2003 Foreign, Alternative and Independent Films

Well, chances are you got to be living in a big city to be able to catch those "Foreign, Alternative and Independent" films in the theater. If you live in Toronto or NY, you would consider yourself really lucky. Since the festival hold each year there basically has most of the "Foreign, Alternative and Independent" worth to watch.

I know that the 3 CINEMATHEQUE group in Canada (Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver) have really great program of foreign films. They once had a complete retrospective on Hou Hsiao-Hsien. Imagine that, it might be once in your life time. You don't even get that in Taiwan.

Anyone interest in compiling a resource list/guide for viewing "Foreign, Alternative and Independent film" in your city? The list would normally includes film festival, video rental store specialized in foreign film, art theater, martial art/japan anime group, university video library, language group with movie program. It would be fun to see what we get.

Lost in La Mancha, or Why Terry Gilliam Should Stay out of Spain

The shadow of Baron Munchausen hangs over Terry Gilliam as he returns to Spain (the scene of that disastrous filming experience) twelve years later to begin shooting his dream-project The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. After a week of mishaps, culminating in the illness of French actor Jean Rochefort, who was playing Don Quixote, the $38 million production collapses and is shut down. And what began as a "making of" featurette turns into a can't-look-away documentary of a train wreck that leaves you wondering how any film ever makes it to the screen.

If you're familiar with Gilliam's Criterion commentaries, or the documentary that accompanied Universal's special edition of Twelve Monkeys, then you won't be surprised at the articulate and colorful character who pops off the screen in La Mancha. As narrator Jeff Bridges explains early in the film, Gilliam's reputation as an enfant terrible is only partially deserved. The Munchausen disaster was more the producer's fault than his (a contention borne out by the materials that Criterion assembled), and most of his films have made money. Still, there's a reason why one of his producers refers to him as "Captain Chaos".

The bulk of the mishaps that you see in La Mancha are the kind that might end up as footnotes in the history of any big studio production: NATO jets flying overhead for training exercises during the shoot, a sudden unexpected storm that destroys the location where the company has been shooting for several days (the footage of the storm is pretty spectacular), animals that won't obey their trainers, etc. But the decisive problem came when the 70-year-old star of the film was declared unfit by his doctors for an indefinite period of time. At that point, with no financial safety net because the film was not studio-financed, the European producers pulled the plug.

The film is a must for Gilliam fans, but it should also be required viewing for every HTF member who has ever used a phrase like "what the director intended". Although I'm sure this was not their focus, the documentarians Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe end up demonstrating in great detail just how collaborative an art filmmaking really is -- even in failure -- and how much the director's "vision" is at the mercy of people and things over which he has no control at all.

Technical notes: Lost in La Mancha was filmed in digital video, and its correct aspect ratio is 4:3. Landmark's excellent Sunshine Theater in New York City displayed the film on a properly masked screen in the correct AR. The digital video no doubt gave Fulton and Pepe great freedom, but it comes at a price. There are many shots, some of them animated, of Gilliam's elaborate storyboards and concept art, and these suffer mightily from the limited resolution of DV. Any part of a drawing with fine detail reveals serious aliasing of the type that I used to see only on my TV screen.

M.

Okay, I ended up seeing The Road (Darezhan Omirbaev), Love Torn in Dream (Raoul Ruiz), Happy Here and Now (Michael Almereyda), and demonlover (Olivier Assayas). All the showings of 11'09"01 were all sold out. These films are all currently undistributed, but hopefully, they'll be picked up soon (I'm especially rooting for Happy Here and Now and The Road from this batch). Here are my Journal Notes:

The Road (2001). If the visual expression of artistic process in Federico Fellini's surreal and reflexive film, 8 1/2 were to be distilled into the spare, elemental cinema of Abbas Kiarostami, the result would likely be similar to Darezhan Omirbaev's evocatively muted, endearing, innately affectionate, and poetic film, The Road. A pensive director named Amir Kobessov (played by fellow Kazhakstanian filmmaker, Jamshed Usmanov) is currently in the process of editing his next film (based on Omirbaev's Killer) when he receives a telegram informing him of his mother's illness and is encouraged by his wife to return to his rural hometown and pay a visit. Alternately reflecting on dilemmas of artistic integrity, cultural and traditional reverence, self-doubt, inspiration, marital friction, fidelity, physical attraction, and familial estrangement, The Road is a visually sublime and understatedly metaphoric insight into the creative - and innately human - struggle of the contemplative soul.

