FILM REVIEW: THE CLOWN

A scene from The Clown.

Go with what you know

By Miranda Inganni

Brazil’s submission to the 85^th Academy Awards is a sweet and thoughtful, almost quiet film.  Unlike many Brazilian usually arriving on these shores -- i.e, City of God, Elite Squad, Manda Bala, -- there is no violence, no sex, no drugs, no gangs or guns here. The Clown (O Palhaço) tells the story of a clown comedy duo of father, Valdemar (Paulo José), and grown son, Benjamin (Mello), as they lead their travelling circus troupe to villages to entertain the locals.

Directed and co-written by Selton Mello, The Clown also stars Mello as Benjamin, a clown unsure of his identity, figuratively and literally (he has no social security number or proof of residence) and he cannot find anyone who makes him laugh. Feeling that his talents may lie outside of their Circus Esperanza (Circus of Hope), sad clown Benjamin sets off in search of another life.

Mello is an accomplished actor, writer and director and his performance in The Clown is understated and sincere. Additionally, he has surrounded himself with a superb cast, including José as his father and Larissa Manoela as the precociously tuned-in Guilhermina.

While the movie takes its time introducing the audience to the players and then resolves the film a little too abruptly at the end, the journey is worth taking with Benjamin and his friends.

 

FILM REVIEW: CALIFORNIA SOLO

Lachlan MacAldonich (Robert Carlyle) in California Solo.

These days

By John Esther

Lachlan MacAldonich (Robert Carlyle) has seen better days. A brief rocker sensation in the 1990s, Lachlan now spends his days working and managing an organic farm and his nights doing a less-than-organic podcast show called "Flame-Outs," where he talks about young musicians who died too early.

Once a week Lachlan leaves his Antelope Valley and heads south to the Silver Lake farmers market where he charms customers into buying his organic wares at laughably cheap prices. His favorite customer is the oh-so-hipsterly named Beau (Alexia Rasmussen), a sort of humdrum, typical, wannabe actor commonly found throughout Los Angeles. Lachlan is obviously smitten with her, but she has no clue of his affections or, for that matter, is infamous past as a member of the Cranks, the UK's answer to Nirvana.

Perhaps due to the introduction of Beau's beau, Paul (Danny Masterson), or perhaps because his luck is running out, Lachlan goes on another drinking spree that night -- only this time he is pulled over for drunk driving.

Because a drunk driving conviction could get him deported backed to Scotlan, Lachlan makes efforts to reconnect with his Catherine (Kathleen Wilhoite) and their daughter Arianwen (Savannah Lathem), but may be too little to late to save him.

Beyond a very strong performance by Carlyle and supported by some strong supporting performances, notably by Masterson, Wilhoite and Michael Des Barres as the Cranks ex-manager, and a bit of quality dialogue during a few scenes, writer-director Marshall Lewy's California Solo has very little going for it. It is not that the film is bad or boring so much as it is forgettable. It is the kind of film one sees and forgets until coming across it a video store. A fleeing moment of recognition, only to be forgotten, again -- I guess just like Lachlan MacAldonich.

DVD REVIEW: INSPIRED THE VOICES AGAINST PROP 8

A scene from Inspired: The Voices Against Prop. 8.

Frogs out of hot water

By John Esther

Exactly four years and one month ago, a majority of California voters passed Proposition 8, thus revoking the short-lived marriage rights for same sex couples. As a result, members of the GLBT community who, often, widely overestimated the intelligence of the California voter, were galvanized to action.

Days and weeks later, the community, along with their non-gay allies, took to the streets throughout Los Angeles County -- from Long Beach, Pasadena, East Los Angeles, West Hollywood -- and beyond to protest this dismantling of civil rights.

Capturing the lives of these activists -- both old and new -- in the wake of Prop 8., director Charlie Gage's Inspired: The Voices Against Prop 8 is a sweet and speedy jaunt through a small piece of California history pro-civil rights viewers will enjoy.

