AFI 2011: FAUST

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (Anton Adasinsky) in Faust.

Deal with the devil

By Ed Rampell

Most theatergoers will have to make a Faustian bargain with the devil in order to be able to sit through this slow moving, sleep inducing, ponderous, subtitled 134-minute film in order to experience some striking images and profound insights into the human condition (plus a couple of erotic shots gloriously projected on the big screen). In Russian director Alexander Sokurov’s 2011 adaptation of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Faust, Johannes Zeiler places Dr. Faust, who literally sells his soul in order to obtain the beautiful Margarete (Isolda Dychauk) and infinite knowledge. Anton Adasinsky delivers a devilishly creepy performance as a misshapen, not so majestic satanic majesty who appears as a moneylender. (What better earthly persona for Mephistopheles than a pawnbroker?) 

Brunno Delbonnel’s (who shot the crowd pleasing French romance, Amelie) sumptuous cinematography can be stunning, notably when Faust and Margarete fall into a lake together – the suggestion of drowning summons up the film’s theme – or when his camera is trained on haunting landscapes. He and Sokurov transport us back in time to 18^th century Germany, and Faust has an alternately real and surreal look. I suspect the director of photography uses an anamorphic lens to distort images in a number of scenes to suggest the supernatural nature of this tale about man’s hubristic, arrogant quest to know, and have, all.

This Russian Faust in German (with English subtitles) has the grotesque imagery and content often dubbed “Felliniesque,” but Sokurov fails to conjure up Federico Feliini’s trademark sly wit and style to comment on the human condition with an underlying joie de vivre. This is the final installment in Sokurov’s tetralogy about power corrupting, and absolute power corrupting absolutely. His Faust may have won the Venice Film Festival’s Golden Lion, but I prefer the charming biopic in theaters now about Faust’s author, Young Goethe in Love, which is actually a joy to behold.

AFI 2011: THIS IS NOT A FILM

Jafar Panahi in This is Not a Film.

Knight of Eye C-ydonia

By Ed Rampell

When an AFI Film Festival official introduced this remarkable documentaryat the Chinese 1 Theater he lamented that the Iranian filmmakers behind and in front of it could not be present to do so themselves, as their passports had been seized and they were being detained by authorities of the Islamic Republic. At the end of this nonfiction rumination on – as co-director Jafar Panahi puts it -- “filmmakers not making films” – some audience members shouted: “Free Iran.”

Faced with unspecified crimes against the state, Jafar Panahi, whose 1995 The White Balloon won the Camera d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, has been forbidden from making movies in Iran or to leave the country where he could conceivably do so, for 20 years. So he collaborated with another filmmaker, Mojtaba Mirtahmasb (2008’s Lady of the Rose), to co-direct the pithily named This is Not a Film. The documentary records a day in the life of Panahi in his Tehran apartment, as he speaks on the phone with his attorney about the possibility of going to jail and from being banned from making movies.

Panahi tries to find some wiggle room from that onerous sentence, as it does not explicitly forbidden his reenacting and in particular reading the scripts he’s written of films he’d like to shoot. The defrocked director also screens clips from some of his previously made movies, as Mirtahmasb shoots him. There are a number of long takes and a kind of monitor lizard named Igi steals several scenes as he slithers about Panahi’s posh apartment. Throughout, the director -- who is presumably under some sort of house arrest -- generally retains his composure, only blowing his cool a couple of times when considering the injustice of not being able to practice his avocation for, perhaps, up to two decades. Considering the constraints he is acting under, Panahi seems to hold up well and, like his colleague behind the camera, admirable.

Towards the end an art student moonlighting as a janitor while his sister delivers her baby appears to collect and throw the garbage out. In the course of his conversation with the apartment dweller/noted director, Panahi corrects a comment the university pupil makes and insists that yes indeed, one “can make a film with [only] a cell phone” video camera. Panahi and Mirtahmasb prove that creativity and ingenuity not only trump technology and production budgets, but also political censorship. For my money, this film is far better than anything Michael Bay has ever helmed with his mega-million budgets.