Love Torn in Dream (2000). Raoul Ruiz's Love Torn in Dream is an inscrutably hypnotic, painterly, structurally organic, and logically impenetrable film that lyrically and visually conflates a series of historical periods, role-swapping character actors, and states of consciousness into a fanciful - albeit distended and maddeningly opaque - tale of love, fate, and destiny. Similar to Time Regained in the lush imagery and temporal fluidity of the film, Love Torn in Dream episodically interweaves several fable-like stories that include of a band of pirates marooned on a coast, a seminarian who plays an innocuous prank on a demure and beautiful nun at the confessional, a young man searching for his father, a restless wife who pines for her absent husband, and a fatigued web developer who discovers an internet site that predicts his actions 24 hours in advance. However, despite its sumptuous texturality and intricate composition, the film suffers from a tediously repetitive and defiantly nonsensical and idiosyncratic absurdist tone.

Happy Here and Now (2002). A young woman named Amelia (Liane Balaban), has arrived to New Orleans to search for her sister, Muriel (Shalom Harlow) after she abruptly and inexplicably lost contact with her, and the key to the beautiful young woman's disappearance seems to lie in the formatted harddrive of her laptop computer. It is through this mysterious framework that Michael Almereyda explores the growing phenomenon of technological alienation in Happy Here and Now. The opening shot of Almereyda's organically fluid, understated, and intriguing film is composed of a pixellated, split framed monitor image of a private webchat as a highly articulate, self-confident, and dashing firefighter, Eddie Mars (Karl Geary) discusses the illusion of human contact in the virtual social environment of the internet with a solemn - and achingly receptive - Muriel. As the young man seductively muses on late night online chats on the surrogacy of online avatars, illusion of perfect love, and elusive ideal of platonic relationships, the film serves as an insightful meditation on the nature of reality, disconnection, and intimacy.

Demonlover (2002). The insidious consequences of technology are similarly explored in Olivier Assayas' ambitious, savage, and thematically replete, but ultimately unfocused and tangentially occluded feature Demonlover. The initial premise of the film centers on the ruthless machinations of competing corporations as they respond to the delicate final negotiations over a partnership with a successful Japanese animé studio that is currently developing hyperrealistic 3D adult manga animation for the internet: code named "demonlover". But in order to finalize the highly lucrative and symbiotic venture, the individual parties are compelled to address several commercially inconvenient and questionable internet ventures, including a possible association with a notorious, real-time snuff-broadcasting underground website ominously known as the Hell Fire Club. Unfortunately, despite Assayas's admirable exploration of a difficult and complex subject on the blurred delineation between reality and fantasy, consumerism and exploitation, the film suffers from a meandering, preposterous, and schizophrenic plot that inevitably dilutes the film's relevant, underlying themes of corporate greed, technological amorality, and voyeurism.

Saving a country and saving a woman would be the same thing to him, a comment made by Michael Caine’s journalist character on the oh, so idealistic title character portrayed by Brendan Fraser in

The Quiet American.

And what a pairing, particularly by Caine, as they vie for the love of Phuong and are driven by circumstances and their characters to subtrfuge, heroism, and betrayal.

This is a finely realized version of Graham Greene’s novel of the same name. Though it has been many years since I have read the book, this film captures (as I remember) Greene’s intent and feel, even if it is not, in all cases an accurate rendition. The essential moral questions that Greene always presents in his works remain intact: what is the world and our place in it; why are we not who we seem; what is the nature of love or desire; and why is the world more complex than we thought.

All of this without characters shouting or having outwardly dramatic confrontations. But inwardly the turmoil is brought to a boil. The passion repressed by each character explodes on the screen as events drive the country to an ever-escalating violence.

