LAFF 2014: RECOMMENDED BY ENRIQUE

The Star (Sarah Swinwood) in Recommended by Enrique.

Demons and such

By Miranda Inganni

Two individuals with their own agendas find themselves biding their time in Del Rio, Texas, in this quirky, enigmatic film "based on actual events."

An aspiring actress (Sarah Swinwood) comes to town to shoot a no-budget horror film, which she believes will be her big break into Hollywood stardom. Despite being told each day that the director is stuck in meetings in Los Angeles, she and the teenaged cast and crew continue to make the film. Meanwhile, a cowboy with a secret (Lino Verela) is held up in town awaiting a colleague. He is there to ostensibly deliver some plants and is bored out of his mind with the small, dusty town. Both the starlet and the cowboy pass the time in their own distinct way – the starlet swims with the local kids and sticks to the shooting schedule; the cowboy drinks himself to sleep at night, desperately missing his dead wife. When their projects are complete, both cowboy and actress move on.

Based on another film that was never completed, there is a quietness to Recommended by Enrique, written and directed by Rania Attieh and Daniel Garcia. Both lead characters spend much time in solitude, despite (or in spite of) merriment around them. They each have their own inner monologues, with the cowboy’s acting as a narration and the actress’s manifesting itself in her video blog entries. Though they are staying a couple of rooms away from each other in the same small motel, they never interact.  

Newcomers Swinwood and Verela both give excellent performances in this film hinting at mystery and nuance.

LAFF 2013: AIN'T THEM BODIES SAINTS

A scene from Ain't Them Bodies Saints.

Miss take

By Don Simpson

Writer-director David Lowery’s Ain’t Them Bodies Saintsis a cinematic meditation on poor, rural Texas life in the 1970s (though it often feels like the 1920s or 30s). It is Bob’s (Casey Affleck) desperate economic situation and intense desire to support Ruth (Rooney Mara) that has driven him to become an outlaw. There is presumably very little work available, so Bob’s only available option is to steal from others. These perceived external pressures at work against Bob are somewhat similar to Kit’s situation in Terrence Malick’s Badlands (1973). Both films also allude to psychological issues at play within the minds of their male antiheroes. The men are blindly obsessed with their girlfriends to disastrous proportions.

Ain’t Them Bodies Saints ain’t just about obsession; it is also about the deteriorating effects of guilt and secrets on one’s soul. Unlike Bob, Ruth seems to understand the grim reality that she and Bob will never be together again, so Ruth has sentenced herself to a loveless life of chastity to punish herself for the crime for which Bob is doing time. Ruth will never be happy because she knows that Bob has offered up his life for her freedom, while Bob will not be happy until he is reunited with his family. All because of one simple mistake — for which nobody died — Ruth and Bob are destined to be unhappy for the rest of their lives.

Like that of an early Malick film (Days of Heaven), cinematographer Bradford Young showcases iconic rural landscapes in transcendent magic hour photography. Lowery’s film is obsessed with the textures and degradation of rusting metal, peeling paint and splitting wood. Everyone and everything is covered with a thick layer of dirt.


Ain't Them Bodies Saints screens at LAFF 2013: June 15, 7 p.m., Regal Cinemas; June 17, 4:50 p.m., Regal Cinemas. For more info: www.lafilmfest.com

THEATER REVIEW: RED HOT PATRIOT

Molly Ivins (Kathleen Turner) in Red Hot Patriot, The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins.

Bush-hells of fun

By Ed Rampell

Kathleen Turner can’t say that, can she? Oh, but the star of 1981’s Body Heat most certainly can – at least while she’s in character as the outspoken journalist Molly Ivins in Red Hot Patriot. The tall Texan, who was one of America’s leading literary lights of lefty letters, has tall boots to fill. But in what is essentially a one woman show Turner fully embodies Ivins, tossing off zesty zingers, one liners and cuss words that afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted with Ivins-esque aplomb.

The bioplay, lovingly written by Allison and Margaret Engel -- two sisters with reportorial backgrounds – covers Ivin's life, lost loves (thank you Vietnam War!), journalistic career, politics and illness in a production imbued with Ivins’ kick-sass atty-tude and humor, which always skewered the high and mighty on behalf of the lowly and powerless. Subtitled The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins, the action takes place in scenic designer John Arnone’s set depicting a newsroom from a bygone era that has seen better days. Projection designer Maya Ciarrocchi’s images enliven the subject matter, including visuals of Ivins herself at various points in her life and career.

In this pre-digital newsroom Turner’s co-stars are a decidedly old fashioned AP machine that periodically delivers Associated Press bulletins, breaking news about historic events Ivins covered or, imaginatively, from the hard drinking Ivins’ own personal life. Matthew Van Oss occasionally appears briefly onstage as a copyboy who hands the news flashes to Turner in a non-speaking part (Van Oss should have been cast in the silent film The Artist).

