Author: Joe Bendel

LFM Reviews The New Restoration of 1972’s Weekend of a Champion

By Joe Bendel. It came between Macbeth and Chinatown, or in less edifying terms, between the horrifying murder of Sharon Tate and the infamous rape of an under-aged girl in Jack Nicholson’s Mulholland home. Even Formula One champion Jackie Stewart seemed rather surprised by Roman Polanski’s interest in the sport, but they got on famously in Frank Simon’s rarely seen documentary, Weekend of a Champion, produced by on-camera super-fan Polanski, which opens this Friday at the IFC Center.

In 1971, it was debatable who was a bigger celebrity, Stewart or Polanski. Stewart was looking to win his second Monaco Grand Prix as part of his march towards a second Formula One world championship. However, this would be his first race in a brand new car. Although unharmed, Stewart was still somewhat shook up from the accident that had totaled his previous vehicle. Still, Stewart appears to have a natural affinity for Monte Carlo’s street course, explaining each twisty turn to Polanski in the drive-along that might be the film’s highlight.

If you are a fan of Jackie Stewart or Formula One racing in general, then Weekend is all kinds of awesome. If not, the Polanski factor and the nostalgic vibe are just enough to keep non-fans invested. Evidently, Formula One was a different beast forty-some years ago. Having already lost most of his closest friends and colleagues to track related accidents, Stewart was arguably lucky just to be alive. His tireless advocacy of safety reforms would dramatically improve driver mortality rates. Yet, the sport was also considerably more intimate at the time. Fans lining the Monte Carlo streets could practically reach out and touch the cars as they flashed by.

The newly restored Weekend adds a new postscript featuring Stewart and Polanski talking about how things used to be. It is mostly forgettable mutual appreciation stuff, but when they revisit the road course, it really brings home that sense of how time passes.

In all likelihood, Weekend probably will not convert vast armies of Formula One fans, but viewers can easily see how Stewart smoothly segued into a second career as a broadcast commentator. He has a way of explaining nuts-and-bolts details in clear and descriptive terms. Frankly, Polanski is just along for the ride, but his rapport with Stewart seems genuine.

Once the race starts, there is hardly any question as to the outcome, but Simon and the battery of editors nicely bake in a fair degree of suspense through sequences addressing the new car and uncertain weather conditions. While not exactly a cinematic landmark, Weekend is a highly watchable as a sports documentary time capsule, with obvious novelty value to cineastes. It is sort of mind-blowing that this even exists, but here it is (with fleeting cameos from Ringo Starr and Joan Collins). Recommended for motor sports enthusiasts and compulsive Polanski apologists, Weekend of a Champion opens this Friday (11/22) in New York at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on November 19th, 2013 at 11:49am.

Faith and Fraud in Provincial Korea: LFM Reviews The Fake

By Joe Bendel. Pastor Sung is sort of a Korean Elmer Gantry, except he is the closest thing to a good guy in this dark, animated examination of human nature. He had the profound misfortune to become entangled with a ruthless con artist, but the man out to expose them is the worst of the lot in Yeon Sang-ho’s The Fake, which just started a week-long Oscar-qualifying run in Los Angeles.

The best part of absentee father Min-chul has been his absence. Physically and emotionally abusive, his homecoming is far from a happy event for his meek wife and daughter, the long suffering Young-sun. Plundering Young-sun’s college savings for gambling money, Min-chul inadvertently drives her into the arms of the local faith-healing church—the very sort of outfit he most despises.

Devastated by a prior scandal, the gentle Pastor Sung has fallen for the false promises of “Elder” Choi, a wanted con man. Through drunken happenstance (and a night in lock-up), Min-chul learns the truth about Choi, but nobody will listen to the obnoxious cretin. A savage war commences between Min-chul and Choi’s henchmen, while the shadowy crook pressures Pastor Sung to finish fleecing his flock.

