Eric Kohn

April 2015 Film Preview

Tory Kamen and Becca Rose — Wed, 01 Apr 2015 14:00:00 GMT

Summer blockbuster season is just around the corner, but there's no need to wait until then to see a great movie. April brings us a wide variety of women-centric projects, as well as quite a few films helmed and/or written by women.

The month starts off with "Woman in Gold," starring Helen Mirren as a Jewish woman on a journey to recover her family's heirlooms, which was stolen by the Nazis. It's based on a true story, and Mirren roots the film with her powerful presence. "Closer to the Moon" is another WWII-era drama set for an April release, this one based on the crime capers of a group of Jewish resistance fighters a few years after the end of the war. "Marie's Story" is another period piece, centering around the efforts of a 19th-century nun to help a girl born blind and deaf.

There are a few more women-focused dramas being released in April, including the much-buzzed "Clouds of Sils Maria," which garnered Kristen Stewart the prestigious Cesar Award for supporting actress. Stewart has made waves for being the first American actress to win the French award, and the film looks to capitalize on that with its American release. “Félix & Meira" is another award-winner coming out this month. The Best Canadian Feature from the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival aims to make its mark with the story of an unconventional and radical love affair, one that reaches across racial and religious lines. "About Elly" also confronts cultural biases with its depiction of Iran's upper middle class.

"Effie Gray" tackles the sexual politics of the Victorian era, and with a screenplay from Emma Thompson, it's sure to be intriguing as well as quick-witted. Speaking of intriguing, "The Age of Adaline" follows a woman who mysteriously stopped aging eight decades ago. Blake Lively centers the film as Adaline, struggling with love and trust and all the other things that might follow when one lives seemingly forever.

Courteney Cox makes her big-screen directorial debut (the actress has previously directed episodes of "Cougar Town," which she stars in) with "Just Before I Go," and screenwiter Gren Wells makes hers as well with "The Road Within." Director Mia Hansen-Løve ("Goodbye First Love") directs Greta Gerwig in "Eden," a look at the rise of French electronic music in the 90s.

The month will also see the release of a few very different documentaries. "The Hand That Feeds" focuses on undocumented immigrants struggling to form an independent union, while "Iris" follows 93-year-old Iris Apfel, a flamboyant New York City fashion icon. "Antarctic Edge: 70° South" is focused on the changing climate of the Antarctic's Peninsula and was made with the collaboration of Rutgers University students and scientists.

We'll also see comedic projects featuring Mary Elizabeth Winstead ("Alex of Venice") and Rose Byrne ("Adult Beginners"). Nia Vardalos returns to the screen with a role in "Helicopter Mom," which promises an outrageous performance from the "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" star. "Sweet Lorraine" and "Farah Goes Bang" round out the women-centric comedy offerings of the month.

Here are all the women-centric films opening in the month of April. All descriptions are from press materials unless otherwise noted.

April 1

Woman in Gold

"Woman in Gold" is the remarkable true story of one woman’s journey to reclaim her heritage and seek justice for what happened to her family. Sixty years after she fled Vienna during World War II, an elderly Jewish woman, Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren), starts her journey to retrieve family possessions seized by the Nazis, among them Klimt’s famous painting "Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I." Together with her inexperienced but plucky young lawyer Randy Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds), she embarks upon a major battle, which takes them all the way to the heart of the Austrian establishment and the U.S. Supreme Court, and forces her to confront difficult truths about the past along the way.

April 3

The Hand That Feeds (doc) - Co-Written and Co-Directed by Rachel Lears

At a popular bakery café, residents of New York’s Upper East Side get bagels and coffee served with a smile 24 hours a day. But behind the scenes, undocumented immigrant workers face sub-legal wages, dangerous machinery, and abusive managers who will fire them for calling in sick. Mild-mannered sandwich maker Mahoma López has never been interested in politics, but in January 2012 he convinces a small group of his co-workers to fight back.

Risking deportation and the loss of their livelihood, the workers team up with a diverse crew of innovative young organizers and take the unusual step of forming their own independent union, launching themselves on a journey that will test the limits of their resolve. In one roller-coaster year, they must overcome a shocking betrayal and a two-month lockout. Lawyers will battle in back rooms, Occupy Wall Street protesters will take over the restaurant, and a picket line will divide the neighborhood. If they can win a contract, it will set a historic precedent for low-wage workers across the country. But whatever happens, Mahoma and his coworkers will never be exploited again.

Effie Gray - Written by Emma Thompson

In her original screenplay “Effie Gray,” Emma Thompson takes a bold look at the real-life story of the Effie Gray-John Ruskin marriage, while courageously exposing what was truly hiding behind the veil of their public life. Set in a time when neither divorce nor gay marriage were an option, “Effie Gray” is the story of a young woman (Dakota Fanning) coming of age and finding her own voice in a world where women were expected to be seen but not heard. “Effie Gray” explores the roots of sexual intolerance, which continue to have a stronghold today, while shedding light on the marital politics of the Victorian era.

April 8

About Elly

As with director Asghar Farhadi's better-known films, “About Elly” concerns the affluent, well-educated, cultured, and only marginally religious members of Iran's upper-middle class. Elly (Taraneh Alidoosti), a pretty young woman invited as a possible romantic interest for one of the newly single men among this group, disappears suddenly without a trace. The festive atmosphere quickly turns frantic as friends accuse one another of responsibility. Plot-wise, Farhadi's drama has been compared to “L’Avventura”; but the film is less concerned with Elly's disappearance per se than with exploring the intricate mechanisms of deceit, brutality, and betrayal which come into play when ordinary circumstances take a tragic turn.

April 10

Clouds of Sils Maria

At the peak of her international career, Maria Enders (Juliette Binoche) is asked to perform in a revival of the play that made her famous twenty years ago. But back then, she played the role of Sigrid, an alluring young girl who disarms and eventually drives her boss Helena to suicide. Now she is being asked to step into the other role, that of the older Helena. She departs with her assistant (Kristen Stewart) to rehearse in Sils Maria; a remote region of the Alps. A young Hollywood starlet with a penchant for scandal (Chloë Grace Moretz) is to take on the role of Sigrid, and Maria finds herself on the other side of the mirror, face to face with an ambiguously charming woman who is, in essence, an unsettling reflection of herself.

The Sisterhood of Night - Directed by Caryn Waechter and Written by Marilyn Fu

Based on the short story by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Steven Millhauser, "The Sisterhood of Night" is a story of friendship and loyalty set against the backdrop of a modern-day Salem witch trial. Shot on location in Kingston, NY, the film chronicles a group of girls who have slipped out of the world of social media into a mysterious world deep in the woods. The tale begins when Emily Parris (Kara Hayward) exposes a secret society of teenage girls. Accusing them of committing sexually deviant acts, Emily’s allegations throw their small American town into the national media spotlight. The mystery deepens when each of the accused takes a vow of silence. What follows is a chronicle of three girls’ unique and provocative alternative to the loneliness of adolescence, revealing the tragedy and humor of teenage years changed forever by the Internet age.

Farah Goes Bang - Directed by Meera Menon, Written by Laura Goode and Meera Menon

A road-trip comedy that centers on Farah (Nikohl Boosheri), a twenty-something woman who tries to lose her virginity while campaigning for John Kerry in 2004. Farah and her friends K.J. and Roopa follow the campaign trail to Ohio, seizing this charged moment in their lives and the life of their country.

April 17

Closer to the Moon

Set in 1959 Bucharest, “Closer to the Moon” opens as the crime is hatched and executed by old friends from the WWII Jewish Resistance, who seek to recapture the excitement of their glory days. Led by a chief police inspector (Mark Strong) and a political academic (Vera Farmiga), the quintet also includes a respected history professor (Christian McKay), a hotshot reporter (Joe Armstrong), and a space scientist (Tim Plester). Their postwar influence fading amid an ongoing Stalinist purge of Jews and intellectuals, the disillusioned gang retaliates by hijacking a van delivering cash to the Romanian National Bank, staging the robbery to make it look like a movie shoot. Caught and convicted in a kangaroo court, the culprits, with help from an eyewitness (Harry Lloyd) to the robbery, are forced to reenact their crime in a devious anti-Semitic propaganda film.

Felix & Meira

Winner of Best Canadian Feature at the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival, “Félix & Meira” is the story of an unconventional romance between two people living vastly different realities mere blocks away from one another. Each lost in their everyday lives, Meira (Hadas Yaron), a Hasidic Jewish wife and mother, and Félix (Martin Dubreuil), a Secular loner mourning the recent death of his estranged father, unexpectedly meet in a local bakery in Montreal's Mile End district. What starts as an innocent friendship becomes more serious as the two wayward strangers find comfort in one another. As Felix opens Meira's eyes to the world outside of her tight-knit Orthodox community, her desire for change becomes harder for her to ignore, ultimately forcing her to choose: remain in the life that she knows or give it all up to be with Félix.

Alex of Venice - Co-Written by Jessica Goldberg and Katie Nehra

In “Alex of Venice,” workaholic environmental attorney Alex Vedder (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) is forced to reinvent herself after her husband (Chris Messina) suddenly leaves the family. Dealing with an aging father (Don Johnson) who still aspires to succeed as an actor, an eccentric sister (Katie Nehra), and an extremely shy son (Skylar Gaertner), Alex is bombarded with everything from the mundane to hilariously catastrophic events without a shoulder to lean on. Realizing she will thrive with or without her husband, Alex discovers her hidden vulnerability as well as her inner strength as she fights to keep her family intact in the midst of the most demanding and important case of her career.

Cas & Dylan - Written by Jessie Gabe

When 61-year-old self-proclaimed loner and terminally ill Dr. Cas Pepper (Richard Dreyfuss) reluctantly agrees to give 22-year-old social misfit Dyland Morgan (Tatiana Maslany) a very short lift home, the last thing he anticipates is that he will strike her angry boyfriend with his car, find himself on the lam, and ultimately drive across the country with an aspiring young writer determined to help him overcome his own bizarre case of suicide-note writer's block. But as fate would have it, that is exactly what happens. Suddenly Cas's solo one-way trip out West isn't so solo. With Dylan at his side, the two take off on an adventure that will open their eyes to some of life's lessons -- both big and small.

Antarctic Edge: 70° South (doc) - Directed by Dena Seidel

Dena Seidel’s documentary not only offers rare, beautifully shot footage of West Antarctic Pennisula's rapidly changing environment, studying the connections that reveal the concrete impact of climate change; it is also a one-of-a-kind collaboration between the Rutgers University Film Bureau and the Rutgers Institute for Marine and Coastal Sciences and contains interviews and insights from some of the world’s leading ocean researchers. It is a fascinating look at their life’s work trying to understand how to maintain our planet.

The Road Within - Written and Directed by Gren Wells

Vincent (Robert Sheehan), a young man with Tourette's syndrome, faces drastic changes after his mother dies. Because his politician father is too ashamed of the disorder to have Vincent accompany him on the campaign, Vincent is shuttled off to an unconventional clinic. There he finds unexpected community with an obsessive-compulsive roommate and an anorexic young woman, and romance eventually -- and uneasily -- follows.

One of Variety's "10 Directors to Watch," screenwriter Gren Wells makes her directorial debut with this ambitious yet light-hearted coming-of-age tale about the potent medicine we all carry within ourselves. The film is packed with a talented ensemble, from emerging talents Zoë Kravitz, Dev Patel, and Sheehan to beloved veterans Kyra Sedgwick and Robert Patrick.