Although unified in their opposition of "Prop H8" different factions along geopolitical grounds took different approaches. West of downtown Los Angeles, protests consisted of predominately white people occupying the streets of largely GLBT-friendly communities or stayed indoors to do a little phone banking. Meanwhile, the predominately "Sí, se puede" pro-GLBT Latino elements east of Los Angeles took on a different approach in considerably more difficult terrain where race played a factor, albeit not the way mainstream media reported. (Fox commentator Bill O'Reilly, as usual, comes of as ill-informed jerk in one segment.)

These different approaches caused quite a bit of friction amongst like-minded people. There is also a segment where people debate whether the boycott against El Coyote restaurant in Los Angeles was a good thing (it was), thus illustrating that the GLBT community is not some monolithic entity but consists of people with various points of views.

Featuring talking heads mixed with foot-age footage, the film interviews several important Los Angeles activists, such as noted protester Jimmy Chen, political whiz Sergio Carrillo, L.A. Gay and Lesbian Center Activities Coordinator Dahlia Ferlito, Los Angeles attorney Tim Lykowski, and Vanessa Romain of Long Beach Lesbian & Gay Pride Inc., today's release of the DVD and VOD of Inspired: The Voices Against Prop 8 coincides with many Californians (and Americans) waiting to hear if the United States Supreme Court will hear arguments on Prop. 8.

FILM REVIEW: GOTTFRIED HELNWEIN AND THE DREAMING CHILD

A scene from Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child.

What is a kid suppose to do?

By Miranda Inganni

Near the beginning of Lisa Kirk Colburn’s documentary, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child, Austrian-born artist Gottfried Helnwein states that there is far too much child abuse in the world. He emphasizes that child abuse includes child labor. This point becomes relevant later on in the film when we learn that Helnwein feels strongly that an actual child should play the titular character in the Israeli Opera’s 2010 production of the opera, The Child Dream, for which Helnwein is the production designer. Unfortunately for Helnwein, there are pesky rules and regulations regarding child labor in Israel which prevent him from being able to take advantage of the very thing he rails against.

Feeling more like the “extras” you would get on a DVD, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child is missing focus and the foundation of basic story telling: a beginning, middle and an ending. We see Helnwein at work in his studio (he lives in Los Angeles, CA and in Ireland) on his photo-realistic paintings of children (often depicted as bloodied and/or ghostly white), describing what life was like for him growing up in post-World War II Austria and slopping blood-red paint on the costumes of some of the (allowed children) actresses in The Child Dream. Additionally, there are interviews with various Israeli Opera members, The Child Dream’s director Omri Nitzan and the opera’s composer Gil Shohat. While Colburn’s film never reveals what the opera is actually about (it is based on the play of the same name by Hanoch Levin), we do learn that almost everyone involved was excited to have Helnwein join the crew.

Branding himself as I-don’t-know-what exactly, Helnwein wears sunglasses through the film and his creative process (how does this not impinge on his ability to see light and darkness as those without light-dimming glasses?), all-black clothing and brow-banishing bandanas. I can’t help but wonder if he is more concerned about presenting a certain image than he is about his work as an artist. He explains that children represent innocence and the betrayal of that innocence -- this theme is repeated in his work –--and is what he (and others) believes the opera is about.

Rather than look at the seemingly contradicatory work of Helnwein's art, Colburn’s film is a homage to Helnwein and while the documentary doesn’t necessarily raise questions, disappointingly, it doesn’t answer any that the average viewer might be inclined to ask.

 

 

THEATER REVIEW: MADAME BUTTERFLY

A scene from Madame Butterfly.

On the wings of lust

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini’s 1904 Madame Butterfly is among the most beloved operas of all time, and rightfully so. From our 21^stcentury “post-racial” (as if!) perch it’s easy to get up on our high horses and dismiss this early stab (no pun intended) at depicting interracial romance as being stereotypical, even racist. For instance, in commentary accompanying a Turner Classic Movies screening of Son of the Gods, Robert Osborne criticized this 1930 pre-Code film about racism -- sexual and otherwise -- against Asians in America as “cringe-worthy” and “creaky.” The usually circumspect Osborne went on to disparage D.W. Griffith’s 1919 classic Broken Blossoms, which was actually a plea for understanding and tolerance that likewise starred Richard Barthelmess.

