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By Joe Bendel. Don’t call the Ellington Orchestra a ghost band. At least it wasn’t in the early 1980’s. The maestro would still recognize most of the members, especially the leader, his son Mercer. Though the Ellington patriarch had gone off to the great bandstand in the sky, the family business was still going strong, thanks to a Broadway show featuring Ellington’s most popular songs and the band, under Mercer’s direction. More of a revue than a musical per se, Sophisticated Ladies ran for 767 performances at the Lunt-Fontanne. Captured live, in performance in 1982, Ellington’s Sophisticated Ladies makes its big screen debut in all its restored and re-mastered glory, courtesy of SpectiCast, beginning today at participating theaters.

If there is one theater Sophisticated Ladies tries to evoke, it is the Cotton Club. Our first clue is probably the big neon sign hanging from the back of the stage that says, “Cotton Club.” However, the production conceived by choreographer Donald McKayle and directed for the stage by Michael Smuin is not pedantically faithful to the era or venue. Ellington’s final theme song, “Satin Girl,” duly finds its way into the program. Also conspicuously anachronistic is the multiracial company of hoofers who dance to Ellington’s classics together, which would have been a major no-no during the Cotton Club’s heyday—so some things really aren’t how they used to be.

On the other hand, the immortal appeal of Ellington’s swinging standards comes through loud and clear. Ladies actually starts with the “Sophisticated Gentlemen” performing a relatively minor piece of Ellingtonia, “I’ve Got to be a Rug Cutter,” but it sure is a handy vehicle for some tap pyrotechnics. Likewise, “Music is a Woman” has never been excessively covered, but it is a nice up-tempo introduction for Paula Kelly, who looks terrific in flapper fashions (some might also recognize her, or perhaps not, from her trailblazing appearance in Playboy).

In a related development, one of the Ladies’ few missteps is a Josephine Baker-esque “jungle” style rendition of “The Mooche” that is probably quite true to the show’s Cotton Club roots, but has not aged well. The band still sounds great on it, though. Terri Klausner then commences torching up the old chestnut “Hit Me with a Hot Note and Watch Me Bounce” something impressively fierce. Kelly, two gentleman admirers, and a red piano keep the sassiness cranked up to the max with a “Love You Madly/Perdido” medley. It is elegant, but also pretty darn hot.

Phyllis Hyman starts “It Don’t Mean a Thing” in an unusally diva-ish bag, but it segues into show-stopping tap showcase for the gents. The video crew really shines during these big dance numbers. Clearly, multiple cameras were involved, mostly captured the company in full Astaires, with a few close-ups of their flying feet thrown in for good measure. The jitterbuggers take over during “Cotton Tail” and they don’t skimp on the air-steps. The rendition of “Solitude” is a bit miasmic for jazz tastes, but Kelly cranks the energy level back up with a duet-medley of “Don’t Get Around Much/I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart.” Unfortunately, a killer “Drop Me Off in Harlem” is slightly marred by a dated Chinese caricature.

For hardcore Duke fans, “Diminuedo in Blue” leads into the intermission, but without the “Crescendo,” probably because nobody would want to try to replicate Paul Gonsalves’ epic solo. Oddly, there is nothing representing the Sacred Concerts, which seems like a lost opportunity, but so be it. Considered the star, Hyman specializes in ballads like “In a Sentimental Mood” that are all very nice, but Kelly steals the show out from under her with saucy twists on favorites like “I’m Beginning to See the Light.” There is also good reason why she is the featured dancer for the pseudo title song, “Sophisticated Lady.”

The choreography of McKayle and Smuin (with a tap assist from Henry LeTang) translates well to the screen. In fact, the dance sequences are distinguished by an exuberance that remains fresh and appealing thirty-some years later. The cats in the band sound great too, but they are mostly stuck behind a gauzy curtain for most of the show (at one point future Lincoln Center mainstay Joe Temperley can be positively id’ed, but few others get even fleeting face time). The current Broadway production After Midnight does a better job in this respect, featuring the Jazz @ Lincoln Center affiliated band clearly on-stage, even giving them their own front-and-center number. It is a great show, but if you cannot make it to New York, there is considerable crossover between the two productions’ choice of tunes, so keep an eye out for Ladies.