April 23

Sweet Lorraine

The double life of a Methodist minister's wife (played by Tatum O'Neal) catches up to her, as her husband campaigns for mayor in a small New Jersey town.

April 24

Just Before I Go - Directed by Courtney Cox

Ted Morgan (Seann William Scott) has been treading water for most of his life. After his wife leaves him, Ted realizes he has nothing left to live for. Summoning the courage for one last act, Ted decides to go home and face the people he feels are responsible for creating the shell of a person he has become. But life is tricky. The more determined Ted is to confront his demons, to get closure, and to withdraw from his family, the more Ted is yanked into the chaos of their lives. So, when Ted Morgan decides to kill himself, he finds a reason to live.

The Age of Adaline

After miraculously remaining 29-years-old for almost eight decades, Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively) has lived a solitary existence, never allowing herself to get close to anyone who might reveal her secret. But a chance encounter with charismatic philanthropist Ellis Jones (Michiel Huisman) reignites her passion for life and romance. When a weekend with his parents (Harrison Ford and Kathy Baker) threatens to uncover the truth, Adaline makes a decision that will change her life forever.

Adult Beginners - Co-Written by Liz Flahive (Simultaneously releasing to VOD)

A young, hipster entrepreneur (Nick Kroll) crashes and burns on the eve of his company’s big launch. With his entire life in disarray, he leaves Manhattan to move in with his estranged pregnant sister (Rose Byrne), brother-in-law (Bobby Cannavale), and three-year-old nephew in the suburbs – only to become their manny. Faced with real responsibility, he may finally have to grow up – but not without some bad behavior first.

Eden - Directed and Co-Written by Mia Hansen-Løve

The film follows the life of a French DJ who's credited with inventing "French house" or the "French touch," a type of French electronic music that became popular in the 1990s. Greta Gerwig costars. (IMDB)

24 Days - Co-Written by Emilie Frèche

January 20, 2006: After dinner with his family, Ilan Halimi (Syrus Shahidi) gets a call from a beautiful girl who had approached him at work and makes plans to meet her for coffee. Ilan didn't suspect a thing. He was 23 and had his whole life ahead of him. The next time Ilan's family heard from him was through a cryptic online message from kidnappers demanding a ransom in exchange for their son's life. (IMDB)

Helicopter Mom - Directed by Salomé Breziner

An overbearing mom (Nia Vardalos) decides that college would be more affordable if her son were to win an LGBT scholarship, so she outs him to his entire high school. However, he might not be gay. (Rotten Tomatoes)

April 29

Iris (doc) (Opening in New York City)

"Iris" pairs legendary 87-year-old documentarian Albert Maysles with Iris Apfel, the quick-witted, flamboyantly dressed 93-year-old style maven who has had an outsized presence on the New York fashion scene for decades. More than a fashion film, the documentary is a story about creativity and how, even in Iris' dotage, a soaring free spirit continues to inspire. "Iris" portrays a singular woman whose enthusiasm for fashion, art, and people are life's sustenance and reminds us that dressing, and indeed life, is nothing but an experiment. Despite the abundance of glamour in her current life, she continues to embrace the values and work ethic established during a middle-class Queens upbringing during the Great Depression.

April 30

Marie’s Story

At the turn of the 19th century, a humble artisan and his wife have a daughter, Marie (Ariana Rivoire), who is born deaf and blind and unable to communicate with the world around her. Desperate to find a connection to their daughter and avoid sending her to an asylum, the Heurtins send fourteen-year-old Marie to the Larnay Institute in central France, where an order of Catholic nuns manage a school for deaf girls. There, the idealistic Sister Marguerite (Isabelle Carré) sees in Marie a unique potential, and despite her Mother Superior's (Brigitte Catillon) skepticism, vows to bring the wild young thing out of the darkness into which she was born. Based on true events, “Marie's Story” recounts the courageous journey of a young nun and the lives she would change forever, confronting failures and discouragement with joyous faith and love. (Film Movement)

Did Woody Allen Rip Off 'The Flintstones'?

Eric Kohn — Fri, 15 Jun 2012 20:45:06 GMT

As I have already made clear on the main site, I am no great fan of the new Woody Allen movie, "To Rome With Love." I would, however, like to defend one sequence: A climactic gag that finds Allen's retired manager convincing a mortician to perform opera in the shower before a live audience. Enjoyably surreal, it has the kind of inspired lunacy Allen hasn't truly indulged in for years.

Sadly, even this bit has a familiar ring to it. As a friend pointed out to me today, the onstage shower singing directly echoes an episode of "The Flintstones" in which a televised Barney sings in the bathtub.

Did Woody Allen rip off "The Flinstones"? Not intentionally, I'm guessing, but the precedent for this gag does reflect the overall staleness of the humor in his latest effort. Better luck next year?

Defending 'Vertigo' From…Myself.

Eric Kohn — Wed, 02 May 2012 21:20:43 GMT

One of the joys of the new Criticwire blog is Matt Singer's weekly email to critics. In addition to asking us to name the best movie currently in theaters, Matt also includes a new hypothetical question each week. The last one was tied to Sight & Sound's annual poll of the best movies ever made, and -- oh, shoot! -- I still need to submit mine. (Thankfully, taxes aren't the only thing with extended deadlines.)

The poll contained a two-part question: Firstly, which film not listed in Sight & Sound's current top 10 would you add? And because you're adding a film, you have to drop one. So which film gets the cut?

I acted on instict and chose two Chaplin films, "City Lights" and "The Gold Rush." I doubt anyone would mount a major argument against the notion of these films as monumental cinematic achievements. But when it came to give one movie the ax, I struck a sensitive nerve:

"I'd take out 'Vertigo.' It's a wonderful thriller viewed on its own terms but does not command the same aesthetic or cultural importance of the other films on this list -- nor is it Hitchcock's best movie."

Notice that I did not say "Vertigo" lacks aesthetic or cultural importance. For god's sake, it's one of the most important American movies of the 20th century, full stop. Still, the other day, one of the canny cineastes at Reverse Shot came across my brief statement and called me out on Twitter:

Don't do it, Reverse Shot! This film thing needs you!

And...for the record, it needs "Vertigo," too. But look: To my mind, the chief strengths of "Vertigo" are its refined camerawork, its swooning romanticism and a narrative drenched with intriguing Easter Eggs that mold the character's confused subjectivity into the ultimate anti-hero. Yep, it's a masterpiece, but I could apply that same basic description to "Citizen Kane," also on the Sight & Sound list. So if we're dropping one, why not "Vertigo"? I put "Kane" first because "Kane" came first.

List-making invites a simplistic thought process no matter how hard one tries to deflect it. By virtue of thinking in list-making terms, I knew I was stepping into a trap. So, again, I am very much a fan of "Vertigo."

However, I would also like to note that the final moments of "The Birds" and "Psycho" (meaning the final shot, not the preceding psycho-babble with Norman Bates in a straightjacket) are just as powerful, and those movies also contain a visceral punch that "Vertigo" never aims for. Over the decades, they have received somewhat less serious consideration than "Vertigo" -- partly, I think, because of a prevalent hesitation to take horror movies as seriously as movies that reach beyond the constraints of the genre. The moments of terror in both "Psycho" and "The Birds" are so terrifically ingrained in cultural memory that people tend to forget both movies spend about an hour getting to the scary stuff. These are human stories invaded by monsters rather than monster movies sprinkled with humanity. I find that balance to be a tremendously affecting reflection of life's undulating moods, and Hitchcock renders them in ways that (gulp) "Vertigo" delivers in much quieter doses.

Still, the director's brilliant navigation of moods, seamlessly shifting his focus from detective story to ghost story to something far more abstract than either, has no real parallel anywhere else. As that equally iconic swirling poster art implies, "Vertigo" is a superb search for meaning that underscores the thematic fixations of every great Hitchcockian achievement.

So yes: "Vertigo" rocks. To suggest otherwise would, in fact, imply a fundamental disdain for film as art.

In short, I'll eat my words. And then write my list.

Brief Reaction to the Cannes 2012 Lineup: Start Salivating...

Eric Kohn — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 14:08:46 GMT

The more you attend Cannes, the more you know Cannes. Six years ago, when I first attended the festival, I knew nothing of Hong Sang-soo, whose "In Another Country" premieres in this year's competition two years after the Korean director won the Un Certain Regard sidebar for his "Ha Ha Ha." Now I not only know have learned to appreciate Hong's perceptive character-driven approach to unsuspectingly advanced narratives, but I realize why Cannes is the ideal portal for his work: Hong makes movies that require context -- preferably a familiarity with his style and a willingness to go with the flow. I don't mind drinking the Cannes kool-aid; sure, it has been plagued with distracting politics and ego for decades, but its exclusive club of international directors are a pretty talented bunch.

Hong isn't the only filmmaker graduating to a new stage of exposure. Pablo Trapero first arrived on the scene with his delightfully strange debut feature "Tony Manero," which premiered in Directors' Fortnight a few years back, and has now made his way to Un Certain Regard with "White Elephant" (his second feature, "Post Mortem," opened in New York this month). Jeff Nichols has steadily made his southern-fried approach to strange, dramatically powerful storytelling clear over the course of his last two features, the quietly affecting "Shotgun Stories" and the dreamy "Take Shelter"; early buzz is that his Cannes-competing "Mud," which stars Matthew McConaughey, is an extraordinary achievement. Xavier Dolan has also been an incredibly advanced filmmaker for his age, and I imagine "Laurence Anyways" will continue to demonstrate as much.

And then, of course, the Greats. A lot of festival attract the greats, but Cannes attracts the Greats. The big boys. (And they are largely boys, unfortunately, much more this year than in other recent ones. It is worth asking where the ladies are at.) Auteurs to the core, these filmmakers hold a spot in film history so tightly that even they haven't made a masterpiece in years, it's still very much valid to get a little giddy when their names appear on a list of upcoming screenings: Alain Resnais. Philip Kaufman. David Cronenberg. Dario Argento. Bernardo fucking Bertolucci.

Practically speaking, the filmmakers worth really singling out this year are the ones who have created recent masterpieces, if only because the creative spark is theoretically fresh. These include Carlos Reygadas, back on the scene post-"Silent Light" with "Post tenebras luxe," as well as "A Prophet" director Jacques Audiard, premiering "Rust and Bone." Then again, there could be a surprise or twelve, like: Maybe all of these guys screwed up and this year's program blows. Then again, that could make room for the newcomers to gather momentum they may deserve. Who knows? It's Cannes. You just go with it.

Lots to see and discuss. Let the salivating begin.

Triumph of 'The Artist': Why the Independent Spirit Awards Need a Wake Up Call

Eric Kohn — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 18:55:19 GMT

With all these discussions of rules and stipulations, the award season can sound like a terribly cold, mechanical affair. Setting aside whether or not "The Artist" was qualified to win Best Feature at the Independent Spirit Awards yesterday, the main question is whether the movie deserved it. When Sir Ben Kingsley opened up the final envelope onstage at the Santa Monica event yesterday and read the two-word title, the mood in the room was best described as a collective shrug; the entire ceremony had culminated in little more than a rehearsal for the Oscars.

What happened here? As a Spirits voter, I had been pulling for a number of candidates in the room who never made it to the stage. In the Best Feature category, you have "Take Shelter," Jeff Nichols' brilliant southern-fried look at a blue collar man coming to grips with his fractured reality, which gets real with the dark pathways of personal and professional failure in ways that "The Artist" only confronts with persistent cheeriness and breezy homage. "Take Shelter" is a powerful psychological thriller that assaults the senses and wakes them up; "The Artist" never bothers to burrow so deep. It steamrolled the more challenging nominees simply because it's so hard to hate.

