Back on the Big Screen: Bergman, Gilliam, and Rock and Roll

by J.R. Hammerer

This column will highlight the films playing in New York City independent theaters and repertory houses each week. 

via ruthlessreviews.com

If anything could be said about Terry Gilliam, it’s that his imagination is unbound. Beginning with his surreal, stream-of-consciousness cartoons for “Monty Python’s Flying Circus,” his odd juxtapositions and wryly absurd humor fit in perfectly with the British comedy collective. But once he set out as a live-action filmmaker, his complex visuals and skepticism of bureaucratic, rigid modernity resulted in a series of films that delight in magic casting abilities with a sober smirk.

Time Bandits, his third feature and one of his rare absolute hits, is ample evidence. One of the most creative and unconventional family films ever made, it laid out Gilliam’s principal theme of outsiders rebelling against a narrow-minded normality. A young boy meets a troupe of dwarves who’ve stolen a map of holes in time and space, riding with them as they are pursued by both the Supreme Being and a devil who wants to transform the universe into computers and machines. Gilliam uses the setup to not only toy with history (Robin Hood turns out to steal from the poor), but with an adult society easily seduced by game shows and kitchen appliances.

Anther family classic that celebrates rebelling against convention had an unconventional choice of director. Rising to prominence in the indie boom of the early 1990s, Richard Linklater broke onto the scene with a series of rambling, wordy, almost literate films that were more interested in character and theme than plot and action. They were often philosophical, and often featuring subcultural characters journeying towards nowhere in particular. In other words, he was the last guy you’d expect to take on a mainstream Hollywood comedy.

Which he happened to do with the criminally underrated School of Rock. Developing a script written by Mike White specifically for his friend Jack Black to star, he latched hard onto Dewey Finn, a rocker/slacker who sneaks into a substitute teacher position. The hard rock riff on the inspiring-teacher movie not only put the Dead Poets Society formula to shame, but also joyfully and hilariously celebrated the power of music and the romance of rock & roll rebellion. It’s one-of-a-kind, and Jack Black’s charisma as frontman is still a career high.

On the complete opposite end of the spectrum– in tone, style, and subject– lies the legendary Ingmar Bergman. Bred from a distinctly Scandinavian strand of modernist, existential drama, his films are intimate and deliberate chamber pieces that aimed to probe the meanings of life and the core of human experience. The existence of God, the problem of evil, coldness and darkness, loneliness and light– he was always asking how to live in a mad world that humans keep messing up. He rarely found answers, but the questions were intimate, haunting and provocative.

The Virgin Spring was a turning point in his career. Working with new cinematographer Sven Nykvist, it has a less theatrical, more immediate feel that both calms and shocks. It is more direct, staring right into the ugly side of human nature. A group of nomads rape and murder a young teenage girl, only to unknowingly wind up at her father’s door. He is shaken by the random brutality of his daughter’s fate, but driven to a revenge that breaks his spirit. The violence is un-exploitative, but stark, cold, and remorseless. And all the while, the troubled ask why–but God is silent, and remains so even as we stare into the void of ourselves.

Time Bandits plays from Friday, May 24 to Sunday, May 26 at IFC Center (323 6th Ave). School of Rock plays Sunday, May 26 at Film Forum (209 W. Houston St). The Virgin Spring plays from Thursday, May 23 to Monday, May 27 at Anthology Film Archives (32 2nd Ave).

J.R. Hammerer is a staff writer. Email him at film@nyunews.com.

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Mad Men, Season 6, Episode 8: “The Crash”

By Alex Greenberger
Courtesy of AMC

Courtesy of AMC

If you told me that “The Crash” was directed by David Lynch and I didn’t know otherwise, I may have believed you.  To be sure, that’s a major commendation.  I adore “Mulholland Dr.,” and more often than not, “The Crash” feels like watching one of my favorite shows, “Twin Peaks.”  So it shouldn’t come as a surprise either that “The Crash” is far and away the weirdest and most subversive “Mad Men” episode to date.

That said, “The Crash” may just be one of the most brilliant episodes to date as well.  “The Crash” is the most genuinely unsettled I’ve been by an hour of television in recent memory, and that’s a testament to how unrelentingly odd this episode is.

