The Sky is Falling, but where will it hit?

I'm reading "Yes, the Sky Really is Falling," the speech Mark Gill gave to the LAFF almost a week ago. In it, he discusses the very real approach of a heavy death-toll in the indie film community. The film-making community in general, perhaps, but especially the indies. I agree with a lot of what he says, but of course like anyone of firm opinion, I also disagree with some of his points.

One particular thing that he says is, "the digital revolution is here, and boy does it suck." Well, I disagree with you, Mark. Here's the thing: the digital revolution is a DEMOCRATIZING process (which Mark points out). What this means is, thus, everyone gets a turn. The problem isn't that the revolution sucks, it's that it points out how much more sucky material there is wanting to be, or being, made. It's highlighting all the stupid and uninventive people. Those people have always existed, it just didn't used to be that easy for them to make movies, and to submit those movies to film festivals. That's why Sundance sucked.

The problem here, I think, is that we need a new form of filtering. YouTube, bless it's feeble, racist, childish heart, has a great model for this: number of views, star rating, and viral sharing. People are really, REALLY good at only watching good stuff on YouTube, because a lot of the parsing has already been done. And then they just open up the blog they read, or their e-mail inbox, and the best stuff is right there waiting for them. Maybe the rules and the JUDGING need to be a little more stringent at Sundance. Or maybe it needs to be a more democratic decision who gets IN. Why not push forward the submission deadline, then let everyone who submitted (hell, maybe set up a membership process where any members can do it) vote on what films get in. Yeah, they'll vote for their film, but they'll also vote for the other films they actually LIKE.

OK, maybe it's a bad idea, because maybe people won't want to sit through films twice. Maybe they will. The point is that we need a new model all across the board as the digital revolution pokes its slobbery head out. We're seeing this necessity not just in the film festivals, but everywhere: the big movies, the music industry, computer software, everyone is feeling the crunch. Because when all this stuff is available for free, you can criminalize it all you want, but it's still going to be free and people love free stuff. So, the RIAA and MPAA and all the record labels and software companies need a new business model, a new plan to make a profit off of ALLOWING their digital stuff to be free. I will return to my old argument, if you have something infinitely reproduceable for FREE, then you don't have a commodity, and there is no such thing as supply and demand anymore.

Likewise, if anyone can pick up a video camera and get a free copy of iMovie, or hell, even a free copy of Final Cut Studio for crissakes, then you need a NEW PLAN for how you figure out who's making good stuff.

Also, Gill says: "if you decide to make a movie budgeted under $10 million on your own tomorrow, you have a 99.9% chance of failure."

Well, I'll go back to what I said before. The money trail ran out, folks. Wall Street stopped paying Hollywood, and the 14-year-old next door with the dreams of "porno and Grand Theft Auto" can see any movie he damn well pleases for zero cash, just the cost of his Mom buying FiOS.

Gill says, and I firmly agree, that there is basically no money to be made in movie making anymore, except for people on the very top tier of the ladder (and these people, he says, will continue to see a profit). Or at least for right now.

He then argues that what needs to happen is all the bad movies and bad movie-makers will suffocate each other. There will be a drastic decrease in production, and in the amount that those in production will make. But there will ALWAYS be a movie-going community, as there will always be a movie-making community. What will simply happen is we will revert to the way it used to be, where only the good stuff got through.

Now, a lot of times the arguments that I made before come off sounding as socialistic when I start spouting off about them. And to fair degree, I have a socialist streak in me. However, here's something to ponder: The Canadian Government has financial support specifically for filmmakers. The American Government does not. The American Government doesn't really give much money to anything. Except the Army and Other Countries. But, if the socio-economic infrastructure of entertainment consumption shifts largely to a free method of distribution(this excludes cinema-going and concert attendance, which will continue because people love to see stuff BIG), then I believe there will [have to] be government subsidies for the creation of this kind of art. Realizing the necessity for this consumption, and hopefully a shift away from funding international conflict, will result in government sponsorship, essentially, of the arts. What happens is that people end up paying circularly, as we always have, but through a larger circle. Rather than paying the distributors directly for the product, we will be paying the government, who will pay the filmmakers, who will create, and who will distribute their work to the public for free, who will consume it and end up paying back to the government. We do this all the time. It's called taxes.

