Film Review

Tarantino's F***ed Cannes Heist

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Cannes, France—

Not that I don't appreciate the privilege of seeing a longer Death Proof—I positively adored it at 87 minutes on the bottom-half of the ill-fated Grindhouse double bill. But whoever encouraged the Cannes Film Festival to advertise its new cut at "2h07" (i.e., 127 minutes)—director Quentin Tarantino, perhaps, or (more likely) the Weinstein Co.'s Stuntman Harv—is practically begging for a long ride on the fuckin' roof of the white Dodge Challenger, sans straps. I mean, the goddamn thing is no fuckin' longer than 113 tops—I fuckin' timed it—but that didn't stop Stuntman Harv from bum-rushing the Death Proof press conference yesterday to say that "you're missing the essence of Tarantino" at 87 (pffff...), and that the new cut, when it's released internationally, "will dwarf Grindhouse—trust me." Fuck, man. Does anyone, even Tarantino, trust Harvey Weinstein at this point?

Near the end of the press conference, which had QT literally sweating with enthusiasm for his movie and its many sources, a journalist asks Monsieur Grindhouse how he feels about writers having been requested by Harvey's crew to pay $1,500 apiece for a seat at the Cannes Death Proof junket. Whoa—can we run this wicked vérité action scene in slo-mo? First shot: Extreme close-up of QT, who says he doesn't "get" the question... Cut to long-shot of Stuntman Harv's dutiful assistant slithering toward the dais and stopping to whisper something insinuating in QT's ear... Cut to QT as another sweat-drop falls, repeating that he doesn't know what this is all about... And finally a shot of dialogue moderator Henri Behar diplomatically declaring that this is a discussion for after the press conference, s'il vous plaît. After you mean like at night on the Weinstein yacht in the middle of the fuckin' Mediterranean or some shit?

Oh, well—no actual proof of impropriety here, right? So even though the powers that be were awfully quick to take that particular question off the table, we gotta be safe and assume that no writer in Cannes under any circumstances was asked to pay $1,500 in order to do his duty at a Weinstein Co. Death Proof junket. But Harv—it's a fuckin' good idea, right? Charge a hundred poor, fuckin' badly dressed fanboy bloggers and weekly print stringers—some of 'em likely with little or no health insurance (though they might get some after you put out Sicko in June)—and, voilà, you got a cool $150,000 to put toward the tens of millions you stand to fuckin' lose on Grindhouse! I'm just sayin', Harv—it's not a bad idea. Make the kids pay for their own press coverage! Kinda in the '70s cut-rate grindhouse spirit for a millionaire movie executive to come and shake down the working press in Cannes, right? Just something for you to think about...

But I digress, dear reader. You want more Proof, don't you? Okay, you got it. As you might've guessed, gorgeous Butterfly (Vanessa Ferlito) finally does her big Texas Chili Parlor lapdance for Kurt Russell's icy-hot villain in a scene that QT invests with as much meta-movie passion as a fuckin' car chase or shootout or samurai showdown. Butterfly's tailfeather-shakin' shit is ridiculously, hilariously hot—even, it seems, for the lady from Uzbekistan who pipes up during the press conference to thank QT for his kick-ass female-empowerment movie on behalf of "all the women of Central Asia." Another new scene that features payback chicks Abernathy (Rosario Dawson) and Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead)—unaccountably projected in bad black and white (and extending Tarantino's charming foot fetishism even further)—lets us know that Abby keeps the Kill Bill whistle theme as her cell phone ring, and that the quicky-mart in Lebanon, Tennessee, carries on its racks not just B-list teen-fashion mags like the one for which dim-bulb Lee spreads her love, but, believe it or not, Film Comment as well. (As FC editor Gavin Smith giddily told me: "Well, now it's my favorite movie in Cannes, of course.")

