Sophie (Lizzie Brocheré) and Michael (Eric Schaeffer) in After Fall, Winter.

Feminine/Masculine

By Don Simpson

Sophie (Lizzie Brocheré) is a 25-year-old nurse who helps take care of terminally ill people in their final days. She also moonlights as a dominatrix. The two careers describe Sophie very well. She can be gentle and kind, yet she also enjoys control and power. In either scenario she displays the utmost strength and fortitude. Despite her natural beauty, Sophie has never had a boyfriend; perhaps because feeling love for someone would exude weakness.

Sophie is used to taking care of elderly people who are dying, but then she is assigned a 13-year-old gypsy girl — Anais (Marie Luneau) — who is dying of leukemia. Being around Anais changes Sophie and she begins to soften just enough to be receptive to a pushy American author, Michael (Eric Schaeffer). Michael has come to Paris to hide from his dying career and crippling amount of debt. Like some Americans, Michael does not possess adequate enough manners to say, "hello" (or "bonjour," in this case) before entering into a conversation with someone -- a fault Michael quickly corrects, in order to have a chance at winning Sophie. Oh, and Michael is addicted to S&M. He enjoys being dominated by women.

One would think that Sophia and Michael would be the perfect match and they do share a fiery — sometimes combustible — chemistry. Partially due to their language barrier, Michael often comes off as being arrogant and condescending — those are two traits that Sophie does not react well to. Despite being fairly frank about their likes and dislikes in the bedroom, Sophie and Michael opt to hide their love for S&M from each other. This, my friends, is their downfall…

It seems as though films that portray characters who do not abide by vanilla heterosexual behavior in favorable and sympathetic perspectives are a dime a dozen these days. All of these films share a very similar message — we need to be honest about our sexuality, first and foremost with our lovers. Writer-director Schaeffer’s After Fall, Winter is no different. That is not a bad thing. After Fall, Winter clearly communicates a message that needs to be pounded repeatedly through many puritanical Americans’ thick skulls.

What I enjoy most about After Fall, Winter — well, besides Brocheré (The Wedding Song) — is the way that Schaeffer toys with conventional gender roles. Sophie is mostly masculine. She is strong, blunt, and has sex when she wants it, but she shies away from intimate conversations. Michael is mostly feminine. He is a fragile romantic and quick to fall in love; he loves intimate conversations, and — depending on who you ask — he might be described as open and honest.

AUSTIN 2011: 6 MONTH RULE

Tyler (Blayne Weaver) in 6 Month Rule.

Trapped

By Don Simpson

The titular six month rule is one of many rules created and adhered to by Tyler (Blayne Weaver). It essentially states that after six months, anyone can recover from any relationship. Of course Tyler is a womanizing, commitment-phobic jerk who is unable (and unwilling) to maintain a relationship with any woman for more than six months. Heck, who needs a commitment when you have a sexy model, Wendy (Vanessa Branch), who waits around her apartment in lingerie hoping you will stop by for a “no strings attached” quickie? So, yes, of course Tyler would think relationships are not essential and easy to recover from!

But then fate rears its hand and determines that Tyler will meet Sophie (Natalie Morales) — who instead of being his “usual” type is his “real” type (ah, more warped Tyler logic to digest) — and he falls head over heels for her. This strange twist of fate occurs around the same time that Tyler’s best friend, Alan (Martin Starr), slips into a monotonic depression after a break-up with his long-term “mojito bitch” fiance, Claire (Jaime Pressly).

6 Month Rule is surprisingly formulaic for the first two acts, but then the final act surprisingly defies all conventional Hollywood rom-com/buddy movie tropes. In fact, if it was not for the final act — specifically the conclusion — 6 Month Rule would have never scored more than a four in my book. Sure the film has some interesting characters — notably Sophie — but it is really difficult not to be incredibly annoyed by Tyler. There is also a cartoonish “hipster singer-songwriter” character, Julian (Patrick J. Adams), who warrants nothing more than primal hatred and disgust. But then I eventually realized that all of the negative reactions I was having to the characters of Tyler and Julian were pre-planned by writer-director Blayne Weaver. These are characters whom we are not supposed to like. Sophie is the only sympathetic one; she is the most positively portrayed, the strongest and the most human. I also think that is why I respect Weaver’s third act so much; it reveals that everything I disliked about 6 Month Rule for the first two acts was purposefully designed that way. I fell into Weaver’s trap, and he certainly deserves some kudos for luring me in.

AUSTIN 2011: DARWIN

A scene from Darwin.

 

Mine your business

By Don Simpson

Contrary to my initial assumption, Darwin has absolutely nothing to do with the infamous English naturalist Charles Darwin (On the Origin of Species). Nick Brandestini’s documentary actually refers to the town of Darwin, California (which is named after Darwin French). Located in the desolate nether-regions on the east side of the Sierra Nevada (not too far from Death Valley), the ex-mining community of Darwin boasts a population of 43. Brandestini wrangles 30 or so of Darwin’s residents to tell their tales to his camera and — within minutes — it becomes quite obvious that the secluded locale of Darwin has attracted a very unique and eclectic collection of people. Darwin also touches upon the town’s history, dating back to when Darwin’s mine — as well as its brothels and saloons — was still active (a period of time that at least one resident refers to as the “glory days”).