Ultimately, this concept of a bottom line is where people are getting tripped up, and it's the reason for a lot of my disagreements with other things Gill has to say (in a speech that I think is absolutely fantastic, spot-on, and necessary to read). While I agree that films should be globally watchable and appreciable, should be memorable, and should be somehow provocative, I think that likewise films can and should be specific to a generation, or to a place, and should take their time. They do not need to be explosive, or easily condensible other than into cliché phrases like "meditative" that automatically, and immediately, result in the loss of the message. Human experience will always be exactly that. And because of that, it is possible for it to transcend all borders. It's why we watch Soviet cinema, or films from the 3rd world. There is always a story to be told. The bottom line, which I think is also Mr. Gill's bottom line, is that we should simply strive for greatness. Get great performances from actors. Make images that are beautiful, not necessarily because they're perfectly lit for 35mm, but because the framing is good, or because we're looking at something important, or because we're being forced to NOT look at something that we want to see, and we ask "Why?" You can make a beautiful movie on a cellphone, and that challenge is STILL being posed to anyone (take a hike, Spike Lee). If we strive to make good cinema (and we will never know what "good" is until we see it), we will have fulfilled our duty. It is now our responsibility to determine how to find the good work being made, reward its makers, and provide the means for them to continue to do so, however that may be.

Mumblecore I

I've been starting to immerse myself in the world of "mumblecore," a contemporary American film movement fronted by, among others, Andrew Bujalski, the Duplass brothers, and Joe Swanberg, and I have to say, I'm rather elated by it.

Now, not every moment of this stuff is great. In fact, sometimes it's hard to watch. But it's only because it reminds me so much of myself - my own boredom, my own anxieties and lack of direction. It is the stuff of my life. In particular, tonight I watched Mutual Appreciation, and when the credits came on, I had a huge grin on my face.

Bujalski, himself a rather awkward fellow (or at least he plays one in this and Funny Ha Ha, the other of his I've seen), somehow manages to have an extraordinary knack for dialog. The most impressive part of all is that this dialog, for all its natural presentation and realistic flow, is largely scripted. This is a phenomenal feat in and of itself. Throw in the fact that he uses non-actors (Justin Rice is the lead singer of Brooklyn band Bishop Allen, Bill Morrison is the experimental filmmaker behind the awesomely gorgeous Decasia, and others) and his films are an absolute wonder.

Mutual Appreciation manages to tap into the real conflicts of day-to-day life without the fanfare that often accompanies the popularized indie flick. No one is crying, there are no grand gestures. Everything is very well-contained within the canon of realistic poses. These performances seem so vividly real, and so easy to relate to, that you almost hate Bujalski for making these people so real. And at the end of the film, you don't even realize you've been taken for a ride. Like life, the thing seems to simply be one big plateau. But then you realize you've developed attachments, and you have your own motives, your own desires for the future of the characters and their relationships.

One thing that makes Mutual Appreciation really exciting is its lo-fi, but 16mm, picture. This truly embodies the Cassavettes style, and makes Bujalski most worthy of the mumblecore syno-moniker "Slackavettes." What I found so hard to relate to in Cassavettes, though, somehow becomes my raison d'etre in Bujalski - people talking. Obviously the talking heads approach is not a new one, nor is it specific to these kinds of film movements. The mumblecore predecessors, like Richard Linklater, have mastered this talent as well. But somehow, the awkward charm in Andrew Bujalski's films, embedded in a real desire to portray the culture of which I am a part, is something truly magical. And at the end of both of his films that I've seen thus far, I have laughed. Not because of the moment, but because of my moment after the last moment. His films are, in short, endearing.

As I say, I've been on quite the kick. So far, of the "mumblecore" movement, I've seen:

The Puffy Chair - The Duplass Brothers
Funny Ha Ha - Andrew Bujalski
Mutual Appreciation - Andrew Bujalski
Kissing on the Mouth - Joe Swanberg
Young American Bodies - an internet series by Joe Swanberg

And, as a bonus for me, I'll tell you that you can see me in a single frame of the Bishop Allen music video for Click Click Click Click, which they shot just outside my apartment here in Williamsburg. I'm at the 1:44 mark in the white t-shirt, trimmed beard and hair. Woot!

Mister Lonely. Seen it!

Well, I finally got myself out to see Mister Lonely this evening at the IFC Center. Even after seeing Harmony Korine talk about the movie, and watching clips and the trailer, I still had no idea what to expect with this thing. One descriptor I've read about this film is "dream-like." And while that word gets thrown around a lot, I also think that it's incredibly useful here.