That’s not to say “The Crash” is a 60-minute version of Roger’s trip in last season’s “Far Away Places” — it isn’t.  (Although we can only pray that episode is coming somewhere down the line, because that sounds wonderful.)  Instead, the episode is very grounded, despite its largely non-narrative structure that, judging by Twitter’s fairly explosive reaction when the episode aired, caused many to be bewildered.

The entire episode can be encapsulated in one of its final scenes, when Don apologizes to Sally for having not been there when his apartment was robbed.  “It’s my fault,” he tells Sally.  “I left the door open.” In typical “Mad Men” fashion, even this sentence is highly symbolic.  The door refers to Don’s past, which certainly plays a major role in “The Crash,” considering the fact that whatever gets injected into his butt (yes, you read that correctly) causes him to hallucinate and flashback to his first sexual experience.  Don even calls SCDP a “whorehouse” at one point, a direct reference to his upbringing in a brothel.

What happens when the door is left open is a little trickier.  For one, I believe everything we see actually happens — none of “The Crash” is a hallucination.  So yes, a woman did break into Don’s apartment by pretending to be Sally’s grandmother, and yes, Frank’s daughter did have sex with Stan following Frank’s funeral.  Okay, maybe Ken didn’t tap dance in front of Don, but still, it was worth it for this GIF.

With that in my mind, it’s analyzing the episode that becomes very difficult.  There are, of course, the episode’s more blunt scenes, and maybe these are when “The Crash” works best.  The first scene that comes to mind is certainly the one between Frank’s daughter and Don are in Don’s office and Frank’s daughter puts a stethoscope to Don’s heart.  “It’s broken,” she says.  “How did you know that?” Don asks.  She then holds up the stethoscope and says, “It’s broken.  I can’t hear anything.”  And she doesn’t mean his heart.

Here’s a scene where Don, a character that rarely ever explicitly acknowledges his sadness, accidentally reveals himself, and it’s absolutely (for lack of better words) heartbreaking.  Throughout “The Crash,” we see Don falling deeper and deeper into a depression where he stands in a stasis while everyone else is learning to adapt.

Think back to “The Doorway,” and you’ll realize that “The Crash” is Don’s character in that episode taken to an extreme.  As Stan and a co-worker run frantically around the office because they are high (and, in one of the episode’s lighter moments, play a very failed version of William Tell using darts and a drawing of an apple), Don slaves away in his office.  Don continues to work while everyone else plays — working is the only way for Don to avoid the problems of his life (namely, that he can’t adapt to a quickly changing society, that he has a problem staying in a monogamous relation, the list goes on ad infinitum), and ultimately, working can’t even save Don in “The Crash.”

“The Crash” is a sad, disturbing, and downright bizarre episode.  By no means should it be as great as it is.  The greatest part is, writers John Grote and Matthew Weiner and director Michael Uppendahl nail it.  “The Crash” is an example of challenging television, and it’s also an example of why we need more challenging television like it.  Thank God this show exists.

Alex Greenberger is entertainment editor.  Email him at agreenberger@nyunews.com.

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Newly launched app “Haunting Melissa” paves way for groundbreaking film experience

by David Leidy

haunting-melissa

“Haunting Melissa,” a thrills and chills video application, was launched this past Thursday by Hooked Digital Media, a next generation digital production company.  It can be found in the iTunes App Store exclusively for iPad, iPod touch, and iPhone, and is destined to change the film-going experience forever.

“I wanted to mold a story that would compliment the capabilities of the tablet and mobile device by utilizing new technology in a way that changes the viewer’s expectations,” said Neal Edelstein, the president and co-founder of Hooked Digital Media. Edelstein, (producer of such popular films as “Mulholland Drive” and “The Ring”) is the undeniable creative mastermind behind the project.  Not only did he produce the app, but also conceived it and for the first time in his career, sat behind the director’s chair to make his vision come to life.

The platform of mobile and tablet devices is perfect for telling ghost stories like “Haunting Melissa,” because it’s a solitary and incredibly spooky way to view them.  There are few things creepier than watching something scary unfold in front of you alone in a dark room. Edelstein suggested that in order to obtain the full experience, one should plug in noise cancelling headphones.

Another reason the platform raises the amount of suspense and mystery of the film is because of the way the application is designed to release the next round of video content at random intervals; therefore, you never know when the next part of the film is going to be released or how long it will be.  The unpredictability of the medium piques the viewer’s interest on what is happening on screen, and their curiosity for what is coming next.