In the same vein some may deride Ukrainian soprano Oksana Dyka’s turn as the title character in Madame Butterfly as “Yellowface” -- a white person impersonating a character of Asian ancestry through cosmetics, costuming, mannerisms, etc., which is also true for other “Oriental” roles performed by Caucasians in this production. Perhaps. Racism is certainly America’s original sin and disg-race-ful, and should always be exposed, wherever it rears its proverbially ugly head. But at the same time, in hindsight, we must not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Griffith richly deserved to be protested and picketed for his vile racism in 1915’s The Birth of a Nation, but his subsequent Broken Blossoms, like his 1916 masterpiece, Intolerance, are motion picture pleas against man’s inhumanity to man, and can be viewed as attempts to make up for the harm he did with his racially despicable Civil War epic. Again, I don’t mean for a second to excuse racism and stereotyping, but I am arguing that we must view works of art within the context of their times. Having said all that --

Meanwhile, back at the review:

The splendid first act of Madame Butterfly ranks with the very best work in all of the L.A. Opera productions I’ve covered. Michael Yeargan’s scenery and costuming are evocative of turn of the last century Japan. The libretto by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica quickly reveals B.F. Pinkerton’s (Montana-born tenor Brandon Jovanovich) perfidy and opportunistic streak, as he likens the 99-year lease on his home -- which he has a monthly annullment option -- to his marital vows to eponymous character, Cio-Cio-San. Like the shoji panels at his hilltop house overlooking the harbor, he views his marriage -- arranged by matrimonial broker Goro (Manila-born tenor Rodell Rosel) -- as sliding, lasting only during his brief Naval deployment to Japan, until he makes “real” nuptials with, shall we say, “one of his own kind.” 

The thoughtless Pinkerton confides his treachery to U.S. Consul Sharpless (Philadelphia-born bass baritone Eric Owens -- and BTW, since we’re discussing race specific casting, would the U.S. diplomatic corps have had an African American represent U.S. interests overseas in 1904?).

The unfortunate Cio-Cio-San has had to support herself and her family since her father’s hara-kiri death (her revealing of the blade that did the suicidal deed early in Act I foreshadows what is to happen) by becoming a geisha. Pinkerton is clearly smitten by the charming Cio-Cio-San, and likens the kimono-clad beauty to art, flowers and insects; she refers to herself as a “goddess.” It never seems to occur to either of them (in particular to Pinkerton) that this “Butterfly” is merely human, a flesh and blood being with heart, soul and psyche. Indeed, it turns out Cio-Cio-San is only 15 years old, so by today’s standards, Pinkerton is arguably a child molester, if not a child rapist.

Cio-Cio-San is described as having profound feelings for her white “husband”; perhaps because of her father’s fate, and the limited options available to a young lady in early 20^th century Japan, she seeks to escape social restrictions by “marrying” an American and elevating her status. Cio-Cio-San turns her back on her ancestral religion, incurring the wrath of the Bonze (New York-born bass Stefan Szkafarowsky), who disrupts her “wedding” ceremony, and casts a sort of fatwa upon the two star crossed lovers.

Nevertheless, afterward, when its bedtime without Bonze, lighting designer Stephen Strawbridge illumines the lovers’ marital bed with the constellations in a dazzlingly romantic expression of their passion. The scene captures what, to paraphrase Spike Lee, could be called “bamboo fever,” as East meets West in sexual bliss.

