As for the details, I defer to the experts at the Grindhouse webpage:
Vigilante (1983) Robert Forster stars as a New York everyman, with a blue-collar job and a small family he loves. When his family is violently assaulted by street punks, he is shocked to find the police and court system useless and corrupt. His co-worker (Fred Williamson) is fed up with the gangs and drug dealers who have taken over the city, and starts a vigilante group to take care of what the police are too terrified to do. Forster is hesitant to join, until he's finally pushed over the edge, and starts down a road of vengeance. This is one of the greatest revenge films ever made, directed by William Lustig (Maniac) and inspired by Italian crime films and spaghetti westerns.
As a bonus, here's a 2010 AVManiacs/CineFiles interview w/ William Lustig:
Vigilante will
screen at the Hollywood Theatre for one night only: tonight (Feb. 28th) at 7:30pm.
Hey all--
Just to mix things up a bit, I thought it'd be fun to start a recurring series of posts highlighting short form films. Not really looking to analyze or review them...just intending for it to be a low-key curatorial sweep through some of my favorites from the past. And I'll probably end up finding some new favorites along the way, too.
As for style, format, etc., I'm not really planning on imposing any rules. Look for the avant-garde to rub shoulders with the strongly narrative or non-fiction to sit side-by-side with popular animation of the past.
Before we begin with the first installment, I wanted to give a quick shout-out to the visual arts blog Fuzzimo, whose free, hi-res 16mm film frame images post is the source material for the 1 Quick Fix image above. Yup, that's the name of the series: 1 Quick Fix. Hope you enjoy it.
I wanted to ease into things with a film that many of you have probably encountered before. Charles and Ray Eames' Powers of Ten.
I first saw the film in an elementary school science class (via a 16mm
film-strip version). The film's pondering of infinite space blew my
mind then and it still wows me to this day. Over time, it's become famous enough to have
been paid homage to in an intro segment for The Simpsons, practically the modern equivalent of canonization.
'Nuff said about it. Why don't we just take a look at the film? Here it is, from 1977, Charles & Ray Eames'Powers of Ten:
Anyone else exhausted from seeing (or working) so many of this year's screenings at the Portland International Film Festival? The festival officially came to a close last night (although you still have time to catch a few of today's encore screenings at the Whitsell Auditorium and Cinema 21) with, of all things, the PIFF After Dark presentation of Invasion of Alien Bikini.
With PDX' biggest fest behind us, now what? Of course, there's always tonight's Academy Awards telecast, which you could watch in the privacy of your own home or, if you're looking to make it more of a communal thing, catch over at the Hollywood Theater (got my fingers crossed for Mr. Malick and his film, although I'd be just as fine if they give it all to Woody).
But, if I were inclined to just ignore the Oscars (as I often do), the number one thing appearing on a local screen that I'd hit up is the Laurelhurst Theater's limited engagement of The African Queen. Bogie and Hepburn floating down the river under the direction of Humphrey's best drinkin' buddy John Huston (the duo were reportedly soused on gin for much of the production, "to keep the mosquitoes off)...what's not to love?
The African Queen will
screen for
the public at the Laurelhurst Theater today at 1pm & 6:40pm. It runs through Thurs. 3/1, all weekday screenings are at 6:40pm.
...and there's absolutely no reason that you can't pull for Demián Bichir as the long-shot for best actor while simultaneously getting your Bogie on, right?
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If there's any justice in this world, Bullhead will take home the trophy for best foreign language film next Sunday (although I suspect a much safer film will do so). Either way, go see this movie! Hit the link to see what I had to say about it a couple of weeks ago.
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Like it or not, 35mm projection is a dying form. The rumors of its death have been coming for years now as the digital revolution has rapidly gained ground, at first on film and television production sets, then, more recently, as the majority of theaters nationwide have added (or, in many cases, transitioned entirely to) digital projection for exhibition purposes.
Care for a more local example of this technological shift? One of the Regal Cinemas locations in Portland is abandoning 35mm exhibition forever this week; the last film (read: 35mm presentation) shown there will be a PIFF 35 screening.
But (with all this context building) I'm kind of spinning away from the event that I wanted to highlight: next week, local gem Cinema 21 is hosting what they're calling "a celebration of over a hundred years of celluloid bliss, before it disappears." What this translates to is a double-feature of Billy Wilder's 1944 noir classic Double Indemnity paired with Hammer Productions' 1969 technicolor horror flick Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed.
Tom Ranieri and the gang over at Cinema 21 are offering up their 35mm-centric, double-feature for two nights only, Wednesday, February 29th and Thursday, March 1st. What's more, admission is on them! Yeah, that's right, a FREE, classically-minded double billing at one of the best theaters in town. Be sure to thank them at their very reasonably priced concession stand. Maybe I'll see you in line?
The FREE double feature of Double Indemnity (@7pm) and Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed (@9:15) runs next Wednesday (2/29) and Thursday (3/1) at Cinema 21. Don't miss out!