The aptly titled This is Not a Film is also a testament to artists resisting repression, and to humanity refusing to accept persecution. In any case, it turns out that the clever This is Not a Film not only is, but this documentary, apparently entirely shot in a single day, has earned a rarefied spot in cinema history.

To paraphrase Winston Churchill’s commendation of the RAF: Never have so few done so much with so little. Panahi and Mirtahmasb are filmic freedom flyers. Portentously set against the backdrop of New Year’s celebrations in Iran and perhaps anti-government demonstrations in Iran, this documentary made against all odds somehow manages to end on a note of hope. Yes, “free Iran” indeed.

And while we’re at it, lest we Westerners get smug, free Julian Assange, too!

AFI 2011: EXTRATERRESTRIAL

Julio (Julián Villagrán) and Julia (Michelle Jenner) in Extraterrestrial.

Strange bed gals

By Don Simpson

Julio (Julián Villagrán) wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment after one hell of a bender. Enter an incredibly attractive young woman whose name is eerily similar to his own, Julia (Michelle Jenner). Julia and Julio surmise that they must have drank themselves into a blacked-out state of oblivion on Saturday night, and they have slept most of Sunday away.

They fumble through an incredibly awkward conversation. It is overtly obvious that Julia wants to get Julio out of her apartment pronto, but then they notice the eerily unusual stillness outside. No one is on the street below Julia’s apartment. Their cellphones are not working, neither is the Internet or television. Around this time they notice a colossal alien spacecraft looming over the horizon.

So… Maybe Julio should not leave? Then Julia’s nosy neighbor, Ángel (Carlos Areces), stops by. He seems to be the only other person in the building. Why did he not evacuate with everyone else? Then, when Carlos (Raúl Cimas) arrives, the sexual tension comes to a head and things get really complicated. The men — all with romantic hopes of winning Julia’s heart — use the mysterious spaceship as a means to shut each other out of Julia’s apartment. They spread the fear of an alien invasion, specifically that one or more of them might actually be an alien in disguise. The lies and manipulations snowball to the point of ridiculously comical proportions.

With Extraterrestrial, Nacho Vigalondo utilizes what could very well be a lost Twilight Zone episode to cleverly examine human relationships and the extreme lengths that men will go to in order to “win” a woman. Extraterrestrial also works as a well-crafted metaphor for the way that the fear of the “other” is often used to manipulate people’s emotional responses to situations.

AFI 2011: GREEN



A scene from Green.

The second sex

By Don Simpson

Sebastian (Lawrence Michael Levine) and Genevieve (Kate Lyn Sheil) rent a secluded country house in rural West Virginia because Sebastian has been commissioned to work on a sustainable agriculture blog. Does Sebastian have a background in agriculture? No, but he is a bookish, hyper-intelligent fellow who is wholeheartedly confident that he can hoe with the best of them.

Genevieve, who is Sebastian’s intellectual equal, is just along for the ride. She finds herself having to be entirely reliant upon Sebastian — a demeaning and degrading position for any person to be in. The backwoods of West Virginia offer no possibilities for work or entertainment; Genevieve’s only hope is that her books will keep her company while Sebastian is off toiling in the dirt.

Then, Robin (Sophia Takal) stumbles into the picture. Her primitive intellectual naiveté is no match for the patronizing couple from New York City, but Genevieve befriends Robin despite her uneducatedness. Then again, what other choice does she have? To say that Robin is gregarious and eager is an understatement; she is like a stray dog that has find found the owners that she always desired.

Genevieve and Sebastian possess a burning desire to out-smart each other — repeatedly challenging each other’s knowledge of literature, art and philosophy. The couple begins to struggle with problems in the bedroom which excites Genevieve’s imagination, prompting thoughts that Sebastian is screwing Robin.

