Yoni (Yoav Rotman) is like many kids about to turn thirteen. He's insecure about his physical appearance, unhappy with his home and school life, and bristling against socially mandated rites of passage. Just when it seems like he's got things under control: ingesting muscle building powders and doing pull-ups, selling completed homework to schoolmates, and buckling down to learn the passages from the Torah he's been assigned for his upcoming Bar Mitzvah, his brother, Torner (Michael Moshonov), long discarded by his parents to an institution for the developmentally disabled, returns home without warning.
Guy Nattiv's (Strangers) Mabul (The Flood) concerns itself with Yoni's journey as he struggles to deal with the changing dynamics of his family. Although still living together, his mother, Miri (Ronit Elkabetz), and father, Gidi (Tzahi Grad), are estranged, each one deeply disappointed with the other and the roles they've taken on (or abandoned) in life. Meanwhile, Yoni's black market homework scheme is going south and some of his more menacing customers decide that he needs to be dealt a lesson.
Mabul is a fine slice-of-life/coming-of-age drama that only deepens in scope as it unfolds. Yoni's progress is metered out in his advances and declines in authority over the Torah reading; the title of the film being a reference to the story of Noah. The film plays out as a chronicle of Yoni's awakening to self. And, as with most people, it's not an easy road for him to travel, requiring that he wrestle with himself, his family and the past.
Mabul (The Flood) opens the 20th Jewish Film Festival at the NW Film Center's Whitsell Auditorium (in the Portland Art
Museum) on Sun., April 15th at 7pm. More info about the festival available here.
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There's nothing more curious than a movie that attempts to be sexy, grabbing a fistful from the ol' bucket of taboos to toss up on the screen, but ends up missing that mark by a wide margin. Wife-swapping, deceit and supposedly hot sex before the ingestion of muddled cocktails are all on display in Antony Cordier's (Cold Showers) Four Lovers, a by-the-numbers drama about the damage done to the lives of two couples who decide to take a ride on the sexual swing (as in, to swing, darling).
Vincent (Nicolas Duvauchelle) and Rachel (Marina Foïs) find themselves thrust together as a result of a work relationship. Shortly thereafter, they have a couples dinner with their significant others, Teri (Élodie Bouchez) and Franck (Roschdy Zem). And, before you can say wham-bam, thank you ma'am, Teri and Franck are off to the races, stealing kisses while Vincent and Rachel are in the other room, setting the stage for the couples to exchange lovers for a season of sexual adventures.
Much of what follows comes off like b-grade Cinemax fare captured on film in a manner that visually exceeds the limp drama at play. Unfortunately, Cordier doesn't seem all that interested in fleshing out these characters beyond the basic mechanics that lead to their arrangement, most of what we glean about the characters comes from ennui-stricken narration spoken aloud by Rachel. Because they're underwritten as characters, Vincent, Teri, Rachel and Franck resemble nothing more than an avenue to explore scintillating notions, rather than a group of people who invite risk into their relationships for reasons of personal desire and sexual expansion.
Regrettably, the sheer practicality of their arrangement cuts much of the sizzle out of the onscreen acrobatics. There's little danger expressed here; even the jealousies and revelations of duplicity that develop in the last half of the film can't fully redeem the picture. You want a little steam with your cinema? You'd be better off looking for a film that's a little less stale; the maneuvers being explored in Four Lovers are well past their sell-by-date.
Four Lovers begins its run at the Living Room Theaters on Fri., April 13th. More info available here.
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Stella Liebeck was a 79-year old woman whose unfortunate interaction with a cup of scalding hot (180-degree) McDonalds coffee in 1992 catapulted her to national attention. Suffering third-degree burns, Liebeck sued the corporation and won. To many, her lawsuit was the epitome of the types of frivolous lawsuits reportedly clogging our nation's courtrooms. Hot Coffee is a non-fiction exploration of how such public conclusions were manufactured by corporations via their political lobbying power and the ramifications behind this mass swaying of public opinion and, subsequently, judicial policy.
Director Susan Saladoff uses Liebeck's case as a jumping off point to examine tort reform, non-economic damages caps, mandatory arbitration and other limits placed upon victims seeking justice. Her film argues that such recent changes, adopted over just a few decades time, move the power of our nation's justice system out of the hands of juries, improperly stacking the deck in favor of business interests.