But alas, as Rudyard Kipling put it, “never the twain shall meet.” Act II greatly encapsulates the action, as Pinkerton ships out, leaving behind Cio-Cio-San and, unbeknownst to Pinkerton, a love child. And unbeknownst to Butterfly, her American has flitted away and wed a fellow Yankee Doodle Dandy. As Butterfly pines away for her feckless gaijin (Caucasian), she sings the breathtakingly beautiful aria "Un bel di" ("One Fine Day"), which Dyka delivers flawlessly and movingly (even if it may be politically incorrect for a Ukrainian to portray an Asian, and anatomically incorrect for a hefty 34 year old to depict a slender teen). Well, when that not so mighty fine day does arrive -- and with it, Mrs. Pinkerton -- let’s just say it’s “ciao,” Cio-Cio-San.

What was Puccini getting at 108 years ago? Madame Butterfly is much more than a mere Mikado minstrel show. (Indeed, from 1915 to 1920 Japanese opera singer Tamaki Miura played the part in America and Europe.) Pinkerton’s rank is relatively low; he’s only a lieutenant, after all. It’s as if the color of his skin and racial pedigree was such that it bestowed a social status that outshone that of another suitor, the wealthy aristocrat Prince Yamadori (Korean-born baritone Museop Kim), who tries to woo Butterfly while her unfaithful “husband” sails the seven seas. His American-ness seems to be the allure for the outcast geisha Cio-Cio-San, who has been spurned by her own people and their cultural codes. Madame Butterfly is subject to interpretation, but I suspect Puccini, who so sympathized with countercultural artistes in La Boheme and political prisoners in Tosca, was criticizing racial intolerance, and not interracial love.

Ron Daniels ably directs the production which has some complex mass scenes, and Grant Gershon wields his baton with all the finesse of a musical samurai, conducting Puccini’s effervescent score.


Madame Butterfly runs through Dec. 9 at LA Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.

 

THEATER REVIEW: FAITH

A scene from Faith.

Belief in the future

By Ed Rampell

Faith is the first part of playwright Evelina Fernandez’s Mexican Trilogy, although it’s the final installment to be produced in her three generational saga that follows the Garcia family, who migrated North of the border to, among other things, avoid the upheaval of the Mexican Revolution. The Latino Theater Company already presented parts II and III, Hope and Charity, last June and in 2011, and Faith continues the thread with much the same plot elements and themes.

As strangers in a strange land the Garcias struggle to survive in El Norte. The play opens in an Arizona mining town, with the Garcias leading a hardscrabble existence as members of a minority group who alternately try to adjust, fit in and maintain their roots. Perpetuating a sense of ethnic identity in an unbroken chain of ancestry persists as one of Fernandez’s primary preoccupations. Are the three U.S.-born daughters -- the eponymous Faith (Esperanza America), Charity (Alexis de la Rocha) and Elena (Olivia Delgado) -- Americans or Mexicans? Or something else, a hybrid, Chicanos?

The popular music in the trilogy’s other installments is back to liven things up and express underlying moods and notions. So is a significant world historical figure who looms large in the background, here in the personage of a Pres. Roosevelt heard via fireside chats on the radio. The playwright’s antiwar obsession returns too, as WWII sweeps the land and Freddie (Matias Ponce, who in a double role also plays a Priest) questions military service. Many may consider it heresy to doubt the so-called “good fight,” but Fernandez, who is nothing if not a writer of deep convictions, remains true to her pacifistic creed.

Speaking about Fernandez, she is cast against type as the lovelorn Lupe; in real life Evelina is far more attractive than her character, and kudos to her for glamming herself down for the plain Jane (or Juanita?) role. As an amiga of the Garcias, Lupe tries to mitigate the ironfisted rule over the household by Esperanza (Lucy Rodriguez). In one of the play’s several plot twists, it turns out Esperanza’s trying to prevent her daughters from repeating her own youthful indiscretions, but in the process, the overbearing parent forces them over the edge instead. Despite the biblical titles of Fernandez’s trilogy, she continues to wage her own holy war with Mother Church’s repression in Faith.

The local Latino radio celeb Ricardo Flores, aka “Ricky Flowers” (Geoffrey Rivas), has a surprise of his own. Xavi Moreno as the bumbling wannabe suitor and less than brave Charlie provides comic relief in a play that suffers from too many fart jokes.