Presenting us with yet another set of questions to ponder: these ones are questions more of State and the stand taken by protagonists as they attempt to resolve their view of ‘what is right’ from a broad sense, to ‘what is right for me’.

A powerful film indeed, directed by Australian Phillip Noyce, in far different fashion than his recent efforts (I except Rabbit Proof Fence) and photographed by Chris Doyle (most familiar to me as Wong Kar-Wai’s DP), these men bring us a pace and a look, that ranges from languid to urgent and always matches what we expect at the time.

For me, Caine has the best performance in 2002, though I expect that he and the film will be ignored when the awards are handed out.

City of God

I don't have much to add to what's been said in numerous published reviews. The film is thoroughly engrossing, tossing you back and forth between the exhilaration of its technique and the despair of the circumstances it portrays. In some ways it reminded me of Goodfellas, except that Goodfellas took place in an ordered society. In City of God, the only rule is that there's always a more dangerous psychopath ready to take down the one that's currently on top. Long before the film reaches its bleak conclusion, it's become clear that the murders, beatings and rapes occurring almost randomly throughout the film have little or no purpose; it's just what people do.

The film is a marvel of storytelling technique. It juggles a lot of characters, played by different actors in different eras, and it uses every trick in the book -- voiceover narration, flashback, freeze-frame, you name it -- to keep the viewer anchored in the story. Just when you're starting to have trouble remembering who did what that led us to this point, the film slips you a little reminder. I suspect repeat viewings will reveal even greater depth, and I'm looking forward to it.

M.

Love Liza 1/2

Love Liza deals with the grieving process of Will, an IT tech whose wife just commited suicide. Will's reluctance to open the suicide note is the device used to string the audience along in this otherwise very unfocused movie.

Somehow the filmmaker must have thougth that watching will wander around in a perpetual gazoline induced high was entertaining - it's not. Perhaps the lack of focus is supposed to represent Will's state of mind? Not very effective.

None of the characters are even remotely interesting, including the lead. Hoffman does an excellent job as usual, but that alone is not enough to make this one worth it.

--
Holadem

The Quiet American

I think twenty cities get the film today. Phillip Noyce has done a very good job at adapting Graham Greene's novel for the screen.

Michael Caine has his best role in years (though for the year I must go with Adrien Brody as my favorite) and Bredan Fraiser shows why he need to do more films like this. These two are perfect as outgrowths of their respective countries.

My only complaint is that revealing the fate of the characters in the first scene and telling the film though flashbacks takes some of the sting out. It has been so long since I had read the book I don't remember if it is the same. And Michael Caine's voiceovers seem to be there just to replay what just happened for people that missed the symbolism.

Overall I really liked this film. The look takes you back to French Indochina of the 1950s with the wonder photography, Chris Doyle also did Rabbit-Proof Fence, another great looking film. Also, Lew we must have been in the same screening the other night.

Probably so. My wife and I had dinner across the street at Paris Vendome, the French bistro right across the street before the screening. It fit in well with the theme of the night.

As far as Brody’s role goes, in many ways I consider it more difficult as he has such long periods where he must carry the scene without dialog. On the other hand, I have to admire the combination of world-weary restraint and passion for Phong (and for Vietnam) that Caine brings to his character. Plus there is a little of the last salesman syndrome in my assessment of his performance. I’m very pleased with both performances and don’t really care which one is best.

BTW, I used to live in Plano. When we returned to the States we moved closer to where we normally go to movies and dinner.

I was not put off by the flashback. I thought that it was all a part of the inevitability of their fate, and of their inability to have acted differently. Still, if I find time, I may reread the novel—it’s been a long time for me as well.

No "last salesman" syndrome, here, Lew. It's been over two months since I saw The Quiet American, and it's still my favorite performance by an actor from last year.

(It just occurred to me that my review probably got archived with the 2002 Alternative thread. It's here.)