“When it comes down to it, it is all about the story,” Edelstein assured. “The medium is just another way to experience it.”  Hooked Digital Media is thus changing the language of storytelling by offering a unique, innovative alternative to experiencing stories.

So what is “Haunting Melissa” really about?  The story, written by Andrew Klavan (writer of the novel “True Crime” and the film “One Missed Call”), centers around Melissa, who vanishes after pleading to her friends about the paranormal events that have been taking place in her secluded farmhouse.  Melissa is not only haunted by a mysterious apparition but by a locked room where her mother went insane and died.  Now, the puzzle to what really happened must be pieced together in order to discover the truth behind her haunting and subsequent vanishing.

The first video on the application starts off with a computer camera looking on to a man with his face completely blurred out.  He states how the stories told about Melissa are all lies and that the evidence has been confiscated.  He pleas for anyone who is watching, “to hear for yourself, see for yourself,” what really happened to Melissa by the footage that was found of her before she went away. Thus, the video takes off from there in a found-footage-esque style that adds to the horror and mystery by creating a more limited narrative. By the end of the initial video, it directs you to post on Facebook about it in order to unlock the following video for free.

The social media aspects of the application are another reason this form of viewing films will catch on quickly.  In the application you can easily post comments and connect on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, Tumblr, and Instagram through the app, keeping up to date on where your friends are in the story and their current thoughts and reactions about it.

Despite horror being a particularly appropriate genre to showcase the platform, it is likely that people will start seeing films of all genres exclusively released as applications on tablet and mobile devices.  As even Neal himself guaranteed, Hooked Digital Media plans on releasing more content in the future that will not be limited to the horror genre.  Thus, be ready for a change in the viewing experience of future films, as Hooked Digital Media is on to something that is certain to spark a revolution.

In order to give this new revolutionary technology and way of storytelling a whirl you can download the free app “Haunting Melissa” in the iTunes App Store.  You’re sure to be in for one thrilling ride while looking through a window into the future.

Download the app now at www.AppStore.com/HauntingMelissa.

David Leidy is a contributing writer. Email him at film@nyunews.com.

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The Office, Season 9, Episode 24: “Finale”

By Vivianne Nguyen

Via Screen Crush

Wow. I can’t believe it. This is really hard to even comprehend, but “The Office” is over. The retrospective and the hour-long finale truly paid tribute to this phenomenal show. Even though many feel “The Office” overstayed its welcome, especially after Steve Carell left, the series finale celebrated the show so well that I think we were all feeling nostalgic and unprepared to part ways with Dunder Mifflin Scranton.

“The Office” has always had a unique kind of humor, a kind that’s understated and isn’t accompanied by a laugh track to tell you when things are funny. But with such wacky characters, the show has never had trouble making the audience laugh. In the series finale, for example, both stripper scenes were absolutely hilarious. Not only was Dwight unaware that the “waitress” was a stripper so he kept trying to order food, but Angela’s stripper was Meredith’s son. Meredith gladly showed her son how to pelvic thrust in Angela’s face, much to Angela’s horror.

But what’s great about “The Office” is that it doesn’t only have outrageous humor; there have been some incredibly poignant moments, too. The retrospective reminded us of so many great ones.

The retrospective also emphasized how this show was about ordinary people — the sweet romance (Jim and Pam), the man who wants more (Dwight), the man who wants to be loved (Michael), etc. After nine seasons, the real core of the characters had become lost or just forgotten. But the finale really emphasized these cores: Jim and Pam are happily moving to Austin, Dwight is finally married to Angela and is the regional manager, and Michael is still happily married to Holly with children.

Speaking of Michael Scott, I was not at all disappointed or underwhelmed by his reappearance. It was a smart move to not make his return too big. After all, the finale should be for the show and all its characters, not just for Michael. Michael was only seen at the wedding, which was another smart move made by the showrunners. His presence at the office party would just detract from the current employees saying goodbye to Dunder Mifflin.

I was a little underwhelmed by the panel, though. The only major thing that came from the panel is that the audience made Pam feel incredibly selfish in her relationship with Jim. It was sweet to see Erin reunited with her parents, though. I did think the concept of the panel was great in terms of getting everyone to reunite, and it was just so meta. “The Office” actors are playing ordinary people who become kind of famous, and they play these ordinary people in a panel for a show within a show. Or something like that. I still can’t fully wrap my head around it all.