Indeed, there is both timelessness and nostalgia to be found in Sophisticated Ladies. Most of Ellington’s songs sound as vital today as they did in the 1930’s and a few outliers are nicely rehabilitated by the Sophisticated Ladies and Gentlemen. Yet, when the camera pans the audience, we see folks dressed to the nines for Broadway. The men are wearing suits at the least, with a fair smattering of tuxedoes out there. Those days are gone, but the music swings like it always did. Highly recommended for fans of Ellington and Broadway, Sophisticated Ladies will have limited screenings in select theaters nationwide, beginning December 4th until the 18th, depending on the schedules of participating locations—including today (12/4) at the Chelsea Cinemas in New York.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on December 4th, 2013 at 3:29pm.

Anima State from Anima State on Vimeo.

By Joe Bendel. Life is cheap in Pakistan. Toting a gun will not raise any eyebrows, but a camera will quickly attract suspicion. This grimly ironic reality provided the initial germ of inspiration for Hammad Khan’s defiantly outraged Anima State, which will have its world premiere at the 2013 South Asian International Film Festival.

His face is bandaged like the Invisible Man. Do not bother asking the Stranger’s name or backstory. What matters is that he is angry and armed. He is about to embark on a killing spree, but it will not raise much of a fuss. Unsatisfied with his mounting body count, he resolves to commit suicide if he can find a large enough audience. An anchor for a nakedly propagandistic news network is happy to oblige. However, the ostensive journalist’s leading questions about America, Britain, and India are not taking the opening interview where the Stranger wants it to go.

Perhaps none of that really happened. Maybe the Stranger was really the product of an unnamed filmmaker’s subconscious. While the cops were content to let his armed-and-dangerous alter ego walk about freely, they instinctively clamp down on someone apparently engaged in either art or journalism.

If you see an angrier film than Anima State this year, it certainly was not because Khan lacked conviction. Time and again, he calls out contemporary Pakistani culture for normalizing violence and misogyny. Frankly, the film inspires real world concerns, particularly for Malika Zafar, the bold actress playing the “Archetypes of Woman,” including a battered wife and a prostitute, whose sexual confidence causes the Stranger no end of angst.

There is no getting around Anima’s ragged edges, but there is power in its grunginess. Produced with the revenue generated by Khan’s relatively apolitical Slackistan (which was banned in Pakistan nonetheless), Anima represents independent filmmaking at its most independent. Khan has a lot to say about the nexus between the government and the media and how they scapegoat YouTube videos and the like. He clearly admonishes Pakistan to look inside rather than outside for the source of its woes, which is never a well received message.

The mere fact that Khan successfully followed through on the concept of Anima is a tribute to him and his cast and crew. If at times it is a bit confusing or overindulges in the surrealist vibe, then so be it. A bracing indictment of institutionalized intolerance, Anima State is a must-see for anyone concerned about the future of cinema in Pakistan and the wider Islamic world. Recommended for those who can handle its rough aesthetic and truth-telling essence, it premieres this Wednesday (12/4) at the SVA Theatre as part of this year’s SAIFF.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on December 4th, 2013 at 3:24pm.

By Joe Bendel. The whole honesty thing does not seem to be working out for an Australian veteran driving cross country for a job interview. He tries to do the right thing with the briefcase full of cash he finds at the site of an accident, but the local cop is a bit on the dodgy side. It turns out he has issues, largely revolving around his wife Jina in Craig Lahiff’s Swerve, which opens this Friday in New York.

Jina will walk away from the crash unscathed, but the other party will be leaving feet first. Considering he had just pulled off his own murder-double cross, karma certainly came back around for the drug dealer quickly. However, it is a safe bet someone will come looking for the case of dirty money Colin, the innocent bystander, turns over to Frank, the local law, after driving the strangely composed Jina home. As a fellow veteran, Frank insists on putting Colin up at his place, which leads to the awkward realization that Jina is the copper’s wife.