I very much admire Adrien Brody's work in The Pianist. In the opening scene, which is one of the film's most harrowing, he tells you volumes about Szpilman without a word of dialogue. But for all of its power, there's a certain sameness to Brody's persona throughout the movie that is almost unavoidable, given the character he plays and the story he's telling. The film is all about how Szpilman held onto something at his core as everything around him was destroyed; so Brody has to do variations on the same thing for over two hours. He does it brilliantly, but the range is relatively narrow.

OTOH, Caine's Thomas Fowler runs the gamut of extremes from reserve to rage and despair, often surprising himself with the intensity of his own emotions -- and the amazing thing is that Caine makes it all seem quite natural and believable. It's a stunning piece of work, without a hint of mannerism or artifice. Unfortunately, it's probably going to be overlooked in favor of Nicholson's much more mannered and artificial work in About Schimdt.

M.

At lunch I was out and caught the tail end of an interview of a Michael Caine interview on Fresh Air. It was a repeat from a few years ago but very interesting. Some PBS radio stations replay it at night so. I thought it interesting he turned down a role in Women in Love due to the nudity.

Caine & Brody's performances are by far my two favorites. I might be giving the edge to Brody because he is newer, I guess I just expect a great performance from Caine, and I perfered his film better. I do agree that the Oscars will honor either Nicholson or Day-Lewis come award night.

Just saw The Quiet American the other day in advance of its opening here next week. (Also got the not-so-great treat of seeing reels 2 and 3 twice, once in the wrong order and once in the proper order.) I prefer this Noyce film over Rabbit-Proof Fence, which I thought was good but rather one note. Caine is terrific, as is Christopher Doyle's cinematography. Ironic that the political climate is what brought about it's delay since it is as relevant now as at any time. FWIW, I thought Caine's voiceovers gave us the richness of Greene's text, just like Ralph Fiennes' VOs in The End of the Affair.

Finally got to see Talk To Her, which I loved. Like Punch-Drunk Love, it's sort of a musical without the songs. More on this one at a later time...

Saw a true "alternative" film tonight. *Corpus Callosum is an experimental film that I haven't completely processed. There's no narrative, just images, usually people, being manipulated in all manners with the use of technology. Jonathan Rosenbaum named it the best film of 2002. Well, perhaps for hardcore cineastes or those well versed in experimental film... This probably had the most walkouts of any movie I've ever seen, not because it's offensive but because it's avant-garde and, well, an unusual viewing experience. More on this one later if the spirit moves me...

Did a 2-fer last night:

Russian Ark is beautiful and stunning, not what I expect at all from the premise and some things I'd read, but quite similar in some ways to the only other Aleksandr Sokurov film I've seen, the equally stunning Mother & Son. Yes, Russian Ark is a journey through the grand Hermitage museum where we see room after room of beautiful artwork, not to mention the ornateness of the museum itself, the former Winter Palace of the Tsar's. We learn the origins of some of the art, how they came to the museum, and events from the museum's history and that of Russia. We are stunned by the technical grandeur of the undertaking. And yet, Russian Ark is much more than these things.

It is not only a journey through a building and through time, but it is a journey through the mind. The Ark can be seen as a physical structure, a place that holds the dreams, aspirations, and creativity of millions of human beings. A building that holds the very fabric of human culture and could be seen as important and worthy of preservation as Noah and the animals. But I think Russian Ark is also declaring that we each have a personal Ark. Our brains where this outpouring of memory, history, exprience, and the creative spark resides.

I think this is a film that will grow richer with each viewing. There is so much to see and absorb between what we're seeing in the museum, what we're seeing technically, and what the film is telling us that it's likely impossible to see everything the first time. Whether it's counted in 2002 or 2003 it is one of the best of this year or any other.

City of God is also a powerful film. I could not help but be affected by seeing so many people who's lives offer only a choice of crime, violence, or grinding hopeless poverty. Seeing gangs of gun-toting 10-12 year olds is particularly disturbing. But I liked that the film did not offer only this single viewpoint. The characters had their moments of happiness and several saw that their were alternatives to the hellish situations in their lives.