Green comes from a uniquely feminine perspective as writer-director Sophia Takal takes on female jealousy and discusses the effect said jealousy has on personal relationships and one’s own grasp on reality. Insecurity, anxiety, and madness fester in Genevieve’s mind due to paranoia and miscommunication, and we discover that even though Genevieve’s hatred and aggression seems to be directed towards Robin, the situation really unearths Genevieve’s true feelings for Sebastian.

Takal has cited my favorite Robert Altman film — 3 Women — as an influence on Green. Both films approach female relationships — specifically female jealousy — with a certain level of obliqueness. Atmosphere and environment play an important factor in both films too. Specifically for Green, the densely forested environs are not only suffocating and ostracizing but they also lend Green a spooky and menacing horror film aesthetic. Something always appears to be lurking in the woods.

THEATER REVIEW: HOPE

A scene from Hope.

Surviving the American Dream

By Ed Rampell

The TV series Mad Men and Pan Am have done it, and now the musicalHope flashbacks to the era of the Kennedy presidency. But this time Camelot has a Chicano twist, as the Latino Theater Company production follows the Garcia family while they negotiate the early 1960s in Phoenix. These Mexican-Americans are hopeful that with America’s first Catholic president, the American dream may embrace them, too.

Hope uses a clever if well worn plot device to conjure up major celebs or historical figures as personal advisers. Woody Allen deployed Humphrey Bogart in the play and 1972 movie, Play It Again, Sam, the Yugoslav leader Marshall Tito was invoked in the 1992 comedy, Tito and Me, and Bruce Lee was summoned in the East West Players 2008 dramedy, Be Like Water. In Hope adolescent Betty (Olivia Cristina Delgado), who has a crush on Kennedy, creates an imaginary relationship with JFK (little did she know!), who counsels her on life’s trial and tribulations. President Kennedy is wittily evoked through shadowy images projected above the set as he speaks on the phone  in the Oval Office.

Archival film footage depicting Cold War major events are likewise projected overhead, serving to anchor the Garcias’ lives in their historic times in this period piece. Pop songs, too, serve to summon up the America of half a century ago. However, numbers such as "Mister Sandman" and "Please Mr. Postman" are not sixties songs merely played in the background; instead, the cast actually performs the numbers, accompanied by pianist and musical director Ben Taylor.

With the exception of compilation type musicals such as the 1985 Broadway show, Leader of the Pack and Mama Mia! (which is a similar genre), this is the first time I remember seeing a professional production wherein songs created by other artists for entirely different purposes were co-opted and used onstage in a completely different musical. Be that as it may, the pop classics are well-performed and remain a delight to hear, as they reinforce the sense of time chronicled in Hope.

The Garcia family drama includes the usual machismo mishegas, with the poor misunderstood philandering husband, Carlos (Geoffrey Rivas) and the long suffering wife, Elena (Dyana Ortelli). However, the skilled Sal Lopez, a founding member of the venerable LTC, injects a note of tenderness and vulnerability as the family friend Enrique. As the eldest sibling, Esperanza America Ibarra plays the sulking, brooding, pouty angry young woman Gina; what happens to her is telegraphed from miles away.

As this is the Chicano version of Camelot, the politically savvy playwright Evelina Fernandez and director Jose Luis Valenzuela reveal the chinks in the armor of the knights of the Kennedy administration. Although revisionist historians often overlook or downplay the role the U.S.-backed Bay of Pigs invasion played in Cuba’s decision to protect itself from the Yanqui colossus to the North with Soviet nukes, Fernandez’s script is wise enough to remind us of this inconvenient truth.

Hope runs through Nov. 13 at the Los Angeles Theatre Centre, 514 S. Spring St., CA 90013. For more info: (866) 811-4111; www.thelatc.org.

FILM REVIEW: YOUNG GOETHE IN LOVE

Johann Woflgang von Goethe (Alexander Fehling) in Young Goethe in Love.