Needless to say, it is not a happy marriage. Both husband and wife appear to be hatching schemes against each other that will start to involve the stash of cash in Frank’s jail cell. Colin will try to avoid getting entangled in their drama – but yeah right, good luck with that.

Anyone who has seen Body Heat or The Postman Always Rings Twice will have a pretty good idea what twists and turns lay ahead, except Lahiff’s screenplay is relatively demur by the standards of sexually charged thrillers. In fact, it is a modest film in many ways, seemingly mindful it has not reinvented any cinematic conventions. Yet, its thriller mechanics are pretty solid and all three sides of the central noir triangle have above average presence.

While the entire cast (even the smaller supporting figures) is well known in Australia, Jason Clarke will be the most recognizable to American audiences from Zero Dark Thirty. He does the swaggering small town crooked cop well, playing his problematic nature more in terms of erratic recklessness than outright evil. Emma Booth looks more like a girl next door than a femme fatale, but she vamps it up in style. Rounding out the trio, David Lyons makes a reasonably credible everyman and a refreshingly sympathetic on-screen portrayal of an Iraq War veteran (even if Clarke’s Frank is considerably less so).

As if in observance of film noir tradition, Swerve culminates on a night train headed out of town. Trains might not automatically come to mind when you think of Australia, but they have them. It’s a big country, after all. Regardless, Lahiff hits all of the chamber thriller bases, usually with a fair degree of authority. Swerve is the sort of film most viewers will say is “pretty good,” which is not bad at all, considering the rubbish that gets released. It could well have been acquired with the home viewing market in mind, which is exactly where it should have a long and prosperous life. Recommended accordingly (particularly for those who follow Australian cinema), Swerve opens this Friday (12/6) in New York at the AMC Loews Village 7.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on December 4th, 2013 at 3:21pm.

By Joe Bendel. It is the age of the internet troll. Abetted by the tabloid press, anonymous malcontents offer a steady stream of bullying invective aimed at impulsively chosen targets. In this case, the locale is central China, but it could happen here, too. One woman is tragically ensnared in a joint new media-old/media feeding frenzy at the start of Chen Kaige’s of-the-moment contemporary drama Caught in the Web, which opened this week in New York.

During a routine check-up, Ye Lanqiu receives some devastating news: advanced lymphatic cancer, requiring immediate treatment she cannot afford. Dazed, she returns to work on the bus, not noticing the old man coveting her seat. When he complains, she tells him where to get off. Unfortunately, it was all captured on the smart-phone of Yang Jiaqi, who is interning at a television station with her cousin’s ambitious girlfriend, Chen Ruoxi. By the end of the day, Chen will make Ye notorious as “Sunglasses Girl.”

However, Ye’s problems are only getting starting. Seeking a loan and an emergency leave from her industrialist boss, Shen Liushu, Ye breaks down before she can fully explain her dire circumstances. At the worst possible moment, Shen’s high maintenance wife Mo Xiaoyu walks in on them, naturally misconstruing the intimate scene. As Ye becomes a public pariah, Mo pours gasoline on the fire, antagonizing her husband and jeopardizing his big deal with an American firm. While Shen and Mo wage their cold war and Chen bottom feeds, Ye goes into hiding, hiring her nemesis’s increasingly disillusioned boyfriend Yang Shoucheng as her bodyguard.

Whew, end of set-up. From there things get complicated. Chen and his co-screenwriter Tang Danian have scripted the closest thing to a Chinese Tom Wolfe story you will find, chocked to the brim with intertwined characters and loads of zeitgeisty angst. At times, they flirt dangerously with shameless melodrama, but the quiet dignity of Gao Yuanyuan’s lead performance saves their bacon every time. It is a reserved, but deeply tragic turn, nicely matched by the restraint of the Taiwanese-Canadian Mark Chao as her reluctant protector, Yang Shoucheng.