I did feel the film stumbled toward's it's final act. For the most part the filmmakers give us a vibrant, highly-charged fractured narrative. But it grinds the forward momentum to a halt when it tells the story of Rocket's (the main character) employment. While this proves to be important information for us, it should have come at a different place in the story or have been told faster. Instead these scenes stop the film just as things REALLY begin to spiral out of control.

Up until that moment it was a sure top 10 for me, I was sceptical of the Goodfellas comparisons but ended up agreeing with them. The film is sad and thrilling, empathic and brutal. As is, City of God remains a very fine film that is well worth taking the time to seek out.

If you like Larry Clark's films, you'll love Ken Park -- his best work yet. If you don't like Clark, you will absolutely loath Ken Park. He takes his theme of nihilistic uber-dysfunctional suburban teenagers to an absolute extreme of dysfunction topping it off with hardcore sex and brutal violence and this time having adults around who are way farther gone than their kids.

What makes Ken Park a great film? I challenge anyone here to name a better acted one. If it wasn't for the presence of a familiar actress (Amanda Plummer) it would be easier to believe that Clark and co-director Ed Lachman have somehow managed to sneak a 35mm camera and movie lights into Visalia, California and filmed the locals without anyone noticing than to believe that you can have acting this convincing and natural. And unlike Bully, where the protagonists were simply repulsive, the ones in Ken Park really get you involved -- I hate to admit it, but Harmony Korine actually wrote a good script.

Clark (who along with Lachman & some of the cast and crew was present at the screening) said that the budget and the producers envisioned a DV film, but the co-directors begged, borrowed and stole and did in 35, and I'm certainly glad they did. After seeing the film, it was impossible to imagine that it would have had anywhere close to the same impact had it been shot on video...

According to Clark, there now is a US distributor (one I've never heard of) so if you live in a big city, you might get a chance to see it.

Whatever Larry Clark's virtues, and there are many, starting with his amazing still photography from before he turned to film, he is second to none in terms of perfect casting and eliciting unbelievable performances from his actors. As one example, I have seen plenty of real sex on screen, but never sex that looked so real. Or life so real.

I do hope to see one day Clark tackling material that is not ready-made for the Jerry Springer show -- I'd be very interested in the results.

Ted

P.S. Best blurb about Ken Park -- seen on the web: "Making Happiness look like Dumbo, Ken Park does not push the envelope -- Ken Park runs the envelope through a paper shredder, douses it in lighter fluid, and sets it aflame. It then urinates on the ashes."

I had wondered what had happened to Ken Park after its carefully selected festival run(s) last year. Larry Clark definitely pushes the envelope with his choice of subject matters and it takes a certain frame of mind to watch his films. We'll see if his latest film comes around in my neck of the woods.

Anyway, I have updated the main post with the scheduled February - early March releases.

~Edwin

Ted, any random clause in your excellent review far exceeds this hackneyed quip, this tired shorthand, this retreaded substitute for real criticism. It reads like ad-copy for a particularly sensationalistic installment at the Brooklyn Museum of Art (remember: "the contents of this exhibition may cause shock, vomiting, loose bowels, lost monocles, erections, anal bleeding...")

But I have the same question about "Ken Park" as I do about Larry's other films... does it strike you as probing, insightful and trenchantly honest? Or exploitative and crassly voyeuristic?

I'm impressed by Larry Clark's skills as a filmmaker, but I could say the same about Leni Reifenstahl. I was thrilled by your review and excited to see what I hoped to be (finally) a full fruition of Clark's skills as a filmmaker... until your Jerry Springer remark and quotation of hackneyed web-based blurb seemed to suggest the oppposite. There's so much brilliance in his films, but then there's the sort of sensationalism and misanthropy that lesser artists wear like a suit of criticism-deflecting armor, as though achieving a certain critical mass of controversy would deflect the sort of serious critique that looks past the miserable schadenfreude of "tweaking the squares" or ensuring that the bourgeoisie will shift uncomfortably in their seats. It's cheap, or can be, and I've often felt that Clark straddles this line because he's less than secure with his subject matter and his stature as an artist.