 

What a bargain

By Ed Rampell

There are many reasons to go see co-writer/director Philipp Stölzl’s Young Goethe in Love. Much of Young is a “movie movie”: A highly entertaining, well told, rip roaring yarn full of romance, humor and adventure. The lush, stylish cinematography of this period piece transports audiences back to late 18^th century Germany with an optical opulence suffused with what we Yanks like to call “Old World charm.” This biopic is in the Amadeus and Shakespeare In Love mode, and viewers unfamiliar with that other Wolfgang -- Johann Woflgang von Goethe (Alexander Fehling) -- will learn much about the post-Renaissance Man, who wrote the masterpiece, Faust. This German film with subtleties and subtitles also has profound messages about the creative process, what it means to be an artist, parental approval, family, true love and more, all depicted in a most enjoyable fashion.


Young begins with the aspiring poet-playwright-novelist being straitjacketed into a legal career, as the 23-year-old’s early avante garde writing is rejected by publishers and Goethe is pressured to please his father, a stern attorney (played by Henry Hubchen, who was the only East German to be nominated for an Oscar, for his role in 1974’s Jakob, the Liar). After rather flamboyantly flunking the bar at Leipzig, Goethe leaps to a remote provincial court, courtesy of his strings pulling, well-connected father. There Goethe apprentices under the tutelage of Albert Kestner, a rather tough taskmaster (Moritz Bleibtrau). Alas, to paraphrase Jackson Browne, our man Goethe doesn’t want to be a lawyer in – or out – of love.


While clerking at the city state of Wetzlar Goethe encounters Lotte Buff, portrayed by Miriam Stein. He is initially attracted to Lotte because she has a sonorous singing voice and shows herself to be quite spirited. He woos her and finds that the literate Lotte encourages his artistic self to create, instead of shackling himself to a barrister’s bench. As they young lovers discover their true inner selves, Young Goethe in Love includes one of the sexiest lovemaking scenes to grace the screen in recent movie memory. 


However, Goethe is not the only suitor attracted to the free spirited songbird. As in most love stories, the lovers are faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles blocking their romance. The penniless law clerk must contend with a wealthier, more powerful rival for Lotte’s attentions. Out of the emotional cauldron of this eternal triangle emerged Goethe’s immortal The Sorrows of Young Werther (which went on to become a wildly successful bestseller, number one on The Leipzig Times’ Top 10 list).


Young Goethe in Love makes a sharp detour from its sexy, witty course with a dramatic second act full of sturm und drang. Will this film, unlike The Sorrows of Young Werther, have a happy ending? And how factual is this biopic? What Lotte says about the book her romance with Goethe inspired also rings true for this ebullient film: “It’s more than the truth. It is poetry.”


The dashing, handsome Fehling portrays Goethe with great panache, playfulness and pathos. Stein, as Lotte, likewise displays verve, winsomeness and an early feminist yearning to be free and to bask in the glow of love for love’s sake. With only his third feature Stölzl is revealing himself to be a masterful craftsman. His 2008 North Face was a well made, clever anti-Nazi feature about mountaineering; shrewd because Hitler’s favorite filmmaker, Leni Riefenstahl, made a name for herself in “Mountain” movies before she directed Third Reich agitprop. 


In Young Goethe in Love, Lotte performs an act of true love and the film ends on a Rocky-like note of triumph that all artists dream of, but few ever attain. However, to find out how Lotte and Johann’s affair turns out, and what, exactly, that triumphant denouement is, you’ll just have to see Young Goethe in Love yourself, dear reader.


Personally, I left the screening room feeling lighthearted and happy to be alive. It did my soul good, without having to make a Faustian bargain with the devil to do so. The best reason to experience Young Goethe in Love is simply because you like yourself and want to treat yourself to a great time. Why? Because you deserve it, dearest viewer.

THEATER REVIEW: PEACE IN OUR TIME

No, el coward

By Ed Rampell

The Antaeus Company -- which “strives to keep classical theater vibrantly alive by presenting productions with a top-flight ensemble company of actors” -- has succeeded admirably in doing so by reviving two great anti-fascist dramas. Both plays presented by Antaeus are alternative histories that imagine “what if” fascism had taken over England and America. 