Within minutes of the Spirits' conclusion, I heard many variations of the same concession. According to one attendee, "The Artist" is "okay, I guess," while someone else offered that it was "fine, but…" and then never finished the sentence. Because it's so damn light and fluffy, "The Artist" is the cream that rises to the top of voters' minds.

And so it went with the other categories where "The Artist" triumphed. Guillaume Schiffman took home the Best Cinematography award, although he couldn't make it town in time for the ceremony, having won the same category at France's Cesare awards on Friday. Here, Schiffman beat out Joel Hodge, the innovative cinematographer for "Bellflower," a movie shot with a homemade camera that captured its expressionistic world of heartbreak and crazed libido.

Also not present: Jean Dujardin, a Best Male Lead winner for "The Artist" whose victory meant that "Take Shelter" star Michael Shannon went home empty-handed, as did "Drive" stud Ryan Gosling and Woody Harrelson, nominated for "Rampart." These three performances were neither safe, tidy or comfortable to watch, just like the movies. Again, "The Artist" beat them out only because it was easy.

Looking back on these wins, it's easy to place the blame on a single culprit. "Full list of Harvey Weinstein award winners," read Indiewire's Twitter feed on Saturday afternoon, followed by a link to the Spirits outcome. While The Weinstein Company certainly dominated the evening, also taking home a prize for Michelle Williams in "My Week with Marilyn" (undeserved, but her adorable acceptance speech about being an outsider made up for it), there's something greater than a marketing feat at work here. The cause exists deep in the crevices of voters' minds. By looking in familiar places, they cast unadventurous votes.

That, at least in some roundabout way, accounts for lack of wins for many nominees last night whose success would have sent a message about the validity of working outside industry norms: Consider "Martha Marcy May Marlene" and "In the Family," nominated for Best First Feature. Both use patient formalism to a near-experimental degree. As former Indiewire editor Brian Brooks pointed out in Deadline yesterday, Andrew Haigh's gentle gay romance "Weekend" didn't even land a nomination, maybe because it was just too small and soft-spoken to catch most voters' attention. These are great movies that could use the boost to validate their originality.

One solution to the ongoing danger of a single audience favorite crushing all else might be an alternative awards show exclusively dedicated to microbudget films. A panel of expert could have the power to veto potential nominees on a case by case basis. Following this logic, "The Artist" would likely have been ruled out. But a more realistic answer lies in the hands of the filmmakers. Audiences, even the industry vets, often suffer from cinematic amnesia: They only remember the movies constantly thrust in front of them. To beat the system, you have to play it harder than everyone else.

On the Importance of Brian Brooks, Eugene Hernandez and the Indiewire of the Future.

Eric Kohn — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 17:09:02 GMT

The first time I met Brian Brooks and Eugene Hernandez, then Indiewire's managing editor and editor-in-chief, was at a bagel shop in the East Village. They had no office. Or, rather, the absence of an office was their office. As far as I could tell, Indiewire managed to stay alive by way of the same ramshackle, stitched-together DIY process that the filmmakers the site still covers know too well.

Unlike countless media companies buried in murky hierarchies and beholden to sensationalism for the sake of making a buck, Indiewire's humble beginnings continued past its earliest years because it wasn't solely guided by a profit motive, but rather a much rarer form of passion for creative advocacy. For over 14 years, Eugene was the primary anchor. His departure last year marked a significant moment in IW's history. And now we've arrived at another one.

On Friday, Brian finished up a 12-year run as Indiewire's devoted managing editor, although he began contributing to the site several years before that, having been associated with the same tight group of film buffs that built IW from the ground up. I consider Brian a good friend, mentor and colleague who has taught me a lot about the inside logic of the indie film community--how to read between the lines of the industry doublespeak and why it's important to keep in touch with the movers and shakers working behind the scenes. It matters because movies, especially those made on the cheap with limited resources, need all the help they can get. It's especially valuable to know the people with the capacity to provide that help--be they distributors, programmers or critics--so you can nudge them about great work when the occasion arises, and so they can nudge you back when they have great work to share.

Brian introduced me to many of these people with persistent good vibes and a mentality that never made our work together feel like work in any conventional way. Instead, it felt like a collaboration for a very important cause. It still does. Now, he's moving to L.A. to work for Deadline Hollywood, an intriguing opportunity that I'm certain was tough to resist. I don't hold it against him and can't wait to see how it plays out. However, the great thing about this line of work is the community that holds it together. Brian has a new job, but not an entirely new life. I'll see him around, as will many others.

While his departure marks the final direct generational link to IW's past--with the exception of contributing writer and blogger Anthony Kaufman and advertising guru James Israel--the site's progress continues. There are offices in New York and L.A. and an expanded network of resources, thanks in part to our supportive parent company, SnagFilms. The blog network, led by Anne Thompson, The Playlist, Press Play and many other must-read outlets on their own terms, have contributed to shaping new paradigms in 21st century entertainment media, diversifying IW content like never before. Most importantly, the site still focuses on movies that fall squarely outside of the mainstream; sure, there are reasons to drag Hollywood into the conversation, but emerging talent and typically marginalized artists still take centerstage.

And we now have a small editorial team spread across North America, but the focus remains the same. My colleague Peter Knegt and I both started contributing to the site in 2007, and came to an understanding of Indiewire's complex influence over the global film community by working closely with the two men who have now moved into exciting new stages of their lives. Nigel Smith and Bryce Renninger joined the team in subsequent years and also benefited from working in the shadow of IW's first generation editorial team. Under the assured leadership of Dana Harris out of Los Angeles, we have felt especially confident about the site's direction because we learned from the best. Does that sound cheesy? Sorry, but this is one situation that deserves the cheese.

Coincidentally, the news of Brian's new gig has arrived just a few days ahead of an upcoming reunion of early Indiewire staffers in Los Angeles. The crowd includes such continuing stalwarts of the indie film universe as screenwriter Mike Jones and CNN.com film critic Mark Rabinowitz. Brian and Eugene will be there. I hope they toast to the house they built--and celebrate that it's standing strong 15 years down the road.

Anatomy of a List: My Top 10's In 2 Places

Eric Kohn — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 22:49:07 GMT

Off the top off my head, I can think of two movies I neglected to put on my top 10 list for 2011, and they couldn't be more dissimilar. Federico Veiroj's paean to cinephilia, "A Useful Life," and the vibrant homage to '80's blockbusters and the power of the green screen, "Manborg." But these omissions are neither here nor there. I was lucky enough to sing the praises of both films at different times of the year. So: Let's get to the movies that made the cut.

My top 10 list provided an opportunity consider the movies I kept thinking about throughout the year, and that spoke to me at the precise moment when I chose to narrow down the candidates. "Melancholia" took the top spot partly because it allowed me to experience emotions as narrative in a way I had never encountered before (which is part of driving engine for the constant "Tree of Life" love), but I'll admit it also had something to do the climate surrounding the movie that routinely gave it a starring role in various conversations I've had with people since I saw the movie at Cannes in May. Maybe I've fallen for the marketplace pressures Karen Durbin touched on for this week's Critical Consensus column when she confessed to dropping "Punch-Drunk Love" from her list 10 years ago in favor of "Adaptation."

But if "Melancholia" is overrated, so are top 10 lists. Here are a few of mine from two places: My Indiewire lists, including a conventional top 10 and a list of undistributed films, and the 40 films I submitted in two categories (those that were released this year and those that screened somewhere this year but haven't been released) for Film Comment's poll. For the Indiewire lists, I've linked to anything I've written about these films whenever the material is available.

Best Films of 2011 (Indiewire Poll)

1) Melancholia

2) Meek's Cutoff

3) Le Havre

4) Take Shelter

5) Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
6) Beginners
7) A Separation
8) Cold Weather
9) Le Quattro Volte
10) Nostalgia for the Light

Best Undistributed Films (Indiewire Poll)

1) Hanaan

2) You Hurt My Feelings

3) The Color Wheel
4) Without
5) Policeman
6) Oslo, August 31st
7) Seeking the Monkey King
8) How to Cheat
9) Best Intentions
10) Dark Horse

20 Best films that received a commercial/theatrical run in the U.S. in 2011 (Film Comment):
1. Melancholia
2. Meek's Cutoff
3. Le Havre
4. Take Shelter
5. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
6. Beginners
7. A Separation
8. Cold Weather
9. Le Quattro Volte
10. Nostalgia for the Light
11. The Interrupters
12. Martha Marcy May Marlene
13. Littlerock
14. Bellflower
15. Go Go Tales
16. Terri
17. Tomboy
18. Rampart
19. The Tiniest Place
20. Drive

20 Best new films not released in 2011 (Film Comment list):

1. This is Not a Film
2. Once Upon A Time in Anatolia
3. Hanaan
4. The Color Wheel
5. Kill List
7. The Turin Horse
8. sound of my voice
9. The Kid With the Bike
10. Best Intentions
11. Arirang
12. Monsieur Lazhar
13. Oslo, August, 31st
14. Headhunters
15. Seeking the Monkey King
16. Dark Horse
17. You Hurt My Feelings
18. Policeman
19. Without
20. How to Cheat

Robert Koehler Defends "Margaret," Variety Exec Makes a Bad Joke.

Eric Kohn — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 00:07:34 GMT

The whole "Team Margaret" campaign took an odd turn recently when the esteemed film critic and sometime programmer Robert Koehler (known to many as "Bob") allegedly sent an email to members of the Los Angeles Film Critics Association complaining that the group's awards weren't valid because he didn't get a chance to see "Margaret," Kenneth Lonergan's sleeper hit, in time for the voting process. I like the movie quite a bit, but I'm nearly as smitten with the near-religious fervor that has cropped up to support the movie during a frenzied period when a lot of critics are catching up on movies they missed earlier in the year. It makes me wonder if the marginalization of "Margaret"--largely the result of Fox Searchlight's problematic relationship with the director, its multi-year post-production and its tiny, inconspicuous theatrical release--has actually helped solidify its following, catapulting the movie to a cult status unseen since Terrence Malick's "The New World" launched an army of defenders a few years back.

"Margaret" fans are so passionate about the film that they have been especially cautious about their strategy for supporting it. Koehler's complaint to LAFCA has reached the public eye not because he chose to write an open letter for all to see; it sounds like he actually wanted to affect the voting process in order to help "Margaret" get a fair chance. (Not that it would have made a difference, but that's neither here nor there.) Instead, Bob's beef was reported by Anne Thompson because Variety executive editor Steve Gaydos decided to make a joke out of it by sending out an email to LAFCA members repeating Koehler's email line by line, subbing "Margaret" for the even more obscure Monte Hellman release "Road to Nowhere" as an apparent insider joke.

Um, good one?

Here's the flaw of Gaydos' ill-conceived gag, aside from the fact that it's just kinda lame to mock a smart, driven guy like Bob Koehler for his passion: It's just not ridiculous enough. Gaydos' letter appeared unironically on Hellman's Facebook page. (UPDATE: It's been brought to my attention that Gaydos co-wrote "Road to Nowhere," which, as Neil Young astutely points out, "presumably adds some layer of irony.") Established critics like Jonathan Rosenbaum have advocated for "Road to Nowhere" as one of the best movies of the year. If you're going to haze somebody, at least make it clear that you're actually hazing them. A line by line repetition of Koehler's email that replaces "Margaret" with "Transformers: Dark of the Moon"? That would make more sense, but it's still a low blow.