Me, I'd say Death Proof actually works better in Grindhouse, where it appears as the sort of unheralded drive-in slop that starts really fuckin' late, after you're totally fried in one way or another, and puts everyone in the car to sleep with its low-budget yadda-yadda-yadda—except for the one guy in the back of the van who declares, just before the butt-crack of dawn, "Shit, you fuckin' guys missed it! That movie was sweet!" Still, out on its own, running at a bullshit "127 minutes" (note to Stuntman Harv: Least you can do is put Death Proof out stateside this year so I can Top 10-list it), there's a fuckin' lot to love.

In short, as speed-freak boo-ya babe Kim (Tracie Thomas) would say: "Not that Angelina Jolie bullshit!"

Posted by Rob Nelson at May 23, 2007 11:38 AM | Comments (3)

 

Rob likes 'North Country,' Charlize Theron talks

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Forget praise from the film's subject herself. My fears about North Country, opening Friday, were put to rest by Minnesota cinema connoisseur Rob Nelson in today's City Pages: "Minnesota-movie vets, including Chris Mulkey (Patti Rocks) and Frances McDormand (you betcha), were offered supporting roles as part of what could easily be seen as a show of respect for our cinematic tradition," writes Nelson. "(Boy-from-the-north-country Bob Dylan was tapped to supply a half-dozen vintage tunes.) And, consciously or not, [director Niki] Caro seems to be channeling the independent spirit of Wildrose (1984), John Hanson and Sandra Schulberg's little-seen classic about the struggles of an Eveleth divorcee (Lisa Eichhorn) working among sexist men at the Iron Range's Mesabi Mine." Read Rob's appreciation of The Heartbreak Kid for background (cover image here), and check out this social action organization spawned by North Country and Good Night, and Good Luck, with accompanying group blog. (See also: a hi-def North Country trailer, Ranger reactions, a real Ranger's preview, and other items in MNSpeak's search engine.) Theron and Caro will participate in a video-conference Q&A after a 7:00 p.m. screening tonight (Wednesday) at the Regal Eagan Cinema 16. A screening at Lagoon Cinema on Saturday at 1:30 p.m., sponsored by and benefiting Minnesota Women in Film and Television, will be followed by a panel discussion of sexual harassment in the workplace.

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at October 19, 2005 5:50 PM | Comments (0)

 

9:30 Club: The First Avenue of D.C.

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For the rat stories, the stink stories, the great footage of Scream, Rites of Spring, Embrace, Fugazi, and others, tonight's screening of 2005's 930 F Streeet (9:30 p.m. at Bryant-Lake Bowl) is essential punk rock viewing. (Here's Lindsey's review.) Listen to the audio archive of this week's Radio Riot on KFAI as prep: "Dance of Death: Radio Riot D.C. Hardcore Special," co-hosted by former Washington, D.C. resident Felix Havoc, who plays the first Bad Brains demo and other goodies (full archive here). The film itself (like the Minutemen movie, and the opening work-in-progress on Mission of Burma, Inexplicable--click for trailer) rocks enough to make up for being way talky. Only other complaint: For me, the club was a D.C. First Avenue circa 1988-1990, and I wish the film had broached the crucial topic of non-rock/non-live music. The 9:30 DJs, along with their counterparts at First Ave in Minneapolis and (so I gather) at Danceteria in New York (check the old flyers), pretty much created cosmopolitan alt-club culture as we knew it in the '90s, which also happens to be the way most people now listen to music at home--mixing hip hop and punk and ska and goth all on one dance floor...

The sound fit with my idea of punk rock as it had been shaped in Madison, Wisconsin, and dovetailed with me really getting into the Clash's Sandinista for the first time. I still remember nights in '88 or so where you'd hear "Talkin' All That Jazz" and "Waiting Room" and "Hustle to the Music" and "Punk Rock Girl" and "D.C. Don't Stand For Dodge City" in one set. In fact, I completely missed the post-hardcore scene in my many memorable nights at the old 9:30--I didn't see Fugazi until they came to Madison in 1990 (the last great show I saw at Turner Hall, before it was torn down). Another thing worth mentioning: The club paved the way for mixing all-ages and ID crowds in one place, an arrangement that remains illegal here in Minnesota, right? Fondest 9:30 memory not having to do with girls wearing black: I went up to a Trent Reznor-looking DJ one night and yelled, "Can I ask you what song this is you're playing?" He barely glanced up, kept working the controls, and said: "No." Here's a Washington Post piece on the club, the full schedule of Sound Unseen movies and music through Sunday, Oct. 16, and a selective guide at Complicatedfun.com.