Noël Coward is primarily remembered as a sophisticated showman, composer of songs such as Mad Dogs and Englishmen and an urbane writer of risqué romances, such as Brief Encounter (about an extramarital affair), Private Lives (which Liz and Dick rather famously revived onstage in 1983) and Blithe Spirit (about a ghost haunting her husband after he remarries). But Coward’s 1946 Peace in Our Time shows that when the playwright encountered Nazism, he was anything but blithe in his spirited drama about the public lives of Englishmen confronting Hitler’s mad dogs.

Peace in Our Time is actually more in the mode of Coward’s 1942 Oscar-winning moral boosting masterpiece World War II film, In Which We Serve, which he wrote, scored and co-directed with David Lean, than his sexy stories. Like Serve, Coward’s love affair in Peace is with England, as Brits battle blitz. John Apicella’s projections of archival footage of the Battle of Britain, etc., help set the scene. During the first act the Third Reich conquers the U.K., and the rest of the two-hour and 45-minute or so play takes place in a London pub where we encounter a cross section of British society.

Just as a school served as a microcosm for Britain in Lindsay Anderson’s 1969 student revolt film, If…, Peace’s pub likewise doubles as a microcosm of an imagined occupied England. There are resisters, collaborators and of course, Germans, in the pub, which is an abbreviation for public house. Antaeus’ Co-Artistic Director Tony Amendola pointed out to me that these drinking establishments played a central role in British culture as a central meeting place, which Shakespeare noted in his plays featuring Falstaff. Scenic Designer Tom Buderwitz has done yeoman’s work and performed marvels in transforming the Deaf West Theatre’s stage into a highly realistic replica of a pub, and deserves kudos for his realism and attention to detail.

Australian Barry Creyton’s adaptation of Coward’s Peace adds nine of Coward’s own Music Hall-style songs that weren’t in the original version of the drama, and they are seamlessly interwoven into the play, accompanied by an upright piano with Richard Levinson tickling the ivories. The ditties obviously serve to liven things up, and numbers such as London Pride, Don’t Let’s Be Beastly to the Germans (banned by a humorless BBC!) and Could You Please Oblige Us with a Bren Gun? fully display Coward’s clever wordplay and wit, which Monty Python, Dudley Moore and Peter Cook evolved out of.

Casey Stangl does a far better job directing his ensemble cast than the baseball manager with a similar name did managing the New York Mets back in the 1960s. Unlike the Mets, the Antaeus team never drops the ball, which continues rolling along. As there are 22 speaking parts, and the roles are double-casted on alternate nights, your intrepid reviewer only has space to single a few thesps out who trod the boards opening night.

Steve Hofvendahl is steadfast as Fred Shattock, the stalwart bartender with a slow fuse who precariously presides over his slice of British life. Emily Chase has a masterful, veddy English accent that sounds as if she shoplifted it from PBS’ Masterpiece Theater. Chase alternates in the role of the writer Janet Braid, who personifies patriotic spirit and love of the “sceptred isle,” unblushingly quoting Sakespeare’s  immortal lines -- “This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England” – as a rebuke to the Nazi collaborator. Take that!

As said turncoat, JD Cullum is perfect as Chorley Bannister, the snobby editor who, after the Hitlerian invasion, goes along to get along. However, it seems that this character is supposed to be gay, and if this is the case, it’s sad that Coward, himself a closeted homosexual, would choose to make the Brit who sells out to the Germans a practitioner of the love that dare not say its name (especially under Third Reich rule!). If Coward equated collaborating with being queer and considered homosexuality to be a signpost of a personality or character defect, then the otherwise valiant anti-fascist Coward was here a rather cowardly lion.


Peace in Our Time runs through Dec. 11 at the Deaf West Theatre, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood, CA 91601. For more info: (818)506-1983; www.Antaeus.org.