So where do we leave the characters? Everyone seems to be right where they should be — Dwight is manager, Stanley is retired, Toby is fired, and Pam and Jim are leaving Scranton. I was most satisfied with Andy working with Cornell’s admissions, though. This fits him so much better as Andy had always been nostalgic for his college days. The storyline didn’t even feel rushed or completely implausible with him being the Cornell commencement speaker and all that.

“The Office” ended its nine-year run not with a loud bang, but with a hilarious, emotional, sweet, poignant bang that only “The Office” could do. Pam summed it up best: “I thought it was weird when you picked us to make a documentary. But all in all, I think an ordinary paper company like Dunder Mifflin was a great subject for a documentary. There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn’t that kind of the point?”

Goodbye, “The Office.” Thank you for everything.

Vivianne Nguyen is a contributing writer.  Email her at entertainment@nyunews.com.

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“Frances Ha” blends talents of Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach

by Ben Marques

The balance between whimsy and cynicism allow “Frances Ha” to escape what could have easily become a ninety-minute episode of HBO’s “Girls.” At the helm of “Frances” is the occasional Wes Anderson collaborator, Noah Baumbach, who delivers his most effective and fully realized film since 2005’s “The Squid and the Whale.”

The story follows Frances (Greta Gerwig), the stereotypical quirky girl who is trying to live and love and dance in New York City while maintaining control of her life. She lives with her best friend, Sophie (Mickey Sumner), as she attempts to become a member of the modern dance company where she is currently an apprentice. Naturally, everything changes and Frances is left without a home and with her future as a dancer seeming unlikely. And so, as is familiar with Baumbach films, Frances must then reevaluate all of her abilities, dreams, and relationships.

Baumbach’s films fluctuate between examinations of familial discontent and the individual in transition. His characters are always “finding” themselves. But through a biting, self-aware wit, he is able to alleviate the inherent pretentiousness at the core of this film. For example, he chooses to shoot the film in black and white, reminiscent of the French New Wave genre. Such an artistic choice just seems unnecessary, but thankfully, the result is more elegant than irritating.

What really makes this film work is Baumbach’s collaboration with Gerwig, their second after 2010’s “Greenberg.” This time, the real-life couple co-wrote the piece, accentuating every aspect of Gerwig’s natural charm. The blending of her likability and his brutally authentic perspective conjures up an intriguing contrast.

Though Gerwig anchors the film, the supporting cast is impeccable. Sumner shines as the irritated best friend trying to figure out her own life. Other standouts include Adam Driver as Lev, the womanizer, and Michael Zegen as Benji, the aspiring writer. They play rich college graduates who let Frances stay with them at one point.

Further linking the viewing experience to “Girls,” Driver (best known as Hannah Horvath’s boyfriend Adam) is effectively kind and silly. Zegen, of “Rescue Me” fame, has a sort of slacker magnetism that gives Frances hope, while never fully digressing into an archetype.

The soundtrack deserves special recognition for fixing many of the pacing issues the film would have faced. As always, Baumbach infuses the action with the modest and the mainstream, including the recurring use of David Bowie’s “Modern Love.” The film does seem a bit long, despite its brief run time. However, once the plot veers from the mumblecore genre into more interesting situations, you are so invested with the characters that it does not matter.

After a few self-serious and depressing ventures like “Margot at the Wedding,” viewers should be pleasantly surprised by the optimism found in Baumbach’s latest film. It is a delightful and frequently funny watch that never surrenders its brains for a quick laugh or a tug at the heartstrings.

Ben Marques is a contributing writer. Email him at film@nyunews.com.

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“Stories We Tell” reveals secrets of director’s own family history

by Ife Olujobi

Writer/director Sarah Polley, previously known for her two highly acclaimed feature films “Away From Her” and “Take This Waltz,” returns her talents to the screen in a new format with her first documentary feature, “Stories We Tell.” Polley isn’t afraid to leave out a single detail in her family’s history in her latest effort and manages to craft an emotional and revelatory look at how a family’s varying recollections of the past have shaped them in the future.

Polley began filming without knowing what direction her film would take, only knowing that she wanted to explore family history and the way people remember things.  She starts filming with no direction, and takes her viewers on a journey for purpose and revelation through interviews with her immediate family, friends of the family, and others who have become entwined in the thick fabric of her family’s story over the years.