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It didn't matter how tired I was after so many PIFF screenings. There was no way I was gonna miss out on Wim Wenders' appearance at Cinema 21 last week. The man is a personal hero of mine, his fluidity of process continually inspiring my own approach to creative work.
There's a unique flavor of narrative freedom saturated with resigned nostalgia present in the best of Wenders' work (Alice in the Cities, Lightning Over Water, Paris, Texas, and The American Friend, to name just a few). Even if you've only seen a couple of his movies, his style is unmistakable, though his path to getting there varies from project to project.
One of the New German Cinema pack (a name given by film journalists to a group of post-reconstruction era German auteurs of the time that also included Werner Herzog, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Hans-Jürgen Syberberg, etc.) that sprung into the limelight during the 1970s, Wenders, like Herzog,
is one of the few who grew into an international artist, working outside
of Germany regularly, spreading his European sensibilities beyond the borders of his homeland.
Presently, he's promoting his most recent film, Pina, the Oscar-nominated, 3D documentary that presents the work of the late choreographer/dance company director Pina Bausch. It's why he showed up in our small burg, introducing the film, as well as sticking around to answer a few questions from the audience after the 7pm screening.
Before the film, Wenders asked if anyone had ever been to a small village named Wuppertal, where the film is set. A couple of hoots from the audience either suggested that, yes, a few people had visited, or that the many beers being sold in the lobby were inspiring an agreeable conviviality bordering on benign deception; either way, it was clear that the audience was already in the palm of Wim's hand.
The film itself is a wonderful use of stereoscopic technology. Even more than Herzog's Cave of Forgotten Dreams, I can't imagine how reduced the experience would be by seeing the film in a two-dimensional presentation. It requires the illusion of defined 3D space to properly convey the dances that Pina and her company conceived together. Beyond that, it's a beautiful introduction to Pina's work, even to a dance neophyte such as myself.
Post-screening, Wim admitted that if Pina had not passed shortly before
shooting on the project began the film would have been an
entirely different picture. He said his original vision was to make a film about Pina's eyes, the way she saw, and how it influenced her work. After Bausch's death, the dancers convinced Wenders that there was still a film that could be made about Pina; one that still included the four numbers that Pina had wanted in the project.
On their own, those dance pieces were not enough to constitute a film and Wenders found himself in need of an appropriate solution for supplementing the material. He relied on the dance company's intimate knowledge of Pina's process to inform his own ability to add to the planned material, devising a film that included additional dances prompted by a complex series of (Pina's) questions answered by danced responses. Those additions, all filmed outside the studio, add a harmonizing playfulness that breathes much life into the film. Yet again, another example of Wenders' ability to work outside the box to great results.
If you'd like to hear Wenders speak more about the project, why not listen to the most recent edition of the NW Film Center's Adjust Your Tracking podcast, featuring Film Center staffer/journalist Erik McClanahan's phone conversation with him. Hit the link to tune in.
All photos are courtesy of Viva Las Vegas, who was lucky enough to be in the front row for Wenders' Q&A. Thanks again, Viva!
Also many thanks to both Cinema 21 and PIFF/NW Film Center for partnering to bring Wenders to PDX! A great night, folks.
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And here I thought I was going to be clever by comparing Béla Tarr's latest masterwork, The Turin Horse, to the 1993 Bill Murray vehicle, Groundhog Day. All it took was a quick Google search to dispel any notion that mine was an isolated observation. The comparison does hold quite well, though, as Tarr's picture places its characters, Ohlsdorfer (János Derzsi) and his daughter (Erika Bók) into a framework built upon daily repetition; one bleak, thankless task after the next, lather, rinse and repeat.
Where the two films diverge, however, is in intent; Tarr's story seems
focused on the social plight of those made to subsist on little food and only meager shelter, while unnamed
others have "acquired everything in a sneaky, underhanded fight." The unending storm raging outside Ohlsdorfer's cottage, paired with the repetition across the film's documentation of six days, traps the characters in this world, allowing for few options other than those that preserve them in a state barely resembling life.
The Turin Horse is some kind of horror show; one where base reality becomes the stuff of nightmares, a slow, creeping apocalyptic vision that indicts the day-to-day, hand-to-mouth existence of the majority. Tarr's affinities lie with Ohlsdorfer, his daughter and the titular
beast, whose own degraded state is reflective of the people in the film. Those not suffering under such conditions are kept out of view, hidden by the storm and ignored by the film, save a brief mention of having "debased everything."
This is reportedly Tarr's final work as a director. If this holds true, it's one hell of a way to end his career. Tarr and his regular crew of collaborators have crafted a slow-moving, elegiac farewell of such depth and substance that one wonders if they ever could have topped it.
The Turin Horse will
screen for
the public at Cinema 21 on Feb. 18th at 8:15pm and Feb. 21st at 7pm.
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