Fake is nothing like what you probably expect, beyond its pitch black portrayal of human nature. Its depiction of blind faith might be unflattering, but nothing is more miserable than the abject lack of a higher meaning in one’s life. Min-chul is not an anti-hero. He is a vile brute driven by rage and contempt for his fellow man—and he is unquestionably the face of atheism throughout the film. In a variation on Chesterton, Min-chul suggests those who believe in nothing, hate everything.

From "Fake."

With its acrid irony and complete lack of sentimentality, Fake is not likely to be embraced by Christian audiences. Yet, it is a deeply moral film. It is also unremittingly pessimistic, perhaps setting the world’s record for the most grimly naturalistic animated feature ever. Frankly, Yeon’s figures are not very expressive, perhaps showing slightly less definition than those in his feature debut, The King of Pigs. However, his characters very definitely have something to say. Set in a provincial small town scheduled to be demolished for the sake of a massive public works project, the film also has a distinctive, vaguely apocalyptic vibe that is hard to shake.

Parents should note, Fake is completely inappropriate for children. In addition to its very complex themes, there is considerable violence, harsh language, and all kinds of inhumanity directed at man and beast alike. However, the mature audiences for whom it is intended should find it a visceral, but surprisingly thoughtful film. Highly recommended for those who appreciate challenging adult animation (and Academy members), The Fake is now showing at the CGV Cinemas in Los Angeles.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on November 19th, 2013 at 11:46am.

The Story of Calvin & Hobbes: LFM Reviews Dear Mr. Watterson

By Joe Bendel. Bill Watterson is sort of like the Salinger of syndicated comic strips. Despite the popularity of Calvin & Hobbes, he has shunned the media spotlight and steadfastly refused to license merchandise (even including stuffed Hobbes dolls). Yet, years after he inked his final panel, people still feel like they share a deep personal relationship with his characters. Director-editor Joel Allen Schroeder proclaims his love for the comic characters and invites others to do the same in the tribute-documentary, Dear Mr. Watterson, which opens this Friday in New York.

There will probably never be a Calvin & Hobbes Christmas special, so devotees of the Christopher Robin-like boy and his probably imaginary tiger will have to settle for Schroeder’s doc. Do not hold your breath waiting for the titular Mr. Watterson to sit down and remember when, either. Instead, Schroeder talks to a number of fans and fair number of Watterson’s fannish-sounding fellow cartoonists.

While that is all very good, it is not exactly earthshaking stuff. More interesting are the behind-the-scenes reminiscences of Watterson’s professional colleagues at his newspaper syndicate and his book publisher. What emerges is a portrait of an art form bordering on e-driven extinction. Sadly, viewers get a sense C&H was not the peak of daily comic strips, but the last great hurrah.

It is too bad Watterson’s participation was such an “as if,” because he rather sounds like someone with something to say. He is still remembered for a blistering and some say prescient address to a professional cartoonists’ assembly warning of the consequences of the commercialization of comic strips and the erosion of creators’ control. Bloom County cartoonist Berkley Breathed sort of fondly discusses the pointed letters Watterson once set him, not so gently calling him out for his Opus plush toys and other merchandising.

One of the open questions of Dear is whether the now defunct C&H strip will retain its cultural currency without the TV specials and various toys to drive awareness for younger readers. Schroeder and his talking heads are sure it will, because it is just so darn good, but clearly they are speaking out of optimism and affection.

Dear is a gentle film that celebrates the wholesome values and artistic integrity of Calvin & Hobbes, which is refreshing, but not particularly cinematic. At times, it almost plays like the DVD extra to a non-existent C&A animated feature. Pleasant and well intentioned (but almost terminally nice), Dear Mr. Watterson is mostly recommended for Calvin & Hobbes diehards and those who harbor daily cartooning ambitions when it opens this Friday (11/15) in New York at the Cinema Village.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on November 14th, 2013 at 3:32pm.