Brandestini relies heavily upon the townspeople’s wackiness to drive his documentary, and there is no denying their cinematic appeal. It seems as though most (if not, all) Darwinians have come to the desert to hide from something -- whether it be their checkered past, an all-too-judgmental mainstream society, legitimate employment, or life in general. Darwin appears to be a self-imposed penal colony of sorts where its constituents are able to live out a life sentence of self-enforced exile from mainstream society, yet this seclusion simultaneously allows them to enjoy near-absolute freedom. Together they have created a Utopian society of Libertarian proportions in which everyone enjoys their personal freedoms without much judgment from their neighbors or pestering by the police. They expect their government to provide them with the basic necessities of electricity, water and unemployment checks; otherwise the people of Darwin exist as far “off the grid” as humanly possible. With no mayor, city council or local law enforcement to speak of, Darwin’s only form of political hierarchy appears to be a small panel of residents who occasionally gather together to debate the state of their water supply. Apparently all of the townspeople are armed to the gills — and at least half way to crazy — so criminals steer clear of Darwin. Maybe Darwin has evolved beyond Libertarianism, maybe this is a town of anarchists?

AUSTIN 2011: RESTIVE

Hopper (Conrad Hill) and Jeva (Marianna Palka) in Restive.

Mind mover

By Don Simpson

To be perfectly honest, I might have to watch Restive a few more times before I can adequately comprehend what the heck is going on. But here I am, shortly after my first viewing of the film, attempting to hobble together a coherent review about a film that was so beautifully incoherent to me.

I will start with the puzzle pieces that I do understand. Jeva (Marianna Palka) is stuck in a menacingly terrifying relationship with Lott (Christopher Denham). Together, they have a young son, Hopper (Connor Hill)…and daughter too? Lott has reason to think Jeva has betrayed him. Soon, Jeva and Hopper find themselves running through the woods being chased by two of Lott’s hoodlum buddies, Braker (Michael Mosley) and Roo (Ivan Sandomire). Everything else is either too much of a spoiler to reveal or I need several more repeat viewings to attempt to make sense of it.

The narrative structure of Austin writer-director Jeremiah Jones’ debut feature is hypnotically transcendental, like a fever-speckled lucid dream. The eerily tranquil cinematography by John W. Rutland and soundtrack by Ben Lukas Boysen further accent Jones’ slow and tactful pacing, which intensifies only when the horrible — yet never gratuitous — violence unpredictably creeps into the story. Of course we expect violence to come from the evil patriarch; but it is when his oppressed wife is forced to fight for her life that human and motherly instinct push the narrative into some really dark places.

Personally, I enjoy when a film leaves me dazed and confused, especially when it is a purposeful tactic on behalf of the director in order to intensify the suspense — and this is exactly what Jones does with Restive. Even if confusion is not your ideal state of mind while watching a film, Restive is certainly worth watching for the impressively intense performances by Denham, Connor Hill, Mosley, Palka and Sandomire.

AUSTIN 2011: TREATMENT

Leonard (Joshua Leonard) in Treatment.

Abusing the systems

By Don Simpson

Leonard (Joshua Leonard) has a pitch for a new screenplay, but Nelson (Sean Nelson) -- the trust fund roommate from whom Leonard parasitically freeloads -- wants nothing to do with his genius zeitgeist ideas. Leonard insists that his financially-focused idea is especially meaningful at this particular juncture in time; but still, Nelson does not want to listen. Then, on one fateful night, Leonard is hanging out at a dive bar when Gregg D (Ross Partridge) -- a narcissistic (“You say narcissist, I say carbon-based life form”) A-list action film star who Leonard wants to play the lead in the new script -- stumbles in the front door. Leonard follows Gregg D into the men’s restroom, Gregg D pisses on his leg, and the rest is history… Well, not really. Though Gregg D promises some face-time with Leonard (that is, after he washes the piss from his pant leg), Gregg D vanishes from the premises by the time Leonard emerges from the restroom cocksure and piss-free.

It turns out that Gregg D left the bar in order to check himself into Wingspan -- a $10,000 per week drug and alcohol rehabilitation center that looks and acts like a luxury spa and resort. Leonard refuses to believe that his encounter with Gregg D was anything less than the hands of fate instructing him that he must work with Gregg D on this project, so he develops the bright idea to fake drug addiction in order to be admitted to Wingspan. Now if Leonard can just convince Nelson of his genius plan, because Nelson is going to have to con the executor of his trust fund -- his snooty older brother (John Hodgman) -- into giving him an advance payout in order to fund Wingspan’s hefty weekly fee.

It is almost as easy as flashing ten thousand buckaroos at the front door and Leonard successfully checks himself into Wingspan. Leonard might not have any real addictions when he enters the facility, but soon he is all hopped up on pills that are sold to him in bulk by a fellow patient, Franny (Brie Larson). Franny, a teenage daughter of “industry types” on her sixth return visit to rehab, is quite possibly modeled after Lindsay Lohan as much as Gregg D seems to be a fictional representation of Charlie Sheen. 

To say this film touches the zeitgeist is an understatement. In this capacity, Treatment functions as a diatribe about the sheer preponderance of reasons why many celebrities cannot recover from addiction in luxury facilities. For one, Wingspan is a pampering vacation resort that cares about profitability above all else; they benefit from repeat and long-term customers, therefore quick and permanent recovery does not factor into their equation. The blame is not one-sided however, the patients at Wingspan are much more interested in the comfort of extravagances than recovery. Leonard soon finds himself facing the legitimacy of “The Beast” as well as the age-old existential dilemma of whether to choose art or money (or as Gregg D so eloquently puts it: “Do you feel it in your heart or in your sack?”). Sadly enough, Leonard is probably better at making excuses than creating art.