Steven Spielberg On "Russian Ark" And "Intimate Movies"

Eric Kohn — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 18:07:01 GMT

If the great French critic André Bazin lived long enough to see a few Steven Spielberg movies, he probably would have loved them. A pioneering theorist in the field of realism, Bazin wrote adoringly of the long take as the ultimate realization of cinematic potential. Spielberg also loves the long take, and while in "Tintin" (opening later this month) he departs from the photographic reality at the root of Bazinian realism, the use of motion capture technology means he still has a camera at his disposal, and it does incredible things. A lengthy action sequence that finds Tintin on the lam from some henchman follows his journey across a variety of surfaces on a roadbike, at one point flipping it upside down and riding it along a clothesline before regaining his balance and barreling ahead. The camera never blinks.

Spielberg's name and mythology conjure images of supreme cinematic overstatement, not to mention Hallmark-ready odes to the power of imagination and nostalgia, but beneath these clichés Spielberg remains a masterful craftsman. As a result, it's always fascinating to hear him speak about his work, since he usually focus less on themes and characters than pure technique. On Sunday, I attended a press conference for "Tintin" where Spielberg held court over a roomful of journalists as if delivering a master class. Asked about the long take in "Tintin," Spielberg took the opportunity to advocate for none other than Alexader Sokoruv's 2002 feature "Russian Ark":

"Russian Ark" is one of my favorite films. It's a 95-minute movie all done in one shot. It was done in a museum in St. Petersberg. I don't know if you've all seen "Russian Ark," but you should all treat yourselves to it. It's one shot. He only did three takes; the first two stopped after 20 minutes because there were mistakes but the last take went right through to the end. The cameraman almost died using the steadicam; it was an extraordinary experience. I would not want to make a movie in one shot. Sometimes, like when I did that sequence [in "Tintin"], I relied on all of you to be the film editors and decide what to look at. My job was to frame the scene so we could direct you to where we thought you should be paying attention, but you were free to look anywhere, to make your own mental edits, which is so much fun and empowers the audience to be part of the ride.
Spielberg's command over film form has been evident for 40 years, ever since he made the first-rate telefilm "Duel" in 1971. (I wrote about it last year for a Spielberg blog-a-thon.) At the same time, Spielberg never again made a movie like "Duel" on the same minuscule scale. That movie had a cast of two principle characters (unless you count their cars) and not much else. Partly because no big flop ever put Spielberg in movie jail, he has always been able to make movies on his own terms, and so the free-roaming Spielbergian camera lives on. But that doesn't mean Spielberg couldn't tell an interesting story on a smaller scale. I asked him if that possibility even excites him anymore:

It does excite me. I've been doing some small scale work on television--but yes, if I found a story and felt empowered to want to direct it, and it was just a couple of characters in a room, I would do it. I like all kinds of stories. I don't just go for big, sweeping epics; it just so happens that some of these films align themselves with big productive possibilities, but they're also intimate stories. "War Horse" is one of the most intimate movies I've ever made, and yet it's set against a big mural of history and events. "Tintin" is just fun, just entertainment, a huge ride I wanted to go on and take everyone with me. But I'm also interested in really small, intimate stories. And by the way: They're so much easier to make.

"Easier," of course, is relative, but that only goes to show how much emphasis Spielberg places on the logistics of production. It's possible that the ease of making a smaller movie may actually prove a disincentive during this supremely active stage of his career. He wants a challenge.

That much is evident in "The Adventures of Tintin," which I saw over the weekend and enjoyed enough that I will probably see it again. Spielberg has made a visually fascinating, lovably old school and supremely giddy action adventure romp that plays like a highlight reel from some of his best escapist works while joining their ranking at the same time. I haven't worked "Tintin" into my top 10 list (which I'll unveil soon enough) partly to avoid some of the clichés that Anne Thompson mocked last week, but also because it's somewhat impractical to consider "Tintin" alongside other movies released this year. It's certainly the best action movie of the last 12 months, but at any given moment it feels like the sort of movie that only Spielberg could make (not unlike "War Horse," an inferior Spielberg effort that nonetheless satisfies the checklist for Spielbergian indulgences, and will satisfy anyone looking for that result). That places it in a class of its own.

Parsing Tablet's Top 100 Jewish Movies.

Eric Kohn — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 00:09:42 GMT

Today, Tablet magazine published a list of the "100 Greatest Jewish Films," the kind of divisive round-up that will obviously invite scrutiny for its rankings and omissions. So the magazine has the chutzpah to avoid the obvious, giving its number one slot to…"E.T.: The Extra-Terrestial"? Followed by…"Sunset Boulevard"?

Wow. Where to begin?

Nowhere, really. The list is a terrific read, and definitely includes some viable contenders, especially when you consider the entire idea of Jewishness as an expansive concept. I certainly did when I programmed a weekend film series for Heeb magazine a few years back. It was easy enough to justify "My Mexican Shivah," but "My Mother's Garden" only qualified because its subject, a woman suffering from hoarding disorder, could easily merit description as a nebbish. She wasn't a certifiable member of the tribe.

Still, putting "E.T." at the top of the list pushes any kind of boundaries one might impose on a Jewish film list. I love the movie for all the obvious reasons--its magical synthesis of childhood awe, sci-fi creepiness, and suburban iconography. But I'm not totally sold on Jody Rosen's valiant attempt to explain the movie's treatment of "Jewish exilic longing" or that the "unguarded enchantment" of the climax is a particularly Jewish conceit.

Sure, Spielbergian sentimentalism has a lot in common with religious fervor, but it reached a fever pitch when the Hebrew folk song "Jerusalem of Gold" played in the closing minutes of "Schindler's List." Now that's a Jewish moment for you. E.T. heading home? The amazing thing about that moment is that it's a decisively human one, cultural or ideological associations be damned. If you have to bend over backwards to make a movie seem Jewish, putting it at the top of a list 100 movies strong is a dubious choice.

My own list of Jewish movies would probably start with Sidney Lumet's brilliant and undervalued "Bye Bye Braverman," although I would follow it shortly afterward with "The Jazz Singer," which Tablet placed in the number five slot. At least that much logic is sound. I also appreciate the placement of "To Be or Not to Be" and "Blazing Saddles," two especially Jewish comedies because they manage to import stereotypically Jewish reference points into a broader storytelling context (the espionage and western genres, respectively).

Nevertheless, the deeper you dig into Tablet's list, the higher your eyebrows are bound to rise. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"? "Miracle on 34th Street"? "Citizen Kane"? Come now. That third one is among the first movies I remember seeing that woke me up to the possibilities of the form, and that's partly because, to my Jewish-educated eyes, it seemed to hail from a different world--a place where ruthless men did maniacal things for purposes that had nothing to do with traditionalism. Even serious movies provide a form of escape. Labeling "Citizen Kane" or "E.T." Jewish is just a way of holding them down.

As a handy contrast, consider this list of 100 Jewish movie moments from Heeb magazine. I'm more than a little biased in singling it out since I had a hand in assembling it, but while the descriptions miss out on the same degree of insight as the mini-essays on Tablet's feature, the Heeb makes up in consistency what it lacks in depth. Which is to say, it invites a lot less tsuris.

Why Do Review Embargoes Exist?

Eric Kohn — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 15:07:33 GMT

Over the weekend, word got out that New Yorker film critic David Denby decided to break the embargo on David Fincher's "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo," reviewing the movie in this week's issue of the magazine, several weeks before the release -- and well ahead of the Decemmber 13 embargo requested (demanded?) by the film's studio.

The surprise move prompted Sony to issue a totalitarian mandate to all journalists who had seen the movie early, assuring them that this was no typical EMBARGO BREACH and that, for all intents and purposes, mum was still the word. The Playlist ran a juicy email exchange between Denby and "Dragon Tattoo" producer Scott Rudin, where both men attempt to hold their ground over this rather inconsequential matter.

Of course, if Denby slammed "Dragon Tattoo" and established a bad rep for the movie way ahead of its December 21 release, Rudin would have reason for concern. As it stands, Denby likes the movie, which turns this situation into a whole lot of steaming small potatoes.

Discussions about embargo breaches always involve some kind of theatrical if-then pontification. Denby has paved a new route to the state of the critical practice, rendering him a founding father for a new world! Now we can expand westward into uncharted terrain, touting the prospects of manifest destiny. I'm going to start reviewing first-draft screenplays… no, wait. I'm going to start reviewing lines of dialogue from first-draft screenplays… forget it. I'm going to review movies that don't even exist yet, but probably will, and then impose a review tariff on anyone who steals my ideas.

The entire concept of an embargo is given far more serious credence than it ever deserves. What, exactly, are we talking about here? When the White House doesn't want the New York Times to blow the cover on a major intelligence operation, they give the paper the heads up. Fair enough, when lives are at risk. But if a critic decides to go public with the fact that he likes a movie, exactly what damage can he cause?

Yes, there's the issue of precedent. If Denby breaks an embargo, doesn't it set an example for future infringements? Well, yeah. Last year, Film Comment's first review of "The Social Network" led to the grousing of critics who had yet to share their verdicts. But the review was glowing and resembled much of the positive buzz that followed.

Distributors, publicists and other representing parties try to control as many marketplace factors as possible; that's their jobs. But a critic or any other kind of journalist also must work on his or her own terms, and adherence to a marketplace agenda isn't always one of at the top of that list. As a result, I think an embargo can be considered -- at best -- a friendly suggestion, and nothing like an edict.

That said, if Denby saw the movie under the assumption that he would respect the embargo, it doesn't give him license to break it. Still, I find the idea of letting a group of influential critics see a movie and assume that none of them would use that knowledge for their own means to be naive. Critics are a fickle bunch. Those tasked with working alongside them just have to deal with it.

And guess what? They did. Leaking those Denby/Rudin emails was likely a smart move on the part of the film's distributor. It's next best thing to having Rooney Mara shoot a video threat to the rest of the critical community -- in character, of course, as the badass goth investigator she plays in "Dragon Tattoo." If anyone working on the movie happens to think that's a good idea, feel free to run with it.

What Does It Mean To Be A "Sundance Rock Star"?

Eric Kohn — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 01:35:38 GMT

That's the question I asked myself shortly after assembling the gallery of filmmakers featured in several recent Indiewire articles about the festival's upcoming lineup. The term sprang to mind because I immediately started compiling a list of notable directors in this year's program. The myth of the Sundance breakout tends to dominate the festival's reputation, just as the usual cast of acclaimed auteurs usually define Cannes.

However, Sundance has its own roster of regulars precisely because it discovers a lot of emerging talent. It's also commonplace to dismiss Sundance for favoring red carpet glamour, which is sometimes merited when the movie associated with said carpet utterly blows. But the truth is that Sundance can and does attract first-rate filmmakers, both from its so-called "family" and beyond--from the Duplass and Zellner brothers to So Young Kim and Quentin Dupieux. Does that mean that they'll deliver? Well, that's a different question we'll have to wait until next month to answer. Needless to say, just because you're a rock star doesn't mean you can always rock out.

"Beginners"? "Tree Of Life"? Nevermind. The Real Winner of the 2011 Gothams Was Patton Oswalt.

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 16:41:47 GMT

I had the privilege of serving on two nominating committees for the Gotham awards this year: Best Breakthrough Performance and Best Ensemble. That meant I played a role in narrowing the field down to five contenders in each of those categories, although I didn't know who won until the names were announced at last night's ceremony. I would say it doesn't really matter, that everyone nominated was a winner and equally deserving and should feel like they got a prize just by winding up in those category...but I'm already on the record as a huge fan of "Beginners," Mike Mills' delicate sophomore feature that landed both the ensemble prize and tied for Best Feature with "Tree of Life." Without saying much more, I will say that I'm glad that worked out.