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at October 13, 2005 11:48 AM | Comments (0)

 

"A four-hour documentary on Nazis"

Filed under: Film , Film , Film

One of the great films, The Sorrow and the Pity, screens Saturday at noon at Bell Auditorium in Minneapolis. (Here's the City Pages review.) I avoided it for years because of the "I'm not in the mood to see a four-hour documentary on Nazis" joke in Annie Hall, but the movie never gets boring. The subtitled, black and white 1969 doc about French resistance and collaboration during WWII introduces you to vivid personalities of people who were there, and draws you in. (The mix of interviews and rare footage became the blueprint for cinematic histories from Eyes on the Prize to The War at Home.) The picture screens as part of the Bell's "Marcell Ophuls: Open Your Eyes" series (starting this weekend). Here's Matthew Wilder's preview in City Pages (scroll down): "This three-film retrospective is especially notable for the presence of The Memory of Justice [Oct. 22-23], Ophuls's 1976 masterpiece about the Nuremburg trials and the nature of 'crimes against humanity' in the post-WWII world. Memory was assailed in its day for being unfocused, but the filmmaker's roving style, darting from Dresden to Ho Chi Minh City in a blink of the mind's eye, will seem especially apt to today's hypertext generation...

"Alongside Memory sits Ophuls's monumental Sorrow and the Pity [click for Village Voice review], a four-hour meditation on the nature of the words collaboration and resistance (and, alas, a punch line in Annie Hall). A Marcel Ophuls film frustrates your certainties, requests a rigorous reexamination of the point it just made, and never lands in a place where it can feel secure. In other words, a Marcel Ophuls film has never been more essential than now."

All screenings begin at noon at the Bell, U of M, University Avenue and 17th Street SE, Mpls.; 612.331.3134

October 15-16
The Sorrow and the Pity

October 22-23
The Memory of Justice

October 29-30
The Troubles We've Seen: A History of Journalism in Wartime (1994)

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at October 12, 2005 11:39 AM | Comments (0)

 

Seen It at Sound Unseen: the Brian Epstein Story

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Man two rows behind me, browsing this film's description in the Sound Unseen guide: "140 minutes? Jesus!"

You said it, guy. Two and a half hours is long for a band bio, not to mention a band manager bio. The film originally aired on the BBC in two one-hour parts and, being that this was the director's cut, we got an extra 20 minutes. But even though it was long, the doc was good enough that it suffered only a couple walk-outs. The film connects the dots from a Liverpool boy who dreamed of becoming a dress designer to a young furniture retailer interested in presentation and design to the man who put the Beatles in cute suits. But despite his overwhelming success at cracking the American charts, the Jewish and gay Epstein felt like an outcast until the day he died from an accidental sleeping pill OD in 1967. The film hints at persecution (beatings and blackmail) but fills up on glowing memories from Paul McCartney, George Martin, and Marianne Faithfull. More detailed accounts of the discrimination he faced would've been nice.

Okay, I'll admit it. Even if the movie had sucked, I was determined to stick around long enough to find out whether John Lennon really let Epstein give him a handjob. Alas, there was no explicit story about Brian's paws on John's junk but McCartney seems to think the rumors were false. In fact, he insinuates that if Epstein were going to hit on any of them, he probably would've been the lucky boy. And he's totally serious.