La Dolce Vita: LFM Reviews The Great Beauty, Italy’s Oscar Submission

By Joe Bendel. Writers write, that’s what they do. Jep Gambardella still qualifies, just barely. After the publication of his acclaimed first novel, he chose to spend the rest of his career penning Vanity Fair-style celebrity profiles. It was much easier, but far less satisfying. Gambardella belatedly realizes this holds true for all aspects of his life in Paolo Sorrentino’s The Great Beauty, Italy’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which opens this Friday in New York.

It is Garbardella’s sixty-fifth birthday and his social circle is ready to party like they are really his friends. The magazine writer is in his element. However, he turns uncharacteristically pensive when he learns his great lost lover has passed away, perhaps still harboring undiminished feelings for him. Hoping to experience a similar passion, Gambardella commences a relationship with Ramona, the daughter of his old strip-club owner crony, who still works in the family business at the impressive age of forty-two. Perhaps there is some substance to their affair, but at the very least, her presence on his arm thoroughly scandalizes Rome’s high society.

A rapturous viewing experience, Great Beauty must be the most elegant looking and sounding film since Luca Guadagnino’s I am Love. Frankly, it takes considerable guts to make a film that so perilously invites comparison to Fellini’s La Dolce Vita, but Sorrentino has boldly gone there nonetheless. He masterfully maintains a mood that is palpably seductive and elegiac. Indeed, Great Beauty is likely to induce a midlife crisis in viewers, regardless of their age or accomplishments. Yet, it is an elusive cinematic statement that slips through your fingers whenever you try to analyze it.

Sorrentino’s frequent collaborator Toni Servillo gives the career performance of an accomplished career as Gambardella. Wonderfully urbane and devilishly witty, he nonetheless acutely expresses Gambardella’s each and every regret. This is Academy Award caliber work, but Great Beauty is so refined and mature it will probably be lucky just to make the foreign language cut.

Of course, Servillo is not laboring alone. As Ramona, Sabrina Ferilli’s earthy vulnerability perfectly complements Servillo’s cerebral angst, while the manic melancholy of Carlo Vendone as Gambardella’s writer-associate further heightens the Fellini-esque vibe, whereas Giovanna Vignola is simply incomparable as his acerbic editor, the diminutive Dadana.

Clearly, nobody shoots statuary and architectural edifices like cinematographer Luca Bigazzi. Similarly, the themes composed by Lele Marchitelli, as well as several shrewdly licensed selections from the likes of Arvo Pärt, provide a rich feast for the ears. Altogether, Great Beauty is a powerful and assured film on every level. Very highly recommended (especially to Academy members), it opens this Friday (11/15) in New York at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on November 11th, 2013 at 2:48pm.

A Homecoming for Russians Artists: LFM Reviews Enter Here

By Joe Bendel. Ilya Kabakov does not really care how many millions of people Stalin murdered—more relevant to him is the way the Soviet state treated his mother like dirt. His intensely personal experiences under Communism profoundly shaped his conceptual work, created in collaboration with his wife, Emilia. After twenty years in the West, Kabakov finally returns to Moscow for an ambitious series of installations. Amei Wallach documents their mostly triumphant homecoming in Ilya and Emilia Kabakov: Enter Here, which opens this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Kabakov’s contemporaries all acknowledge the Moscow Conceptualists started with him. Like most of his colleagues, Kabakov paid the bills illustrating children’s books. It allowed him plenty of free time to pursue to pursue his own work – in secret, of course. Arguably, the young Kabakov was rather fortunate when the Leningrad Art School accepted him, at a time when both pupil and institution had been evacuated to Samarkand. However, his formative art school years remain a source of pain and anger for Kabakov.

Years later, Kabakov’s mother agreed to his request for a written account of her difficult life. The narration of her words form the film’s strongest sequences, chronicling her hand-to-mouth years, working as the night watchman at his art school, living illegally in a converted water-closet, because she lacked the proper residency papers. Constantly evicted by bureaucrats and snitches, Kabakov’s mother was essentially homeless and shunned in the workers’ paradise. Her missive-memoir became the framework for Labyrinth, My Mother’s Album and its influence on other pieces is unmistakable.