The work shirt-clad Turner who scintillated the screen as a sultry siren in 1980s hits such as the classic film noir Body Heat (a brilliant parable of the Reagan era’s slimy corruption and venality), Romancing the Stone and The War of the Roses, is stouter now, but she’s more or less within the Geneva Conventions’ in terms of Ivins’ own physical presence. Turner’s Texas twang, delivery and ironic inflections captures Ivin’s manner of speaking (which I was lucky to hear in person in 2000 at the so-called Shadow Convention, a sort of left-leaning counterpart to the Democratic Party’s National Convention that took place nearby in Downtown L.A.). Although she’s no longer a sexy ingénue sizzling the screen, as directed by David Esbjornson, Turner’s Ivins generates plenty of brain heat.

The story, as told by Turner, recounts Ivins’ stints as a reporter for Texan dailies and as a co-editor of the Texas Observer. The Lone Star State’s political hi jinks provided great journalistic grist for Ivin's mill, but more importantly, helped place her on the national stage, with her firsthand knowledge and insights into Texan politicians, from the similarly witty Gov. Ann Richards to the Bushes, who put the nasty into dynasty. It was Ivins who coined George W. Bush’s rather fitting nickname – “Shrub” – which became the title of the first of her two biographies about this pretender to the presidential throne. The second of Ivins' Bush bios was, appropriately, called Bushwhacked, and it’s fair to say that Bush Jr. became this populist’s bête noir.

While the play makes much of Ivins’ Elvis obit for The New York Times, Ivins' longtime collaboration with her Texas Observer colleague, Lou DuBose, who also co-authored the Bush bios with her, is never mentioned. Nor are the lefty publications Ivins was long associated with, notably The Nation and The Progressive. These curious oversights by the sisters Engel are odd omissions vis-à-vis the columnist’s oeuvre.

However, the Engels’ script is strongest when describing the personal side of Ivins which impelled her into the fray on behalf of underdogs everywhere. Her relations with both parents were conflicted, especially with her militaristic, domineering, conservative father, whom his daughter caustically called “the General” and frequently clashed with. The death of a lover in Indochina further poured fuel on the fire of Ivins’ ire. The play correctly puts its finger on what motivates writers such as Ivins: a sense of outrage. Happily, for we, the people, Ivins expressed that outrage against the rich and powerful while defending the least of these among us. By the way, written as it is (well, obviously) by professional writers, Ivin Red Hot Patriot has lots of witty literary insights into the creative process of scribbling and doodling, and into we ink stained wretches who ink out a living, dipping quills into bottles of ink or pecking on keyboards.

Ivin's mortality, as she comes to grips with a fatal disease, is also movingly depicted by the ever quipping Turner. Death, where is thy zinger? Although Turner acquits herself well throughout this one act one woman show, she, and the play itself, is best in the final moments as a spectral Ivins delivers one final rabblerousing riposte from beyond the grave to the common people she so loved and had such a profound belief in and respect for. Turner’s final battle cry as Ivins is reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin’s speech in his 1940 anti-fascist masterpiece, The Great Dictator. The audience at the Geffen applauded and gave Turner -- and her character -- a well-deserved standing ovation. Author! Author!

Red Hot Patriot, The Kick-Ass Wit of Molly Ivins runs through Jan. 12 at the Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood Village, CA 90024. For more information: 310/208-2028; www.GeffenPlayhouse.com.

FILM REVIEW: INCENDIARY

Barry Schenk in Incendiary: The Willingham Case.

Texas is burning

By John Esther

As Rick Perry carries on his futile run for the Republican Party 2012 presidential nomination, a documentary about just some of his misconduct as the current and longest Governor of Texas hits a few select theaters.

Co-directed and produced by Steve Mims and Joe Bailey Jr., Incendiary: The Willingham Case chronicles how a brutish -- but seemingly innocent of infanticide -- man named Cameron Todd Willingham was convicted and executed for the murder of his three children.

In December of 1991 Willingham was home with his three children when a fire started in his house. While he was able to escape, his three children were not. When two fire investigators arrived they practiced their "art" by immediately suspecting arson, ruling out any other theory. In the process they destroyed what could have been evidence to the contrary. Soon after Willingham was arrested and charged with three counts of murder in the first degree.

Incompetently represented by a defender who considered Willingham a sociopath, David Martin (who comes off here as the scummiest of scum), Willingham was found guilty based on bunk science and prison snitch (who later recanted), sentenced and, after spending 23 hours a day for 12 years in solitary confinement, executed. Willingham turned down a guilty plea in exchange for a life sentence.

It was an irresponsible (to put it mildly) rush to the switch and some people would not let it go, including some of the greatest fire experts in the country plus Barry Scheck and The Innocence Project. As the pressure mounted against Perry and his old boys, something had to be done and it was not going to be made in the name of justice.

While a state execution of an innocent man is hardly new – nationwide state governments have executed hundreds of innocent men and women since the early 1900s – what resonates for this documentary is the issue of science and how, sometimes, it gets in the way of quick justice and mean politics.