Still, the real performance worth celebrating at this year's Gothams ceremony had nothing to do with any of the nominated films. Patton Oswalt, onstage to introduce his "Young Adult" co-star Charlize Theron for a tribute award, owned the evening.

It was everything people talked about at the afterparty, even more than the usual banter about who won what: Oswalt's mixture of self-effacement and unruliness briefly elevated a somewhat awkwardly scripted evening. More than that, it also perfectly showcased why this terrific comedian should host any number of awards ceremonies in the immediate future. He's smarmy without getting on your nerves, friendly but still irascible. The guy made a "Donkey Kong" reference and geeked out about David Cronenberg's presence in the audience, called himself "a weird bridge troll" when dwarfed by Theron--who insisted he remain next to her while she stood onstage--and then remarked that it looked she was accepting him as her award. Oswalt embodied comedic inspiration with a combination of slapstick hilarity and nerve, tapping into the exact type of sarcastic humor that has currency these days. Somebody get this guy a hosting gig or at least his own TV show.

Until that happens, of course, there's always his Twitter feed.

Here's Melena Ryzik from the NYT with more about Oswalt's performance.

In Praise Of Woody Allen: A Personal Ode.

Eric Kohn — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 23:21:02 GMT

Like many Americans reared on eighties pop culture, I first discovered the potential of cinema by way of Steven Spielberg. The escapism of "Raiders of the Lost Ark," derivative as it may have been to viewers more readily familiar with the matinee serials that inspired it, brought an exotic world of possibilities to life for these relatively sheltered eyes. But I don't want to give Spielberg all the credit for revving up my movie engine; while Spielberg's refined spectacles introduced me to a new world, I was equally excited by the discovery of a familiar one by way of Woody Allen.

I've had Allen on the mind a lot this week, having just watched Robert Weide's terrific two-part PBS documentary about the 75-year-old director for the network's "American Masters" series. Weide's refined survey touches on everything you wanted to know about Woody but never had the opportunity to ask, from his lovably arcane insistence on tapping everything out on the same typewriter he's had for 30 or so years to the slight but usually effective approach he brings to coaching performances. While Allen has moved through various "periods," his technique and outlook have remained fairly stable. Even though I haven't been entirely thrilled by his last few movies, the Allen drug--the neuroses that felt like home--retains its vibrancy in his comedies, and takes on a deliciously grim finality in his thrillers. Even when he strikes out, he's still true to himself.

I enjoyed "Midnight in Paris" when I saw it at Cannes earlier this year, although compared to the "earlier, funnier" Allen comedies it brings to mind (as Allen memorably calls them in "Stardust Memories"), the movie's status as Allen's highest grossing film to date is mainly a triumph for Sony Pictures Classics. It means nothing to Allen. And for the sake of consistency alone, it shouldn't. As he says in the final seconds of Weide's documentary: "Despite all these lucky breaks, why do I still feel like I got screwed?"

Allen delivers that statement with a dry, honest laugh, but he's not joking. His movies live and breath a precisely Jewish form of self-flagellation that, for this viewer at a certain age of adolescent transition, provided a welcome state of relief. Growing up in a household beholden to illogical traditions and old world convictions can make you feel pretty nutty sometimes. It was nice to know I wasn't alone.

Allen's reverence for Bergman, Keaton and other seminal directors certainly exists in various stylistic and tonal indulgences over the years, but on another level what he's known for has less to do with any specific filmmaking practice and relates more to a state of cinematic being. His characters in "Annie Hall" and "Manhattan" are only marginally distinct from one another; they're ostensibly two heads of the same whiny beast.

What I love most about Allen, however, is that no matter how bitchy he gets--whether playing himself or expressing himself through one of his more recent onscreen incarnations--there's still an underlying positivism to his work, a willingness to celebrate the finer things in life no matter how crappy the bigger picture. The best example that comes to mind is that seminal shot from "Manhattan" where Allen and Diane Keaton fall in love against the sweeping backdrop of the Queensboro Bridge. Despite the form of New York romanticism that makes "Manhattan," both then and now, a marvelously sophisticated fantasy, there's a fundamental truth to this beautiful moment. The life of any urban dweller has many interminably frustrating qualities, but most are worth the endurance test for the fleeting moments of transcendence that the city can provide.

I did not fall in love next to the Queensboro Bridge. It was actually a little to the south, in the basement of a poorly-lit club in the Lower East Side. But life doesn't have to look like a Woody Allen movie in order to feel like one, as Allen would surely admit.

Both parts of the PBS documentary on Woody Allen are embedded below:

Watch Woody Allen: A Documentary Part 1 on PBS. See more from AMERICAN MASTERS.

Watch Woody Allen: A Documentary Part 2 on PBS. See more from AMERICAN MASTERS.

A Socialist Nightmare: Revisiting "Martha Marcy May Marlene" By Way Of "The Crowd."

Eric Kohn — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 13:15:27 GMT

When I was an undergraduate at NYU, I attended a career lecture by Garrison Keillor in the journalism department, where the "Lake Wobegon" overseer made his ascent to "A Prairie Home Companion" look easy. "I'm here to encourage you to keep writing," he told the room. Keillor's secret? Freelancing! "I've never had a boss," he said.

Easier said than done, GK. The lovable old timer must have known as much but didn't want to admit it. To a roomful of aspiring writers and reporters facing an industry with fewer jobs than one-off gigs and unpaid internships, not to mention a media landscape with an overall questionable future, the paternal Keillor looked like a beacon of hope.

I was thinking about this conflicting experience over the weekend, when I had the chance to watch "Martha Marcy May Marlene" for the second time. I liked the movie just as much I did when I saw it at Sundance, but during this time through I felt more cognizant of the way the vaguely-defined cult that Martha escapes from serves as a microcosm of society. By breaking away in the first scene, Martha demonstrates her realization, on some fundamental level, that her allegiance to a bunch of lunatics did her no good. It's her Garrison Keillor moment. Which is to say: Easier said than done.

Since most discussions about "Martha" revolve around how it attempts to replicate the trauma of living through a brainwashing experience, its larger significance as a story about growing up and fighting assimilation in general has been largely ignored. This angle occurred to me during my latest viewing experience not only because I had seen it once before, but also because I recently watched King Vidor's classic 1928 silent "The Crowd," which also deals quite eloquently with the struggle between capitalist pursuits and freedom of thought. The balance between assimilation and individualism lies at the root of modern human experience, and both movies tap into it with provocative results.

For Martha and "The Crowd" everyman John Sims (symbolically born on the Fourth of July), a closeness with death liberates them from the groupthink mentality--in her case, that of a cult; in his, the American workforce. When John has lost everything, having quit his job in the wake his child's untimely death, he briefly contemplates suicide before realizing it's not worth the trouble. Likewise, Martha must witness the brutal murder of an innocent man before deciding for certain that her cult's full of shit.

Before that moment, Martha has committed to an oppressive existence at the demented socialist commune where she spends some uncertain period of time getting raped by the tyrannical Patrick (John Hawkes) and following his twisted rules. But when he makes the tenuous argument--after one of his underlings murders their neighbor for no good reason--that "death is pure love," she realizes it's time to hit the road. By witnessing the taking of a life, just as John Sims witnesses his son mowed down by a reckless driver, she recognizes its fragility. And decides, as John does, that she needs a new gameplan.

Writer-director Sean Durkin's intentionally cryptic shooting style often finds Martha framed between two partially visible bodies, foregrounding her dazed expression. It's a reaction shot set against nothing, a means of showing her isolation from the physical world around her. Her spaced-out gaze, highlighted by the film's one-sheet, has a noticeable similarity to the expression on young John Sim's face when he learns that his father has died, leaving him to his own devices in a dog-eat-dog world. They both display an internal recognition of the world as a much darker and complicated place than they initially thought.

In many obvious ways, "Martha" and "The Crowd" have nothing in common. Durkin doesn't yet have the eye for epic grandeur that Vidor displays so monumentally with his master shots--from the free-roaming camera that glides into a skyscraper and finds an adult John Sims obliviously consigned to nothingness at his desk job to the similarly philosophical bird's eye view that closes the film.

But his struggle for employment is just one step removed from Martha's plight, as we see in the dinner table conversation between Martha and her affluent brother-in-law, whom she reprimands on autopilot when he tells her to get a job. She knows better than the ideology she preaches, but struggles to admit as much. Her wake-up call, which causes her to leave the cult after she witnesses its corruption up close, epitomizes the revelations of young adulthood writ large. The cult is her "Crowd."

Durkin could have recycled this intertitle from Vidor's film: "We do not know how big the crowd is, and what opposition it is…until we get out of step with it." Martha and John both break free, but where that freedom takes them remains an open-ended question. Something tells me Keillor's idealism is not the answer they're looking for.

salvation takes them remains an open-ended question.

Easier said than done, GK. The lovable old timer must have known as much but didn't want to admit it. To a roomful of aspiring writers and reporters facing an industry with fewer jobs than one-off gigs and unpaid internships, not to mention a media landscape with an overall questionable future, the paternal Keillor looked like a beacon of hope.

I was thinking about this conflicting experience over the weekend, when I had the chance to watch "Martha Marcy May Marlene" for the second time. I liked the movie just as much I did when I saw it at Sundance, but during this time through I felt more cognizant of the way the vaguely-defined cult that Martha escapes from serves as a microcosm of society. By breaking away in the first scene, Martha demonstrates her realization, on some fundamental level, that her allegiance to a bunch of lunatics did her no good. It's her Garrison Keillor moment. Which is to say: Easier said than done.

Since most discussions about "Martha" revolve around how it attempts to replicate the trauma of living through a brainwashing experience, its larger significance as a story about growing up and fighting assimilation in general has been largely ignored. This angle occurred to me during my latest viewing experience not only because I had seen it once before, but also because I recently watched King Vidor's classic 1928 silent "The Crowd," which also deals quite eloquently with the struggle between capitalist pursuits and freedom of thought. The balance between assimilation for comfort and individualism lies at the root of modern human experience, and both movies tap into it with incredible nuance.

For Martha and "The Crowd" everyman John Sims (symbolically born on the Fourth of July), a closeness with death liberates them from the groupthink mentality--in her case, that of a cult; in his, the American workforce. When John has lost everything, having quit his job in the wake his child's untimely death, he briefly contemplates suicide before realizing it's not worth the trouble. Likewise, Martha must witness the brutal murder of an innocent man before deciding for certain that her cult's full of shit.

Before that moment, Martha has committed to an oppressive existence at the demented socialist commune where she spends some uncertain period of time getting raped by the tyrannical Patrick (John Hawkes) and following his twisted rules. But when he makes the tenuous argument--after one of his underlings murders their neighbor for no good reason--that "death is pure love," she realizes it's time to hit the road. By witnessing the taking of a life, just as John Sims witnesses his son mowed down by a reckless driver, she recognizes its fragility. And decides, as John does, that she needs a new gameplan.

Writer-director Sean Durkin's intentionally cryptic shooting style often finds Martha framed between two partially visible bodies, foregrounding her dazed expression. It's a reaction shot set against nothing, a means of showing her isolation from the physical world around her. Her spaced-out gaze, highlighted by the film's one-sheet, has a noticeable similarity to the expression on young John Sim's face when he learns that his father has died, leaving him to his own devices in a dog-eat-dog world:

In many obvious ways, "Martha" and "The Crowd" have nothing in common. Durkin doesn't yet have the eye for epic grandeur that Vidor displays so monumentally with his master shots--from the free-roaming camera that glides into a skyscraper and finds an adult John Sims obliviously consigned to nothingness at his desk job to the similarly philosophical bird's eye view that closes the film.