Rich,

I think that Clark simply follows the "write/shoot/film" what you know dictum, I don't get the sense that he is trying for a deliberate assault on the squares. This film is originally based on stories he wrote about real people that he had met.

I don't think the quote I included in way accurately describes the film, I just found it funny, but maybe I should have kept it to myself.

I think that Clark genuinely likes the young people who populate his films and photographs. He does clearly loath the places that they live in and their parents.

Anyway, I would love to hear your take on Ken Park, but then again I'm still waiting for your say on Soderbergh's Solaris

Ted

Heh heh... Solaris. Unfortunately, it left the theaters before I was sufficiently compelled to see it - can you wait till the DVD release? I understand that Lem has since denounced Soderbergh's version (resurrecting some verbiage from his denunciation of Tarkovsky's), but it seems that Lem spends most of his time denouncing things anyway!

To be upfront, my knowledge of Russian history prior to the Bolshevik revolutions is very limited. So that I found Russian Ark to be unsatisfying, I freely admit that I may be missing some crucial perspectives to understand it better. That being said, Russian Ark nonetheless takes some roads too many times over without being an engaging experience. The intended, loosely structured scenes offer little drama in themselves. When historical figures appear, the filmmakers do not make a strong point with them, nor are they interesting enough to spark my own medidation. I am also unsure why the film mostly looks at the times prior to the revolution, but then sneaks in a few comments that imply the consequences of Communist rule. The feeling for the past is nostalgic (the gracefulness of the film's form makes it so even if there is an element of showing the ridiculousness of the people); when the European makes a crucial decision, the filmmakers seem to be commenting on later times. But because the movie avoids a showing of the revolution or the communist rule, and that the European's thinking is never shown well enough, I don't feel the filmmakers have earned that moment of commentary. Unfortunately, I think watching an 86 minute take on how the camera and staging were done for Russian Ark would be more interesting than the movie itself.

It's nice to see All The Real Girls treat its small town characters without a condescending attitude. In fact, the movie loves these people, and we share their sadness. There are many moments of tenderness, it's a joy to watch. Zooey Deschanel is expressive and real as a girl who seems slightly out of place. Not so sure about Paul Schneider; his earnest performance doesn't give the feeling that this man was a jerk before we saw him. Their relationship is very intriguing. They are sometimes put against, or intercutted with nature; it works well. The film doesn't have a fast tempo, but because it knows everyone so well, it's a rewarding experience.

I wish I could share the critical enthusiasm for All the Real Girls, because the film has some very good things in it (notably Zooey Deschanel). But I found the narrative, such as it is, meandering, and the result is to place even more of a burden on the two leads to sustain our interest -- and Paul Schneider just isn't strong enough. The scenes with Patricia Clarkson as Schneider's mother are interesting, because anything with Clarkson is interesting, but they seem forced into the movie, particularly when she shows up in clown make-up.

M.

I'm dying to see David Gordon Green's All the Real Girls, but I did get to see Gus Van Sant's Gerry today. Great film, although opinions are going to vary wildly on this one. When I have more time, I'll come back and add some comments. Suffice it to say, I expect this one to be among 2003's best.

I strongly echo Mark's feelings on both Quiet American and Talk to Her. Talk to Her broke me down at the end to be honest, yet the moment is not a sad nor joyful moment, just a great one involving Marco at the intermission of a stage presentation. The acting by Dario playing Marco was incredible. He is a real force in the film.

And while my complaints in the RPFence thread might have led people to think I didn't like that film, nothing could be further from the truth. I scored it quite well (8 of 10), but I also think that Quiet American is Noyce's better film of the two. Honestly I was a bit surprised by the overall quality since all the discussion had focused on Caine. There are some really stand-out lines of dialog in the film including some contradictory metaphors/symbolisms used by Caine and Frazier on the same subjects (Viet Nam/the girl).


Looks like City of God and Lost in La Mancha are probably next up for Indy within the next few weeks.

I’d agree with you Seth, that The Quiet American the is better Noyce/Doyle film. Of course the source material (Green’s novel) is very much more complex and compelling than is Rabbit Proof Fence, which suffers (in the story) from a bit of over-sentimentalizing—not something of which Greene was ever accused.