Two separate parallel narratives are the subject matter of the film - in one, Werner Herzog plays a priest living in a small village in Panama, and while doing a food-drop with a few of his nuns, one of the nuns inadvertently falls out of the plane. As she falls, she prays to God for the ability to not fall, but fly. Or, at least, land unharmed. Miraculously, she indeed lands unharmed. The other narrative focuses on a Michael Jackson impersonator (Diego Luna), who indeed goes by the name Michael, living in Paris. He befriends a Marilyn Monroe impersonator (Samantha Morton), who takes him to a commune of impersonators that includes the likes of Abe Lincoln, the Pope, and Marilyn's husband Charlie Chaplain and their daughter Shirley Temple (to name a few).

First, the performances. For me, the best performance comes from Samantha Morton. With the exception of her first few moments, every word out of her mouth rings brazenly true. Her emotion is raw, and she feels nothing short of consistently present. She packed the most emotional punch for me as a viewer. However, no one really put in a "bad" performance. Some of them were a bit two-dimensional, but everyone was very certain of his or her character. Everyone was in it to win it, and that definitely includes Werner Herzog. My only complaint about Herzog's performance is that by the end it feels a bit like he is parodying his own character, not taking the role seriously.

As for the film itself: I swung very wildly during this one. On the one hand, there are some moments so pure and gorgeous (if occasionally painful or heavy) that they are poster-children for the transcendent power of film. On the other hand, there are cheap moments shooting for cheap laughs, and moments that strive for greatness but can't quite make it. Those good moments, though, feel truly effortless as good film often does. And the music selection is absolutely flawless. Moody, occasionally funny, and always splendid, the music did nothing short of bolster the film very well.

Overall, it's a decent one. One thing that I was afraid of was that the film would be a high-budget mockery of Korine's style, and make me feel as though my time and respect had been completely squandered. And though there were moments that, had they lingered, would have made me feel that, I do not remotely regret seeing the film. I laughed, I cried, and occasionally was unimpressed. Not a bad showing for someone as unpredictable as Harmony Korine.

Kanye Kar-Wai

OK, so I stole the title of my post from BSLS, but it's so right on that I had to.

In yet another superduper move from the Kanye team, "Flashing Lights" a make-over. I've already blogged about how awesome the original video is, but this one kicks things up a notch. Combining the visuals of Wong Kar-Wai's film 2046, and the song by Kanye, the video below is a sensational blend of styles and culture. And there are plenty more videos in a similar vein.

What Time is it There?

I just finished watching "What Time is it There?" by Tsai Ming-Liang. As a general response, I thought the movie was pretty good. I was engaged and invested the whole way. There are a few things in particular that I am excited about in it, that I wish to discuss:

First of all, the film features stellar performances from non-actors. The woman who plays the mother in the film is the owner and operator of a small cafe in Taiwan, and has played the mother in all of Ming-Liang's films. There wasn't a single crack in the veneer of her character or performance, and her emotional moments were nothing shy of amazingly real. In particular, one scene struck me as ringing extremely true, and yet it was thoroughly simple. In the scene, she harps on a fish in a tank, finally talking to it as if it were her dead husband. Her words are few, and the emotion is exorbitantly powerful. Her simple line, "It's so hard," is heartbreaking.

Another key feature of this film is its lack of dialog. Long stints of verbal silence govern the film, regardless of what is happening. Sexual explorations, experimentations, and indiscretions, as well as eating, resetting giant clocks in city squares to the wrong time, and a chubby naked stranger in a bathroom stall holding a clock over his penis: these are all occurrences that are unaccompanied by dialog, which is stunning. What is even more stunning is that the level of engagement I had with the film was completely unimpacted by the fact that no one was talking for easily an hour, save perhaps for a line or two. This is a true testament for any filmmaker. In my own filmmaking I consistently explore things like this; how little can I show, how little can I give, how long can I look at something (Ming-Liang also features very long takes), and not lose my audience? So it is always gratifying for me to see feature films tackling the same issues, and tackling them successfully (another filmmaker who pursues these interests is my personal favorite: Apitchatpong Weerasethakul) Ming-Liang describes himself as an observer, and the actors as NOT performing. I share and respect these views which make themselves pleasurably apparent in the film

Finally, more as a point of novelty than anything else, the film features a cameo by Jean-Pierre Leaud, who plays the main character of Truffaut's "400 Blows," a film featured in "What Time is it There," becoming a point of both irony and intrigue.

Ultimately, Tsai Ming-Liang appears to display no pretensions whatsoever but, rather, appears a humble man interested in watching actors and characters live truthfully in the simple realities of the worlds he does little to create or affect. Despite the weight of the issues and concerns it tackles or addresses, the film seems light as air and, like a wisp of smoke, lifts easily when the film ends.