As sober as a lab report, the excellent documentary metes out its findings with calm precision. Rather than make a particular point, the co-directors let the participants establish and prove his and her findings as well as some grand “common sense” stupidity.  The results go beyond the tragic, terrifying death of three children under the age of three and their father 12 years later. They strike hard into the willful and deliberate ignorance of far too many Americans.

LAFF 2011: NATURAL SELECTION

Raymond (Matt O'Leary) and Linda (Rachael Harris) in Natural Selection.

Problems of the flesh

By John Esther

Bewitched and bewildered, Linda White (Rachael Harris), is a good, doting Christian wife who blames herself for wanting to get down with her husband (John Diehl) in a biblical way to such a degree that when he has a stroke while stroking at a sperm bank – albeit a very desperate and deregulated one – the seemingly-barren woman feels it is her godly duty to find her husband's missing bastard son.

After trekking from Texas to Florida (a "bush" correlation?), Linda finds a young man, Raymond (Matt O' Leary), who happens to be on the run from the law. (Raymond's introduction in the opening scene of the film is a mise-en-scène tour-de-force.) Raymond, the super-seed monster, agrees to be her son, thus setting off a road trip back to Texas.

Along the way, the couple endures several mishaps, misfires and even, uh oh, a marital mistake .

Marked by Harris' stellar and adorable performance, writer-director Robbie Pickering's SXSW award-winning Natural Selection offers enough credibility, satire and laughs that, despite some visually incredulous images regarding sex, make this delightful indie film worthy of watching. 

SXSW 2011: INSIDE AMERICA

A scene from Inside America.

Deep Southland tales

By Don Simpson

Metal detectors welcome us to Hanna High School in Brownsville, Texas. Then, on the other side of the threshold, we are greeted by police monitors and drug dogs in the hallways. Trust is not a virtue to be found in Hanna High School -- the one thing that the rich and the poor students have in common (other than the American flag that they must pledge their allegiance to on a daily basis) is that they are all bad.

Otherwise, director Barbara Eder’s Inside America works as an analysis of juxtapositions.

The film starts as a group of poor teenagers steal beer from a neighborhood convenience store; then we cut to an ROTC drill squad raising the U.S. flag in front of the high school. Later the ROTC drill squad’s maneuvers are juxtaposed with cheerleader practice and the loud arguing between the poor teens is juxtaposed with the barking orders of the ROTC drill squad. Poor students in ESL classes are juxtaposed with rich students in modeling class. Broken homes -- kids living with foster parents, grandparents or drugged-out parents -- are juxtaposed with the overbearing parents of the rich kids. The poor kids get bad grades and have bad attendance records while the rich kids appear to be passing their classes just fine. Most importantly, the rich kids are U.S. citizens and the poor kids are illegal immigrants or at least do not have a social security number.

As we learn during one of the classes, the students are taught that even the poor and underprivileged can realize the American dream (you know, the old Victorian house with a white picket fence). They can be a part of it; work their way up from the bottom to the top. Who knows how they will be able to do that without social security numbers -- especially if the political right enacts more state laws similar to the Arizona immigration law (SB1070). One of the more humorous (albeit tinged with bitterness) moments is when one of the ROTC students is asked to describe the American way of life. He responds: “Following orders.”

Eder focuses primarily on six high schoolers: Patty (Patty Barrera) lives with her two grandmothers (Cary Gonzalez and Jovita Gonzalez), she is turning 18 soon and her family is trying to set her up with a good (religious and wealthy) boy (Eduardo Aramburo) from church; Patty is dating Manni (Raul Juarez), a tortilla factory worker who lives with his mother (Criselda Argullin), a drug addict; Zuly (Zuleyma Jaime) is trying to figure out where she is going to live once she turns 18 and must leave her foster home; Aimee (Aimeé Lizette Saldivar) is the head cheerleader, frontrunner in the ”most beautiful” contest at Hanna High, and heavy cocaine user; Aimee’s boyfriend, Carlos (Carlos Benavides), is an anti-immigrant ROTC student who enjoys shooting his paint gun at freaked-out bystanders while speeding around town in his big ass truck; Ricky (Luis De Los Santos) is a shy and naive nerdy kid who gets picked on in school and hopelessly tries to sell cookies so that he can travel with the rest of the school choir to Disney World.

Eder’s feature film debut is a raw, brutal and jaded perspective of Brownsville and, from what I have heard about Brownsville, it is pretty damn near spot on. Inside America is based on Eder’s -- a native Austrian -- experiences as an exchange student in Brownsville in 1994. Eder dedicates herself to discovering the truth in this story by utilizing non-actors -- real gang members, beauty contestants and illegal immigrants. Inside America is very clearly a critique of an outsider looking in (Eder seems intent on revealing herself as an outsider by way of the film’s soundtrack), but sometimes it does take someone as far removed as Eder to show the people living inside America the truth.