But his struggle for employment is just one step removed from Martha's plight, as we see in the dinner table conversation between Martha and her affluent brother-in-law, whom she reprimands on autopilot when he tells her to get a job. She knows better than the ideology she preaches, but struggles to admit as much. Her wake-up call, which causes her to leave the cult after she witnesses its corruption up close, epitomizes the revelations of young adulthood writ large. The cult is her "Crowd."

Durkin could have recycled this intertitle from Vidor's film: "We do not know how big the crowd is, and what opposition it is…until we get out of step with it." Martha and John both break free, but where that salvation takes them remains an open-ended question.

How I Met My Doppelganger at "Twilight," And What He Taught Me.

Eric Kohn — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 23:45:59 GMT

Much as I enjoy reading about movies, tales from behind the scenes of film journalism usually put me to sleep. But an experience I had the other night was simply too odd not to share. So if you're bored by the life of a journalist and would prefer only to read the end result, believe me, I feel your pain. Just bear with me on this one.

On Wednesday night, I attended an all-media screening of "Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1" at the Loews Lincoln Square on 68th and Broadway. Most of the screenings I attend take place in private screening rooms, but large commercial releases usually play to a majority of media outlets in these regular venues a few days before opening to the public. Studios tend to mix the media attendance with some non-professional audiences to help build word of mouth, often hoping that the reaction of "normal" audiences might somehow sway egghead critics from slamming movies with crowdpleaser potential. "Twilight" is a good example: Not every critic may respond warmly to the franchise, but its ardent teen defenders are pretty much guaranteed to shriek at every Robert Pattinson cutaway no matter how shitty the movie. (It turns out that "Breaking Dawn" isn't shitty at all, but that's a different issue that you can read about here.)

Summit went into overdrive with its all-media "Breaking Dawn" screening--in fact, they cloned it. By the time I arrived at the theater for the 8pm screening, the 7pm screening had started long ago, and a third screening was scheduled to begin later on. Anticipation for the movie was noticeable even in the lobby. That's exactly why I find all-media screenings problematic: They represent an attempt to establish standards for a film before journalists can react. I just want to see the damn thing.

As it turns out for "Breaking Dawn," I just wanted to see damn thing so bad that--as Summit did for the movie--I cloned myself. At least, it certainly seemed that way when I checked in for the 8pm. "Oh, he's already here," a publicist told me when I gave her my name. "He's watching the 7pm now."

Wait. What?

"That's not possible," I told her. "I'm here." I hesitated, stumbled. "I'm me, here, now," I said. "Do you want to see my driver's license?"

I got a quizzical look and a Blackberry shoved in my face. "Is this you?" she asked.

I looked at the screen and the email displayed on it. Everything checked out: A message from someone whose named was listed "Eric Kohn" with a pithy one-sentence RSVP to the 7pm. Did I miss something?

No. Wait.

"That's not my email address," I said. I felt a strange heat rising in my face. The sender was labeled "Erickohnfilm@gmail.com," an address I had never seen before.

Now it was her turn to hesitate. "Um, could it be someone else with your name?"

I'm not the first person to recognize that many people out there share my name. In the age of Facebook, we've all discovered our doppelganger clubs. I'm well aware of the conservative public affairs consultant named Eric Kohn based in Chicago, and a couple of others I've found online, none of whom live in New York. Or work in journalism, much less the niche world of film journalism.

I explained this to the publicist, asserted that someone must have impersonated me to gain access to the screening, and insisted they pull said person out of the 7pm in progress. They had seating assignments. I knew the guy was in the building.

She denied me, refused to interrupt the movie, handed me my ticket to the 8pm screening and tried to attend to other matters. I'm not usually crazy about giving hell to publicists unless I'm denied access I need to do my job, but this was one unique situation. Nevertheless, I couldn't find a way to persuade her or anyone else at the theater working on the film that we needed to rally together and take this impostor down. It was a lost cause.

I watched the movie, went home, and immediately sent a mass email to all the reps for both studio and smaller-scale releases listed in my address book. Some of these people I know and see on a regular basis, which makes it unlikely that any of them had signed Fake Me into any screenings without at least dropping me a line about it later. But a lot of studios have big staffs and revolving doors, so I needed them to know that a con artist was in their midst. It wasn't just my problem. It was our problem.

Having taken care of that, I drafted an email to Erickohnfilm@gmail.com. The subject read, "From the real Eric Kohn":

Hi there--I wanted to let you know that I attended tonight's 8pm
TWILIGHT screening at 68th Street and was informed that someone with
my name had already checked into the 7pm screening. I was shown the
email RSVP from this address, so please be aware that I will be
alerting the appropriate industry contacts about this situation. If
indeed you are using my name to gain access to press screenings under
false pretenses, I consider this an act of identity theft and plan to
treat it as such.

The next morning, I received an email from a publicist at Disney (whom I'd never met) informing me that Fake Eric had submitted an RSVP to the New York premiere of "War Horse." She forwarded me the email:

I write for moving pictures magazine and I'm in NYC for a while working and was wondering if I could please come to the 12/4 Ziegfeld showing of war horse

Thank you in advance if at all possible
Eric kohn

Temporarily ignoring the uncharacteristic disregard for capitalization, I briefly (very, very briefly) wondered if there was any chance that I actually could have sent this email. I now felt like I was in some kind of twisted Kafkaesque parable where I had woken up and lost my identity. Since I used to freelance for Moving Pictures, this RSVP almost looked legit. Either someone had done their homework, or a rift in the space-time-continuum had opened up a portal for another Me to wander into this world and continue on as usual. Or something.

Turns out it wasn't nearly as complex as either possibility. Later that day, I received an email from Erickohnfilm@gmail.com himself:

Hey man
I never said I was Eric from indiewire.com or even worked for indiewire.didnt even know there was an Eric Kohn from indiewire. Not trying to identity theft u or gain access to press screenings. Was just seeing twilight. Sorry for the mixup. Won't happen again.

I immediately wrote him back:

I find that hard to believe since a publicist from Disney forwarded me
your RSVP to WAR HORSE, where you identify yourself as a contributor
to Moving Pictures magazine, a publication I used to write for. I
think you need to be more upfront with me about what you're doing
here.

A few minutes later, he responded:

Yes truthfully i wanted to get into twilight and war horse. my friend found the name in that magazine. Said the person was in la so would not be in nyc so i should use that name. Seriously that was it. Again,sorry for that.My apologies.Wont happen again.Was stupid of me and didnt mean to cause you any problem last night.Will be deleting this account and it wont happen again.

***

In the last few years, I've learned a lot about the ramifications of working in a public forum. Say something smarmy or mildly narcissistic and people will call you on it. Get a fact wrong and people will call you on it. Take a controversial stance or make a dumb comment and you'll immediately spawn a couple of enemies, whose disdain for you won't fade no matter how badly you think they've misjudged your character. I'd rather ignore the slander than waste time arguing against it.

You can talk shit about me. Just don't try to become me.

In today's environment, identity theft has become a greater threat than ever before. Fake twitter accounts run rampant, sometimes as a form as high parody and other times as a sneakier and morally questionable means of tainting someone's reputation. In this case, some smartass thought he could pull a con job by simply tracking down a couple of email addresses and using the name of a person he figured would never know the difference.

He was wrong, of course, and anyone who has considered trying something similar should realize that they're wrong, too. In the information age, the ease with which someone can slip into a professional setting involves simply pushing the right buttons. For a long time, the media world was an elitist environment with an internal logic that only insiders understood. Despite some upsides to this democratization, now that anyone can manipulate their way into the fold, all information is suspect. Fake Me was an especially gratuitous example.

About an hour after I emailed Erickohn@gmail.com, I received a voicemail from a mysterious number. A deep voice sounded troubled:

Hey, Eric. This is Da--this is the guy who had the problem with "Twilight." Really sorry about that, dude…very sorry. It was just "Twilight" and "War Horse." It won't happen again. It was stupid. The account has been deleted. Again, really sorry, dude. Hope it didn't cause any inconvenience. Take care.

I don't feel sorry for Fake Me. His invention left me rattled, more aware than ever that media has turned into a dangerously malleable thing. But that doesn't mean I didn't feel a little sorry for his supremely idiotic behavior. A good friend put it right when I played the message back. "Wow," she said. "Your impostor sounds kind of like a nice guy."

You know what they say about appearances.

Catching Up: Brief Thoughts on Soderbergh's "Contagion."

Eric Kohn — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 14:15:25 GMT

The end of the world is a fixation that has captured the imagination of countless filmmakers in several eras of the medium's history. Even Charlie Chaplin pondered the apocalypse in an unproduced screenplay co-written by film critic James Agee. While the zombie subgenre, pioneered by George Romero over 40 years ago with "Night of the Living Dead," combined the gloomy scenario with a terrific form of escapism, it led the scenario away from the scarier prospects of what a real threat to humankind might look like. ("Dr. Strangelove" did not become the paradigm.) Steven Soderbergh's "Contagion," which I finally watched this week, gets closer to depicting the real deal.

A hardcore bio-thriller that feels like a mix of "Syriana" and "28 Days Later," Soderbergh's movie creates a palpable intensity that supersedes edge-of-your-seat entertainment in the most conventional sense. There's no external threat, nothing chasing you up the stairs or creeping out of the shadows with sharp fangs. But Cliff Martinez's phenomenal soundtrack generates a frantic discomfort in tune with the interlocking plot, a pile-up of political and scientific ruminations and the occasional burst of human frustrations. Soderbergh pulls it together with a cold distance while at the same time creating an intimate work about the nature of relationships in times of crisis.

The struggle to control a killer virus proceeds with a continuing lack of sentimentality, replicating the big picture--that odds of survival are low--while giving enough depth to its main characters to make you fear for their lives. Finding that balance, Soderbergh has made one of his most uniformly thought-provoking movies in quite a long time, and also a fairly warm-hearted one, despite the dour prognosis it offers on humanity's frailty. Like "Zodiac," it focuses more the search than the result, the need for answers rather than whether or not finding them does any good. (If you've seen it, ask yourself: If any single character reaches a happy ending, have you seen a happy ending like it before?)

Nobody can dispute that this has been the year of the apocalypse movie. "Contagion" doesn't deliver the genre goods, but it works outside of them. Everything from "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" to "Melancholia," both of which I enjoyed tremendously, travel beyond reality in order to represent its demise in a more expressionistic way, by preying on collective doomsday anxieties. "Contagion" plants its feet on firmer ground. It's not just a part of the end-of-the-world cinematic trend, but the stablest ambassador for the fears it represents. See this unnerving thriller with your eyes wide open, or don't see it all. But whatever you do, don't touch your face.

Before You Say "Fuck 'Twilight,'" Wait. Seriously, "Breaking Dawn" Is Sort of Good.

Eric Kohn — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 13:34:04 GMT

I'm not about to make any sweeping claims about the aesthetic mastery of the fourth entry in the "The Twilight Saga," clumsily subtitled "Breaking Dawn Part 1," and unquestionably conceived with the same glossy and thematically conservative mindset that made the books into a teeny bopper hit. However, those familiar with the series know that the shit really hits the fan in this one, and to see it happen temporarily clears away some of the series' more obnoxious qualities. It's right there in the plot: Vampire Edward marries human sweetheart Bella, carts her away for a luxurious Brazilian honeymoon, de-virginizes her with uber-rough horny vampire fornication, and accidentally knocks her up. (Does vampire seed pierce condoms? If so, ouch.)