Posted by Lindsey Thomas at October 10, 2005 3:58 PM | Comments (0)

 

DJ Spooky remixes 'The Birth of a Nation' tonight

Filed under: Music , Music , Music , Music , Music , Music , Music

I found out something disturbing earlier this year, while combing through hundreds of local newspapers from 1915-1916 to research the history of the Varsity Theater--tonight's venue for DJ Spooky's "remix" of D.W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (which also opened in 1915). Turns out Griffith's racist totem was hugely popular in Minneapolis, as it was across the U.S., enjoying a long downtown run with prominent advertisements in daily papers. A founding work of cinema, The Birth of a Nation was also an influential piece of white supremacist propaganda, based on the book The Clansman by Thomas F. Dixon, Jr., which heroized the Ku Klux Klan for protecting white women from black men. The ranks of the KKK swelled as a result of the film's success, as did the popularity of "movies" (then still taking quotes). By 1923, the Pioneer Press was reporting the presence of a KKK unit in St. Paul, and a University of Minnesota's homecoming parade had included a KKK float (read more here). Tonight's belated "response" of sorts features the great illbient turntablist Spooky orchestrating a live, three-screen, multimedia re-imagining of Griffith's silent "classic." By now filmmaker's primary claim on history is seen mainly by film students (MN Film Arts' Search and Rescue project recently unearthed a print at the U of M) and others curious about the work's anti-inspiration for Spike Lee, so this event (featuring new imagery and music) might actually be a good way to see the picture for the first time. Showtime at 7:30 p.m. at the Varsity Theater in Dinkytown, with an after-party at the same club featuring Spooky, DJ Nikoless, and Dessa's duo with Jessy Greene, Urban Ivy. See Complicatedfun.com for a complete Sound Unseen festival roundup, and the official festival site for a full schedule.

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at October 10, 2005 3:02 PM | Comments (0)

 

Sound Unseen 2005: What shouldn't you miss?

Filed under: Pop Culture , Pop Culture , Pop Culture , Pop Culture , Pop Culture , Pop Culture , Pop Culture

Besides the film reviews in City Pages, Terri Sutton's essay on rock docs about dead dudes, and the festival's own full schedule of movies and music between Oct. 7 and Oct. 16, Complicatedfun.com has a recommended list of essentials from this year's Sound Unseen program, which kicks off Friday. Among them, Shawn Hewitt at the Entry on Saturday, DJ Spooky's live "remix" of The Birth of a Nation at the Varsity on Monday, and Scene Minneapolis, 1977-1984 at the Oak Street on Thursday, Oct. 13. Expect more on that bizarre DJ Spooky/D.W. Griffith mashup soon...

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at October 6, 2005 6:14 PM | Comments (0)

 

Smash it up

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Quadriplegic rugby may sound as unlikely as underwater basket weaving but Sundance Documentary Audience Award winner Murderball proves otherwise. Quad rugby is a highly competitive sport wherein guys in souped up wheelchairs smash the hell out of each other sans protective gear. This excellent doc follows the U.S. team in their bitter rivalry with Canada (led by belligerent former U.S. player Joe Soares), while clearing up several misconceptions. First and foremost: the term "quadriplegic" denotes a wheelchair-bound person who has lost some (but not necessarily all) use of his/her upper body. Quad rugby players have limited strength and/or mobility in their arms and hands but are still able to handle a rugby ball far better than I ever could. Murderball ends its run at the Uptown Theater tonight but will continue screening at the Lagoon.

Posted by Lindsey Thomas at August 4, 2005 3:58 PM | Comments (0)

 

I figured "Bewitched" would be bad...

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...but holy cats! What a total piece of crap! Burn Hollywood burn!

Posted by Dylan Hicks at June 27, 2005 10:10 AM | Comments (6)

 

The new Batman movie gives all the others a spanking

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It's too loud and the music sucks, but this is the first of the movies that seems to have any idea why people love this myth in the first place. See the revived Complicated Fun for more commentary.

Posted by Peter S. Scholtes at June 7, 2005 7:49 PM