The real standout of the ensemble cast, which is imaginatively directed by Jose Luis Valenzuela, is Sal Lopez, that stalwart of stage and screen who has appeared in movies such as Stanley Kubrick’s anti-Vietnam classic Full Metal Jacket. Talk about plot twists and turns: As Lupe’s husband Silvestre, he’s full of New Deal fervor, trying to organize Latino miners to receive equal pay for equal work. Instead of using economic arguments, Silvestre advances moral reasons to make his case to his fellow workers. Once his surprising back story is revealed, auds understand why. It seems that the Christianity Fernandez abides by is that of Liberation Theology. In any case, bravo Mr. Lopez, for bringing to life one of the best Latino characters since that 1950s classic with its similarly biblical title, Salt of the Earth.

The direction of Faith is up to Valenzuela’s habitual excellence -- even more so. With the help of scenic and lighting director Cameron Mock Valenzuela makes creative use of LATC’s rather large downstairs Theatre 3’s extensive space, staging the action on multi-levels. Which is only appropriate, as Faithis a multi-dimensional work.

Faith can be a standalone work; one need not have necessarily seen Hope and Charity to enjoy it, although having done so will enhance a fuller understanding of this Latino triptych. For those who did, like this head scratching reviewer, it is however frankly disjointing to have seen the plays out of order, which makes it hard to follow the peregrinations of the characters as they search for the Promised Land in los Estados Unidos. Hopefully, some producer and/or entity will have the faith to present the trilogy in chronological order. BTW, this would not be an act of charity, as such an undertaking is sure to be a surefire hit. Another suggestion is that the multi-talented Fernandez set her hand at writing a musical with original music composed specifically for such a work. Who knows? Evelina just might add “lyricist” to her job title.

In any case, this is the last week theatre-lovers can take an act of Faith at the LATC -- at least for the time being.


Faith runs through Nov. 11 in Theatre 3 of the Los Angeles Theatre Centre, 514 S. Spring St., CA 90013. For more info: 866/811-4111; www.thelatc.org.

 

AFI 2012: THE CENTRAL PARK FIVE

A scene from The Central Park Five

Burns, New York, Burns

By Ed Rampell

In the nonfiction films of Ken Burns, from The Civil War to The Central Park Five, race is a recurring theme, . The latter is the latest and perhaps most contemporary of the history obsessed filmmaker, and it is all about race and racism. As a “Native” New Yorker, of course I was aware of 1989’s Central Park Jogger case, wherein five Black and Latino teens were charged with being part of a “wolf pack” that went on a “wilding” rampage -- as the racist media put it -- brutally assaulting and gang raping a white woman jogging in the Park. The quintet of Harlem teenagers were convicted and served prison time.

Although I moved from N.Y. decades ago, I visited from time to time and stayed in touch with City residents, but somehow I never knew about what eventually happened regarding this case and to the five Harlemites, who are now grown men. Leave it to Ken Burns, America’s TV documentarian par excellence, to bring us up to date with the startling revelations regarding what reallyhappened and what the Central Park Five are currently up to. It’s genuinely astonishing and horrifying. The outcome is one of the worst examples of the press burying, instead of reporting, the news. While the front page stories about rape and mayhem were front page news, subsequent events are submerged on page 12 -- if at all.

Leave it to Burns and his co-creators, David McMahon and Sarah Burns, to exhume this riveting story with a riveting feature length documentary that will have viewers sitting on the edges of their seats, filled with outrage and unable to take their reddened eyes off of the screen. After watching this must see movie, audiences may join the young Rev. Al Sharpton in chanting: “No justice, no peace!” Hopefully, Burns’ doc will help render both justice and peace for the Central Park Five who are, in that ultimate Alfred Hitchcock tradition, literally “the wrong men.”

If you see only one film at AFI Film Festival this year, don’t miss Burns’ bravura The Central Park Five!


The Central Park Five screens: Monday, Nov. 5, 1:15 p.m. at the Chinese 2.