While Ilya Kabakov clearly emerges as the senior partner, Emilia Kabakov seems perfectly content to serve as the more practical liaison with the business side of the art world. Twelve years his senior, Emilia Kabakov carries far less personal baggage from the Soviet years. However, it is rather eye-opening for her coming across an old informer’s journal with her family somewhat ominously identified as “the Jews.”

The Kabakovs’ brand of conceptual art is far more accessible than what might come to mind after watching the Herb & Dorothy documentaries. Unlike some of their colleagues, the Kabakovs’ work is clearly both intellectually and emotionally engaging, with their ironic use of Soviet symbols and the trappings of crummy everyday Russian life speaking volumes. Kabakov frequently incorporates his paintings into their so-called “total installations,” which further heightens their visual impact.

With an eye for telling details, Wallach and her crew nicely capture a sense of the viewing experience of the Kabakovs’ installations. Likewise, she also catches the artists, particularly Ilya, in reflective moods. Executed with sensitivity, insight, and a dash of style, Ilya and Emilia Kabakov: Enter Here is recommended for those who appreciate fine art and Russian history when it opens this Wednesday (11/13) at Film Forum.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on November 11th, 2013 at 2:45pm.

The Iranian New Wave: LFM Reviews Tall Shadows of the Wind

From "Tall Shadows of the Wind."

By Joe Bendel. It could be world cinema’s most iconic scarecrow after The Wizard of Oz, but this severe figure definitely lacks a heart. Conceived as a protest against the Shah’s rule, it eerily foreshadowed the tragic disappointments of the Islamic Revolution, thereby earning it the distinction of being banned by both regimes. Fittingly, Bahman Farmanara’s Tall Shadows of the Wind screens next week during the Asia Society’s Iranian New Wave 1960’s-1970’s film retrospective.

Produced in 1979, the timing for Wind was profoundly unlucky. Right from the opening sequence, one can see how the new authorities would take issue with Farmanara’s heavily symbolic adaptation of Houshang Golshiri’s short story. A hardscrabble village has assembled in the fields to chant their prayers to their long awaited deliverer. It is a primal scene with a vaguely pagan character, feeling rather out of place in the Abrahamic tradition.

Clearly, life is desperately hard for the village, due to reasons only vaguely alluded to. A scarecrow has been erected in the fields, which should be a positive development. However, when Abdullah the bus driver draws the rough approximation of his own features on the straw man, it starts to exert a malevolent influence on the local populace. Anxiety and general feelings of dread run rampant through the hamlet, leading to some very real physical repercussions. As the indirect cause of it all, the somewhat eccentric Abdullah is further marginalized within the community. Yet, he remains the one member of the tight-knit group inclined to take action.

From "Tall Shadows of the Wind."

Even with Wind’s otherworldly vibe, the significance of a new progressive guardian bringing even greater misery is impossible to miss. Likewise, its pointed depiction of the nonconformist’s troubled place within society did not exactly fit the new government’s playbook, either. Causal relationships can get a little sketchy, but the mysterious uncertainty is part of what makes it so unsettling. Farmanara creates an impossibly hard to describe vibe, combining gritty naturalism and a feverish sense of supernatural oppression. Although Wind is a decidedly cerebral allegory, it could have easily been converted into a horror film with a handful of re-shoots and a different score.

Evidently finding a clean print of Wind is a bit of a challenge, but even in imperfect formats, Farmanara’s visuals are unusually powerful and loaded with meaning. A compelling fusion of the unreal and the too real, Tall Shadows of the Wind defies comparison to other films. Since it will be projected from a DVD, the Asia Society will not charge admission to Wind this coming Tuesday (11/12). Highly recommended regardless, Farmanara’s film has never been as widely screened as it deserves to be (especially in Iran), so any showing is an event to take advantage of.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on November 11th, 2013 at 2:38pm.