In aid of this thesis, Saladoff offers up a series of real life examples of people whose lives have been forever negatively impacted by their inability to gain justice via the courts. She interviews a couple from Nebraska whose son suffered brain damage at birth due to medical malpractice. Because of artificial caps on damages in their home state, the compensation awarded them by a jury in a malpractice suit was severely reduced, putting the burden for their son's care on the taxpayers and putting his future into question.
Hot Coffee also presents the travails of one Jamie Leigh Jones, a former employee of KBR who was gang-raped and imprisoned by several of her co-workers while stationed in Bagdad. Due to a binding mandatory arbitration clause in her employment contract, she's legally restricted from having her case heard in a court of law. The film follows Jones as she enlists Senator Al Franken's aid in seeking legal retribution against those who wronged her.
Hot Coffee demonstrates the slow but sure rewiring of our legal system to represent corporations, protecting them from liability claims by those that are harmed by their business practices. It's an incredibly grim piece that reveals a concerted effort by lawmakers, business leaders and lobbying groups in aid of that goal.
Perhaps the film's best conveyance of how the wool was pulled over the public's eyes: an interview subject relays the story of a man who was awarded damages by a jury of his peers, only to have the award significantly adjusted down due to non-economic damages caps that he helped vote into law. His reaction: the legislation being voted upon was for "those frivolous lawsuits," not for his case.
Hot Coffee plays at the Hollywood
Theatre on Thursday, April 12th at 7:30pm, Saturday, April 14th at 3pm, and Thursday, April 26th at 7pm. Susan Saladoff will be in attendance
for the April 12th and 14th screenings. More info here.
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For some, poker is a metaphor for life, embodying all the excitement, tension and danger that can be found in the real world. Those who read the game as such will likely be entertained by All In: The Poker Movie, a documentary that locates its purpose in detailing the rise and fall of the worldwide poker boom of the past few decades.
If, like me, you're unable to even recall the last time you've sat down for a hand of cards, much less watched an entire tournament on television, you might enjoy some of All In but, after a while, as the film shifts to something resembling political advocacy, there's not a lot left to cling onto for the casual viewer. To be clear, All In is a film made for poker obsessives by poker obsessives.
Which isn't to say that there aren't some interesting anecdotes on display in All In. Among them: the tale of early world champion Thomas "Amarillo Slim" Preston, the extreme love that poker insiders hold for John Dahl's 1998 film Rounders (Dahl, star Matt Damon and screenwriter Brian Koppelman are interviewed), and the remarkable 2003 rise of Chris Moneymaker from online gambler to world champion.
Director Douglas Tirola makes a strong case for why we should care about those individual threads, each based in the lives of people and what inspires them. But a less convincing argument is forged when discussing the government clampdown on online poker, aligning the suppression of a lucrative industry with restrictions on personal freedom; it's a line of reasoning that comes off as a bit of a stretch, especially in light of Tirola's decision to not sugarcoat the addictive nature and risks of the recreational sport being profiled.
All in all, this is a documentary for a specialized audience made up almost entirely of poker enthusiasts. It's a film that works best when dealing with the history of the game and investigating the lives of its individual subjects. Whenever it strays from that path, it sheds much of its accessibility for the average viewer, preaching to the choir and losing the congregation in the process.
All In: The Poker Movie plays through Thurs., April 12th at the Clinton Street Theater. More info available here.
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What once was lost is now found: this coming Thursday night, the NW Film Center hosts the 2010 restored edition of Fritz Lang's epic sci-fi classic Metropolis. Yes, this is the version containing the missing sequences discovered at the Museo del Cine in Buenos Aires. What's more, the Film Center's program will feature a live accompaniment by the world famous (at least to rabid silent film buffs) music collective the Alloy Orchestra, who have modified their 1991 score for Lang's futurist tale to accommodate its newly extended running time.
At nearly 2 1/2 hours, this version of Metropolis comes about as close to the original 1927 release as we're likely to see in our lifetime. For those interested in the various versions and restoration efforts over the years, there's a concise timeline available here.
While the silent film event of the year was undoubtably last month's limited run of Abel Gance's Napoleon
in Oakland, Thursday's event is likely to be
the best that Portland has on offer in 2012. Tickets will likely be
sold out before Thursday night; they can be purchased here.
Metropolis with live musical score by the Alloy Orchestra plays one night only at the NW Film Center's Whitsell Auditorium (in the Portland Art
Museum) on Thurs., April 12th at 7pm.