In contrast, Chen’s frequent collaborator Wang Xuegi and his actress-producer-wife Chen Hong produce some spectacular fireworks as the crafty old Shen and his impulsive wife. Perhaps fittingly, Chen Ruoxi is played by Yao Chen, who holds the distinction of having the most followers on China’s micro-blogging service, Sina Weibo. She has also “Weiboed” on behalf of journalists challenging official state censorship, which makes her massively cool as well as popular. She really digs into the character, portraying both her ruthless ambition and her deep-seated insecurities. It is award caliber work that truly makes the film.

Cinematographer Yang Shu (an alumnus of Chen’s Sacrifice) gives it a slick, austere polish that well suits the in-the-know class conscious morality tale. It is a relatively rare contemporary piece from Chen Kaige, but he adroitly manages the large ensemble and keeps the complex proceedings moving along at a healthy clip. Thanks to Yao and Gao, Caught has real dramatic force, as well as a real message. As long as the media focuses on the next “Sunglasses Girl,” they will ignore more inconvenient stories for the powers that be. (That applies beyond China too—just compare the coverage granted the Kardashians to analysis warning of the millions of individual insurance policies that will be canceled under Obamacare.) Highly recommended both for fans of Chinese films and those who appreciate shrewdly observed social cinema, Caught in the Web opens today (11/27) in New York at the Village East.

LFM GRADE: A-

Posted on November 29th, 2013 at 8:53pm.

By Joe Bendel. Redneck bullies never learn. If a trouble-making martial arts hardnose says he’s “just passing through,” you’ll never run him off with the typical strong-arm stuff. Instead, tell him to consider settling down. Needless to say, reverse psychology is not the style of the thuggish proprietor of the local Double Death Dojo. Get ready to rumble Roadhouse style with the DVD release of Bob Clark’s animated feature, Shotokan Man (a.k.a. Dixie Dynamite), now available from FilmWorks Entertainment.

Wandering the Earth in search of his absconded American serviceman father has taken the taciturn Dirk to many small towns, but never anywhere quite like Westabooga, Alabama. Thanks to the influence of the Nipponophile Sheriff Fuquay, Westabooga has largely adopted Japanese cuisine and culture, but their necks are still pretty red. The Japanese raised Amerasian drifter does not feel as comfortable as you might expect, though. He has issues with his Japanese heritage, particularly his experiences with his missing father’s dojo.

His Zen-like approach to life and martial arts is quite attractive to single mother Rose Stewart, the owner of the Westabooga Sushi Café and on-again-off-again girlfriend of Dewey, Jr., the narcoleptic sheriff’s entitled son and the leader of the Double Death. It logically follows that Dirk is in for a massive beat down at the hands of Dewey’s students, but the backcountry Possum Master will help him recharge his karma, giving the spiritual conventions of kung fu movies a sly, chicken fried twist.

Any film that uses the word didgeridoo more than three times earns points for something. It is Dirk’s instrument of choice and also sometimes a handy club. We do not hear much of it played throughout the film, but there is a nifty arrangement of “Free Bird” featuring shamisen and electric bass. The combination of greasy grits-and-gravy southern living married to higher forms of Japanese art and philosophy ought to produce some outrageous gags, but Shotokan never escalates beyond the level of pleasantly amusing. There is a respect for both traditions, but not a lot of transcendent inspiration.

Still, voice actor George Faughnan has a way of delivering Dirk’s limited dialogue that maximizes the comedic effect. The renderings of Stewart and her waitress Tula Mae should also appeal to junior high school boys, bringing to mind the ladies of Twin Peaks’ Double R Diner for older hipsters.

Frankly, Clark (not to be confused with the Bob Clark who directed A Christmas Story and Porky’s) and co-writer-associate producer Mimi Gentry are surprisingly forgiving in their portrayal of 1979 Alabama. They eschew cheap shots and score settling, only resorting to cliché with the loutish but unremarkable villain, Dewey, Jr. Genre fans raised on a steady diet of Billy Jack movies will find it agreeable but not essential viewing. Of course, all the kids are caught up in Shotokan Man fever these days, making it a hot Christmas item. Recommended for mild chuckles as a stocking stuffer, Shotokan Man is now available on DVD from FilmWorks Entertainment.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on November 29th, 2013 at 8:50pm.