Because many people attending the movies also read the books, the "Twilight" series contains a lot of faithful aspects. I haven't read "Breaking Dawn," but those who have assure me this one is no exception. It doesn't get quite as brutal although surely it comes close, and not just with sly innuendo. I have no doubt this is the first commercial movie in recent memory featuring a sex scene that actually elicit screams of shock from the audience, and it's even stranger when considering that said shock entirely involves how hard this vampire is fucking the shit out of his human wife. Their room is a literal wreck. Things fall apart.

Of course, those annoyingly cheesy moments of blunt romanticism haven't gone away, nor has the general didacticism about young adult responsibility (nobody ever says the word "abortion," and Bella hardly considers it herself). But individual flashes of self-awareness sometimes shoot down the lamer ingredients. When Bella waxes poetic about her life with Edward to her werewolf pal Jacob, he doesn't hesitate to speak up. "You can spout that crap to your blood sucker," he says, "but you can't fool me." Team Jacob, right over here.

Director Bill Condon has undoubtedly delivered the best of the series since Catherine Hardwicke's first installment a few years back, but he cleverly overstates the silliness where Hardwicke skillfully downplayed it. They both avoid heavy vampire mythologizing in favor of the freakish sexual dynamic at work. The second and third films felt overwhelmingly amateurish and bland, rarely smart enough to keep up with the subtext involving real human relationships. But the franchise as a whole successfully infected the typically dismissible teen romance genre with kinkier qualities it would otherwise never touch.

"Breaking Dawn" achieves that on a visceral level alone. Bella's pre-wedding jitters come across in a dream she has featuring her and her vampire hubby standing atop a grisly pile of dead party guests. Her climactic birth sequence constitutes a few bloody moments of concentrated medical intensity rivaling "The Fly" and everything "Rosemary's Baby" hints at. (But it has nothing on "Inside.") That scene in particular caused someone sitting behind me--whose other shrieking moments outed her as a major "Twi-hard," if I've got the lingo right--to mutter by the end, "That was intense." The effect is nearly radical when you consider the screaming contingency that would go to this thing in droves even if it only featured a shirtless Robert Pattinson grinning repeatedly on a two hour loop.

On that note: As romantic male heroes go, Pattinson's Edward Cullen is simply not a good person. When it turns out Bella's expecting his baby, he never stops to calm her down about the demon sperm afflicting her womb that might kill her. In fact, he jumps on the phone with his doc and packs their bags, promptly leaving her out of the conversation. Not that Bella, or the movie's chief demographic, can look beyond his piercing stare, even in this infuriating moment. His spell applies to the franchise in general: The brief moments of genuinely thrilling entertainment value will eventually fade in the overall glow of the fervor surrounding them, but at least it was crazy while it lasted.

I would be remiss not to link to Devin Faraci's hilarious piece on the mayhem of the "Breaking Dawn" book, which got me thinking about these issues a while back.

Serge Bromberg Premieres Colorized "A Trip to the Moon" & Behind-the-Scenes Doc

Eric Kohn — Sun, 13 Nov 2011 20:39:33 GMT

Usually, the prospects of digital colorization make a large contingency of movie buffs instantly livid. The recent color restoration of George Méliès's seminal 1902 "A Trip to the Moon" provides a rare exception. Exhumed from the archives of a private collection in 1993, the ultra-rare nitrate print fell into the hands of committed restoration expert Serge Bromberg at Lobster Films around 10 years ago. It took a long time to get the print back in shape, and some images were unsalvageable, necessitating the aid of a computer on numerous frames to mimic the hand-colored images that remained. Twenty-first century technology became the crutch, not an update, bringing Méliès' playfully surreal sci-fi snapshot to vivid life in the way he always intended it.

A new 35mm print of the colorized "A Trip to the Moon" premiered at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, where I regrettably missed it. Thankfully, I made it to the U.S. premiere at MOMA on Friday. The 109-year-old short screened alongside a rough cut of "The Extraordinary Voyage," a documentary Bromberg co-directed with his Lobster Films colleague Eric Lange. The documentary ably pays tribute to Méliès' historical value as the originator of cinema special effects, with testimonies from modern directors including Michel Gondry, Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Michel Hazanavicius.

Not that you need their insight to understand the appeal of Méliès' film. The joys of "A Trip to the Moon" were already apparent, but they multiply in color. It might be the first bonafide visual feast, from the deep yellows of the titular rock to the reddish hues of its imaginary inhabitants. As Bromberg explains in the documentary, digital tweaking revealed the brilliant textures that Méliès brought to his factory-like production studio. (It also exposed the unapologetic openness of the artifice--lab technicians discovered a studio key hanging in the corner of one frame).

There are two ethically questionable decisions involved with the newly restored print. One revolves around its placement in the Méliès-centered "Hugo," Martin Scorsese's ambitious tribute to the director, which includes "Trip" footage upgraded to 3-D. However, given the spectacular nature of Méliès' filmmaking, this strikes me as a non-issue. The other potential problem is a brand new score by the French band Air that Bromberg commissioned for screenings of "A Trip to the Moon." This one's a bit tougher to defend.

At times atrociously distracting, the sonic music occasionally matches Méliès' otherworldly visuals, but it never feels less than contemporary. Thankfully, Bromberg realizes as much: On Friday night, I had scarcely finished telling a friend how much I'd rather watch the film with a score from its period when Bromberg sat down at the piano and provided exactly that.

During his accompaniment for this second run-through, Abu Dhabi Film Festival head Peter Scarlet grabbed the mic and read Méliès' original script for the film, which the director had insisted on as part of the screening experience. Bromberg claimed this was the first time in the U.S. that such a narration had been provided; whether or not this was true (such statements are difficult to verify), it certainly expanded the movie's entertainment value.

Méliès' script includes small details that broaden the comedic dimension of the scenario, such as the note that a rocket scientist has tumbled into a vat of acid, and the identification of the women bidding farewell to the astronauts as "Lady Marines." The moon residents are referred to as "Selenites," a reminder of the source material: HG Wells' "The First Men in the Moon," released a year earlier.

"A Trip to the Moon" continue to amuse all kinds of people, not only silent film buffs. That makes it the ideal cure for anyone suffering from that horribly superficial ailment limiting their movie interests to anything with color and sound. "Trip" has both, and so it's a terrific gateway drug. Appropriately, Bromberg said he intends to tour with the new print and the documentary as a double-bill, a feat with serious potential (get some celebrities to read that Méliès script, and the prospects of a traveling commercial hit go even further). The value of "A Trip to the Moon" goes beyond its role in film history and involves the impact it had (and still has) on the global public's imagination. NASA, take note: "Everyone knows the French invented cinema," Bromberg said in his introduction. "What they don't realize is that the French were also the first to land on the moon."

Brief Thoughts From DOC NYC on "The Island President" and "Girl with Black Balloon"

Eric Kohn — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 22:09:45 GMT

Running a film festival is always a daunting task, and starting one is even harder. These two reasons make it particularly impressive that Thom Powers and Raphaela Neihausen have managed to turn DOC NYC into a major New York City film event, not only for industry people in the know but moviegoers at large, by only its second year. I wasn’t crazy about Werner Herzog’s “Into the Abyss,” but have no qualms with its selection as this year’s opening night film; Herzog’s a bonafide art house rock star and brings the crowds, exactly the sort of coup necessary to lift the festival’s profile out of the documentary ghetto and give it the appearance of a savvy event worth any cultured New Yorker’s time.

This time around, I managed to catch of the more significant entries in this program, one of which landed the Grand Jury Prize of the Metropolis section. Corinne van der Borch’s “Girl with Black Balloons” follows a reclusive artist named Bettina discovered by the filmmaker living in the bowels of the Chelsea Hotel. Her ramshackle apartment is littered with abstract paintings and photographs as deserving of critical attention as any number of other creative works from her heyday in the 1960’s. Van der Borch boldly ventures beyond the limits of mere portraiture and injects herself into the story, speaking in voiceover about the way the solemn older women has infiltrated the filmmaker’s dreams. Like “Grey Gardens” reimagined by Chris Marker, “Girl With Black Balloons” maintains a hypnotic effect, evolving into a perceptive diary film about the nature of all creation--including Van der Borch’s pregnancy.

In “The Island President,” which premiered to much acclaim at the Toronto International Film Festival, Jon Shenk follows Maldivian President Mohamed Nasheed, the Maldives answer to Barack Obama, an astute and educated man who overcame the government’s longtime corruption to land his spot in the captain chair. The majority of the movie revolves around Nasheed’s valiant attempt to get the world to accept new Carbon Emission Standards to lower the effects of global warming and prevent his country from sinking into the sea. The cause plays out in cogent, provocative terms, and it’s often appalling to see just how often Nasheed’s pleas fall on deaf ears. However, the movie lacks a sense of urgency or dramatic effect, and it’s hard not to feel like the director buried the lead: Nasheed spent years fighting the previous rulership before launching his successful presidential campaign. His journey to the top offers a much more intriguing arc than the flailing he does once he gets there. Still, just as “Girl with Black Balloons” involves the discovery of a neglected talent, “The Island” deserves more attention for discovering a neglected country.

Juvenilia As Art: Harold and Kumar and Sonic the Hedgehog.

Eric Kohn — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 16:17:19 GMT

I just picked up SEGA's newly released videogame "Sonic Generations," a throwback to the original "Sonic" game released on SEGA's early platform 20 years ago. The new game aims to be a nostalgia trip and delivers on that promise in spades. By that I mean it satisfies the need for speed precisely the way the classic version did. "Sonic Generations" beefs up the visuals and some of the gameplay immersion with 3-D graphics and a wandering virtual camera, but the sheer desire for forward motion remains the same. Thankfully.

As a child of the nineties, my interest in gaming came instinctually, the result of an exploding commercial industry cranking out product aimed squarely at my demographic. But if I was reared on Mario, I found my calling with Sonic. While both the Nintendo and SEGA games offered the same basic sidescrolling action, only Sonic brought speed. These games moved fast, human comprehension be damned; the 16-bit graphics slowed down for nobody.

For years, cinema has been discussed as a medium defined by 24 frames per second, a distinction that grows increasingly less relevant in the digital age. Video usually runs closer to 30 frames second, but that's a distinction nobody really considered from a theoretical point of view until the so-called "digital revolution" of the late nineties. I don't know how the frame rate discussion translates to videogame graphics, but somebody should do the math.

A generation of young adults--as well as some older ones--came to understand moving images as not only restricted to a single format. My interest in movies formed around the same time that I spent countless hours glued to the TV screen with a SEGA controller locked into my two hands, my restless thumbs tapping away at three powerful buttons and a basic directional pad that had major ramifications for the blur of a hedgehog in front of me. It was so easy I couldn't help envy the guy. Put Sonic in a ball, let him spin, and release; speed through the level and fuck any measly robot that tries to get in your way. The ease with which Sonic could break boundaries while maintaining the same focused look of satisfaction gave him the rascally appearance of a digital punk rocker, replete with blue mohawk. For many people, this stab at poetic comprehension may sound like nothing more than shameless marketing copy, but those familiar with what I'm talking about should seek out "Sonic Generations" and take a handy trip back in time. It's worth the price of admission.