Polly intercuts these interviews with footage shot on Super-8 mm film of actors that look uncannily like her parents and her family to recreate the feel of old home videos.  At the outset it appears that they are real home videos, but we later learn it isn’t so, left to try to discern what parts of the footage and photographs were real and which were manufactured.

The theme of not knowing what is real continues throughout the film as Polley asks her main subjects—her father Michael, brothers Johnny and Mark, and sisters Joanna and Susan about their experiences growing up, and their memory of their mother, Diana Polley, who died when Polley was ten years old.  As they begin to unravel the past, we see that everyone has different memories of key events that have been altered by time, repression, or the lack of all the facts, which Polley gathers from friends of her mother.

The film is never boring, as Polley, with expert pacing, uses the film’s interviews to reveal key, often shocking, information that propels the narrative forward.  It all culminates in a major revelation about Polley’s lineage—from that point, Sarah becomes more of a character in her own documentary as she struggles with the fallout and how to break the news to those she loves most.  After listening to everyone else’s story, Polley must figure out how to tell her own, and in that she finds a purpose for the film.

“Stories We Tell” is intensely personal, but all audiences will be affected by the unashamed look at a dysfunctional but loving family, and the raw openness with which Polley reveals the most intimate and damaging secrets her family has hidden for so long.  That her family was willing to tell all for the sake of Polley’s art and for personal closure is truly a cathartic experience for everyone whose family is too afraid to share their own secrets.

Ife Olujobi is a staff writer. Email her at film@nyunews.com.

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“Pieta” follows violent trend embraced by Asian cinema

by Nora Chang

Quite possibly the most shocking and psychologically distressing film of this decade, Kim Ki-Duk’s 18th feature film, “Pieta,” invited curious critics after stealing the Golden Lion Award at the 2012 Venice Film Festival from “The Master.” The ruthless style of filmmaking embodied by “Pieta,” however, is not unusual when considering the hyper-violent and sexual trend recently embraced by Asian cinema, such as 2003’s “Oldboy” and 2007’s “Lust, Caution.”

Unlike those two films, however, “Pieta” evokes cold realism. It does not put any effort to censor the agonies hidden in the corners of contemporary, industrial Seoul. The film revolves around an emotionally stunted loan shark who routinely cripples his clients for not paying their dues on time. One day, an older woman shows up out of the blue, claiming to be his mother who had abandoned him at birth. Angered and confused by her sudden appearance to his previously solitary life, he initially degenerates, but begins to rethink his abusive tendencies as he becomes attached to his supposed mother.

There is a constant oedipal and incestual undertone present throughout the film, never allowing the viewers to be at ease. In fact, the film is filled with subtlety, whether it is symbolism or tension. Like its title, the film is religiously charged in that the man finds himself seeking redemption. Can he be saved? Will the gods be so forgiving? The social commentary against today’s state of capitalism is also apparent, lingering on the pathetic lifestyles of industrial slaves who inevitably succumb to the delusion of money.

The performances by the two leads, Lee Jeong-Jin and Jo Min-Soo, are completely convincing. The viewers’ discomfort primarily arises from the actors’ visible comfort on screen; being able to perform grotesque sexual activities all the while having us believe that they are mother and son. They feed off their anger and frustration from each other, constantly competing to steal the spotlight. Lee’s gothic look helps carry his bluntness while Jo’s hippie-like, colorful appearance counters the coldness that seeps out from his emotional state. Though previously criticized for showing misogyny, “Pieta” has one of the strongest, multi-layered female protagonists in avant-garde cinema.

Kim Ki-Duk’s direction also shines. His careful choice of a gritty yet intricate production design and minimal dialogues cumulatively achieve an ominous tone that is apparent in his other critically acclaimed pieces, “Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring” and “3-Iron.” Kim seems to be interested in the various natures of humanity that is revealed when faced with desperate measures. When watching his films, it is important to look past the obscenity and notice what these shocking images reveal about Kim’s perception of religion, family, and love.

“Pieta” is difficult to watch, to say the least, but it is worth a look, as it resides on the opposite spectrum of its blockbuster Western counterparts. It is definitely not what audiences are used to, and hopefully that should serve as an appropriate warning.

Nora Chang is a contributing writer. Email her at film@nyunews.com.

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