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Morgan Spurlock
isn't the first name that comes to mind when discussing filmmakers
that resist self-promotion. In part, it's due to his coming along at a
time when becoming the subject (or inserting yourself into the subject)
of your film isn't frowned upon anymore. Think of Spurlock, who always appears on camera in his films, as the
logical outgrowth of the Michael Moore and Ross McElwee school of film; a modern, popular subgenre of documentary film driven by the personality of the individual who wears the director's cap.
Sometimes, his results have been great (for instance, Super Size Meor most episodes of his sorely missed television show 30 Days).
Other times, it's been difficult to come to grips with Spurlock's
thesis due to his presence before the camera overwhelming the impact of
the subject he's broaching (never more true than in his segment of Freakonomics), even when the proceedings have been entertaining enough.
Shockingly, in his latest work, Comic-Con Episode IV: A Fan's Hope, Spurlock simply vanishes, neither he nor his voice are featured anywhere in the film. It's a completely unexpected left turn from the director, after some eight years of basically applying the same technique to every project, liberating the proceedings and allowing for the most mature work of his career to emerge.
As the title indicates, Comic-Con Episode IV is about the world's biggest annual nerd convention, some 40+ years into its existence; a place where comic book fans can mingle with action figure collectors, film and tv geeks and hot women dressed as Wonder Woman or other fantasy based characters (the film actually features a moment involving a "slave-trader" who deals exclusively in women dressed as Princess Leia).
Spurlock wisely chooses to document the event through a small number of characters attending the convention. Among them, he's got two wanna-be comic book artists who head to San Diego to undergo portfolio reviews with the many publishers who set up booths there. There's also a costume designer whose team has brought the characters from the video game Mass Effect to life in the hopes of having their talents discovered. And, perhaps most endearingly, there's the nerdy young dude who spends much of the film orchestrating a marriage proposal to his equally geeky girl during a Kevin Smith q&a.
Additionally, there are interviews and appearances by more famous folk, such as Joss Whedon, Stan Lee, Eli Roth, etc.
Yes, it's hard to swallow the use of the word "mature" to describe a film about toy collectors and fantasy-lovin' folk. But, seriously, Comic-Con is a huge step forward in Spurlock's overall trajectory as a filmmaker. Plus, it's REALLY entertaining and often quite heartwarming in its depiction of the passion that lies at the heart of fan culture.
Comic-Con Episode IV: A Fan's Hope opens at the Hollywood
Theatre on Friday, April 6th. Morgan Spurlock will be in attendance
for the Saturday, April 7th show at 7:15pm. More info here.
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There's a near absolute adherence to truth in advertising embedded in the title of Corrina Belz' new documentary, Gerhard Richter Painting. It's a film almost entirely based in the observation of craft. Belz' camera watches quietly and without emotion as the German master works his way through multiple applications and reapplications of color and texture, smeared and scraped across several massive canvases. Those who work and live around the artist: his wife, gallerist and the odd friend or two from the past, appear briefly, temporarily interrupting his efforts, but the focus here is on Richter's communion with the works in progress as he dramatically morphs them over and over again, searching for an image that is neither preconceived nor, as he puts it, entirely unplanned.
At first, the filmmaking feels dispassionate, distant and without clear focus, soliciting a nervous discomfort when engaging with it. But after a short while, it becomes clear that the approach mirrors Richter's own process, gaining clarity as it progresses. As an interviewer, Belz pushes the painter to express that which he guards closely, moving into exchanges that feel psychoanalytical at times. And the film excels in those moments when Richter loses his composure, like when he expresses doubt in the choices he's made on a particular canvas or while visiting the past through the display of old family photos. Also quite revealing is the sight of the painter standing amongst his fans at the opening of a gallery retrospective of his portraiture; he bears the look of an animal searching for an escape from danger.
Richter's most at home in his studio, battling it out with the abstractions that he produces. It's a tense thing to watch as Belz focuses the audience's attention on the painter's process of discovery. Often times, we glimpse the appearance of forward momentum in a piece, only to watch helplessly as Richter smears another layer over the image with one of his large squeegees. Yet, one has to allow Richter to be Richter in the end; after all, it's his struggle that is being fought here, not ours.
Gerhard Richter Painting plays at the NW Film Center's Whitsell Auditorium (in the Portland Art
Museum) on Fri., April 6th at 7pm and Sat., April 7th at 4:30pm and 7pm.
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