I thought that Noyce captured very well the moral ambiguity of Greene, a precursor to what would occur later.

My wife and I caught Talk to Her this weekend and were very impressed. I can only repeat what Brook wrote in his posting—a must see.

Coincidently, I’d just finished up with having caught Todo sobre mi madre, where I felt that Almodovar spent a bit too much time showing off. This film takes the chances (as Brook wrote), but we are rewarded in the end (I felt as Seth did in the end) in that the director steers the course and does not distract us with side pyrotechniques.

Lawless Heart

This charming British import uses some familiar devices, but it uses them well. The film opens at the funeral of Stuart, a character we never meet, and follows three of the mourners through the days after the funeral. The film rewinds back to the funeral so that each of the three gets his own "story". Their paths criss-cross, and certain incidents don't make complete sense until you've seen them from multiple perspectives.

Two things distinguish the film. The first is the uniformly excellent performances, especially by Bill Nighy as Dan, Stuart's brother-in-law, and Tom Hollander as Stuart's live-in lover. The third character, Tim (Douglas Henshall), is a friend who has returned for the funeral after an eight-year absence. For the first two thirds of the film, he's just irritating. Only in the final act do you begin to get a sense of where he fits into the story.

The other thing that sets the film apart is its refusal to grasp at phony resolutions. One or two things get settled, but by the end, when the main characters are sitting watching home movies of Stuart (another familiar device), they're still pretty much the same people we first met. We just know them a lot better.

The film was shot on the Isle of Man and features a soft, washed-out look. The editing and camera setups are very precise, as they must be to make the overlapping stories work together.

M.

Just a heads-up for Indy folks - Lost in La Mancha starts this FRI at Castleton (Feb 28). Russian Ark starts a week after that at Keystone (March 7).

I saw "Lost in La Mancha" last week here in SF...fantastic, highly recommended.

-Dennis

David Cronenberg's Spider has now been given a limited release, after a one-week Oscar-qualifying run in December. Edwin Pereyra's review of the film is here in the 2002 predecessor to this thread. I think the film does the most effective possible job of bringing the audience into the character's disordered point of view, but I'm not sure most people would want the experience. The film reproduces Spider's madness but doesn't try to explain it, and the ending offers only cold, hard, practical reality -- no uplift or resolution. This mind is anything but beautiful.

EDIT: On re-reading the above, I realized that it sounds like I didn't like the film, which is the wrong impression. I loved the performances -- especially Miranda Richardson and John Neville -- and the visuals are some of the best ever seen in a Cronenberg film: eerie, deserted urban landscapes that are not so much terrifying as just plain creepy. As far as I can tell, there isn't a single effects shot in the film, which just goes to show how much can be accomplished with just the traditional elements of cinema (lighting, framing, editing -- and acting).

M.

Making one of my very few contributions to a thread I should be in more, but anyway:

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not is a wickedly fun French film from first-time director Laetitia Colombani, combining gear-changing storytelling and the sparkling Audrey Tautou as a woman who seems to be simply in love with a doctor (Samuel LeBain from "Brotherhood of the Wolf"), but has more going on in her head. To reveal more would spoil the surprises, and the fun of discovery, in this great thriller.

I'll happily get into it some more once it gets more widely released, and hopefully soon!

Jason

Yes, you should!

He Love Me, He Loves Me Not was playing in the theater next door to where I saw Spider. I don't think it's playing outside of New York and probably L.A. I'd love to find time to see it, but with a flood of indies hitting New York in March, I'm not sure I'll be able to get there.

Would you rank it above Laurel Canyon and The Safety of Objects?

M.

And this is one of the reasons why I preferred Spider over the special effects populated A Beautiful Mind. I found that a film dealing with the subject matter of mental illness is all the more effective using a minimalist approach while getting its strength from its performances and direction that matches a well-executed narrative. Some things better left imagined.

~Edwin

Tickets have gone on sale to the public for this year's New Directors/New Films festival.

Click here for the schedule.

Ted