***

The same night I got my hands on "Sonic Generations," I also caught up with this weekend's sleeper hit: "A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas." Heading into their 30's and dealing with the pressures of adulthood, Harold and Kumar belong to the same generation that was reared on Sonic and his ilk. Like every other franchise, their adventures must change with the times, and so the duo land their first 3-D adventure at the same moment that the original Sonic lands his. However, whereas I fell in love with the fantasy of Sonic's speed, I find that Harold and Kumar provide a much deeper form of identification.

In the latest installment, Harold dons a suit and tie and has grown acclimated to his domesticated suburban life. Kumar continues to dodge his responsibilities, including his penchant for bong rips and a knocked-up girlfriend. When a monstrous joint addressed to Harold shows up at Kumar's pad, the baked protagonist heads over to his old pal's home to hand it over, only to wind up torching the pricey Christmas tree that Harold's menacing father-in-law (Danny Trejo) has maintained since childhood. The subsequent adventures that Harold and Kumar endure in the search for a new tree naturally lose their narrative thread, implicating gangsters, a baby on drugs, a enjoyably trippy claymation sequence and, naturally, one very raunchy Neil Patrick Harris, who delivers a unique spin on the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and appears in a flashback that finds him getting a handjob in heaven. Oh yes.

Despite the naughtiness throughout, however, "A Very Harold & Kumar 3D Christmas" never stays from the sweet vibe of a sincere buddy comedy. At the start, Harold and Kumar no longer relate to each other, but at some point they decide to accept their mutual flaws no matter what social and economic pressures may attempt to force them apart. That's an overly heartfelt message given renewed value in the context of the relentless strange and off-color cultural ephemera that defines these movies' appeal. The newest entry has plenty of farce and cruel gags galore, but the holiday spirit is genuine.

Not a stoner myself, I can't relate to the ongoing battle between getting faded and growing up, but the inane and occasionally quite surreal antics that this aging pair endure come with an oddly touching hook--that, no matter how much you grow up, some things never change.

Brief Thoughts on “Batman: Year One.”

Eric Kohn — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 14:56:01 GMT

While the web has been drenched with rumors about the upcoming third entry in Christopher Nolan’s live action “Batman” movies, the Dark Knight made a comparatively quieter arrival in a new movie this week: On Tuesday, Warner Home Video released the direct-to-DVD “Batman: Year One,” an hourlong adaptation of Frank Miller’s seminal ‘80s comic. Directed by Lauren Montgomery and Sam Liu, the animated feature captures the original elegance of the source material, while at the same time proving that a transcendent experience in one medium doesn’t always seamlessly translate into another one.

Released in 1987, “Year One” was part of a wave of superhero comics during that decade (along with Miller’s superior “The Dark Knight Returns” and Alan Moore’s “Watchmen”) to rejuvenate ancient men-in-tights narratives with grittier adult themes and previously unexplored depth. The brilliance of “Year One” is that it doesn’t only revolves around Batman’s origin. While Bruce Wayne gradual becomes the mysterious force battling Gotham City corruption, his path runs parallel to that of Jim Gordon, the good-natured police transfer who eventually fills the role of commissioner. The young Gordon’s unwillingness to play by the bad cop rules dominating Gotham puts him and his pregnant wife in harm’s way, while the pressures of the job lead him down a road to infidelity that’s as much a part of the plot as anything else. (Rated PG-13, “Year One” actually has a greater amount of sexual innuendo than Nolan’s first two “Batman” films combined.)

I’m not crazy about Ben McKenzie’s voice acting as Batman, but “Breaking Bad” star Bryan Cranston does a killer job at nailing the mixture of sincerity and calculation in Jim Gordon’s voice. Gordon the real star of the show, which is the main reason why the “Year One” adaptation works as well as it does.

And yet it’s overall very much a slight experience. The original volume, illustrated by David Mazzuccchelli, is a slim work of art that benefits from multiple reads. More than a short story with pictures, it’s a sharp update to Batman mythology with several levels of psychological intrigue on every page. The movie, however, doesn’t sit still; as a result, it’s over and done with so quickly that the overall impression is somewhat slight. Still, it should be seen by superhero aficionados for nailing what the recent slew of deconstructive superhero movies (“Kick Ass,” “Super,” “Defendor,” “Griff the Invisible” and so on) have sorely missed: Fully believable characters and legitimate reasons to believe in their convictions. Each fist is flung with purpose.

On the most basic level, “Year One” looks great, following on the heels of the equally solid “Batman: Under the Red Hood” released earlier this year. Both movies return to the noir-inflected atmosphere of the ‘90’s-era “Batman: The Animated Series,” the brainchild of Bruce Timm, who serves an executive producer here. I’ve enjoyed aspects of Nolan’s “Batman” movies and appreciate the intense gravitas he brings to the material, but these more stylized takes tap into the mixture of fantasy and naturalism at the root of Batman’s appeal: He’s just a masked vigilante willing to take a stand, with no less fury against the establishment than the protestors at Occupy Wall Street (where it’s rumored that “The Dark Knight Rises” may shoot soon). “Year One” isn’t fully formed, but it realizes that potential by placing Batman into a classy storyline in which he shares the stage with another man just as relevant to the mission of making a difference. It turns out you don’t need a mask to clean up the town, nor do you need Christian Bale.

Brief Thoughts on "Batman: Year One."

Eric Kohn — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 10:03:24 GMT

While the web has been drenched with rumors and buzz about the upcoming third entry in Christopher Nolan's live action "Batman" movies, the dark knight made a comparatively quieter arrival in a new movie this week: On Tuesday, Warner Home Video released the direct-to-DVD "Batman: Year One," an hourlong adaptation of Frank Miller's seminal '80s comic. Directed by Lauren Montgomery and Sam Liu, the animated feature captures the original elegance of the source material, while at the same time proving that a transcendent experience in one medium doesn't always seamlessly translate into another one.

Released in 1987, "Year One" was part of a wave of superhero comics during that decade (along with Miller's superior "The Dark Knight Returns" and Alan Moore's "Watchmen") to rejuvenate ancient men-in-tights narratives with grittier adult themes and previously unexplored depth. The brilliance of "Year One" is that it doesn't only revolves around Batman's origin. While Bruce Wayne gradual becomes the mysterious force battling Gotham City corruption, his path runs parallel to that of Jim Gordon, the good-natured police transfer who eventually fills the role of commissioner. The young Gordon's unwillingness to play by the bad cop rules dominating Gotham puts him and his pregnant wife in harm's way, while the pressures of the job lead him down a road to infidelity that's as much a part of the plot as anything else. (Rated PG-13, "Year One" actually has a greater amount of sexual innuendo than Nolan's first two "Batman" films combined.)

I'm not crazy about Ben McKenzie's voice acting as Batman, but "Breaking Bad" star Bryan Cranston does a killer job at nailing the mixture of sincerity and calculation in Jim Gordon's voice. Gordon the real star of the show, which is the main reason why the "Year One" adaptation works as well as it does.

And yet it's overall very much a slight experience. The original volume, illustrated by David Mazzuccchelli, is a slim work of art that benefits from multiple reads. More than a short story with pictures, it's a sharp update to Batman mythology with several levels of psychological intrigue on every page. The movie, however, doesn't sit still; as a result, it's over and done with so quickly that the overall impression is somewhat slight. Still, it should be seen by superhero aficionados for nailing what the recent slew of deconstructive superhero movies ("Kick Ass," "Super," "Defendor," "Griff the Invisible" and so on) have sorely missed: Fully believable characters and legitimate reasons to believe in their convictions. Each fist is flung with purpose.

On the most basic level, "Year One" looks great, following on the heels of the equally solid "Batman: Under the Red Hood" released earlier this year. Both movies return to the noir-inflected atmosphere of the '90's-era "Batman: The Animated Series," the brainchild of Bruce Timm, who serves an executive producer here. I've enjoyed aspects of Nolan's "Batman" movies and appreciate the intense gravitas he brings to the material, but these more stylized takes tap into the mixture of fantasy and naturalism at the root of Batman's appeal: He's just a masked vigilante willing to take a stand, with no less fury against the establishment than the protestors at Occupy Wall Street (where it's rumored that "The Dark Knight Rises" may shoot soon). "Year One" isn't fully formed, but it realizes that potential by placing Batman into a classy storyline in which he shares the stage with another man just as relevant to the mission of making a difference. It turns out you don't need a mask to clean up the town, nor do you need Christian Bale.

What's Guillermo Del Toro's Transmedia Studio Working On?

Eric Kohn — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 05:40:05 GMT

In today's interview with Guillermo Del Toro (the first of two parts), I spoke to the director at great length about his interest in transmedia, which includes the transmedia studio called Mirada that he launched last year. Here's what Del Toro had to say about Mirada's productivity:

We've had a very interesting first few months. We're a very curious company. We got involved in a huge multimedia installation celebration for IBM's 100th anniversary called the THINK Exhibit [opening at Lincoln Center in September]. Using all the resources of our company, we created a special shooting rig that [Del Toro's cinematographer] Guillermo Navaro designed called the Medusa. It's a four-camera rig that shoots panoramic images that are almost life-size. It was fulfilling, exactly what we want to do. We did commercials, video clips, all the regular stuff, but we're also developing a viral for [Del Toro's next feature] "Pacific Rim," and a teaser trailer for it internally to show the studio what it would look like.

After the jump, more information on that IBM exhibit coming soon to New York.

On IBM's 100th anniversary, the company wanted to share some lessons they’ve learned.
The THINK Exhibit is an exploration into how the world works and how to make it work better.
Although many leaps of progress have been their own journey, they have been the result of a distinct, repeatable pattern. They have followed a common path. Through examples and stories, the THINK exhibit explores how progress is shaped through a common and systematic approach and reveals this pattern to progress. Mirada has been responsible for the film direction, design and production of narrative, interactive and data visualization.
The experience:
It combines three unique experiences to engage visitors in a conversation about how we can improve the way we live and work.
Data wall:
The wall visualizes, in real time, the live data streaming from the systems surrounding the exhibit such as traffic on Broadway, solar energy or air quality. Visitors discover how we can now see change, waste, flows and opportunities in the world’s systems.
Immersive film:
Inside the exhibit space, visitors encounter a “media field" composed of 40 seven-foot screens. As the screens come to life, visitors step into a 12-minute immersive film. A kaleidoscope of images and sound surrounds them. They are literally inside the story. We created a special HD MULTICAMERA RIG called "The Medusa" for that.
Interactive experience:
At the conclusion of the film, the 40 media panels become interactive touchscreens, transforming the space into a forest of discovery. The interaction not only allows for an innovative navigation of deep-dive content, but also for visitors to participate and shape the overall experience through provocative questions and polls.
When:
Open to the general public September 23 to October 23.
Where:
At Lincoln Center, New York. The cultural center of the city.

Meet Conan O'Brien's Brilliant Editor, Dan Dome.

Eric Kohn — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 05:17:09 GMT

The best thing about this very funny spoof trailer for a nonexistent exploitation movie called "Butterworth," which aired on "Conan" this week, passes by in a matter of seconds:

Although these fake credits include a few amusing reference points (Michael Bay, president biographer Doris Kearns Goodwin), they're also partly the real deal: The "re-editing" credit goes to one Dan Dome, a prolific editor whose work has included numerous bits for Conan O'Brien's new program. In this case, he shows a firm grasp on the rhythms of a classic blaxploitation trailer with the same ease that a few directors brought to the fake B-movie trailers made for "Grindhouse" a few years back. Along those same lines, I hope somebody has considered optioning the rights to "Butterworth" and milking it for all its worth. I mean, if it worked for "Machete"…

Here's the full trailer: