SAVAGE CINEMA'S COMING ATTRACTIONS FOR JANUARY 2011

Happy New Year and welcome to Year Two of Savage Cinema!!!

As the first day of the new year is underway and all of you have places to go and people to see, I will try to keep the coming attractions brief.

Also, the scant nature of this entry is because my main goals for this first month of the new year are exactly the same as the ones I set for myself for the final month of the previous year. Due to a complete lack of time, because of holiday and teaching responsibilities, I only saw one feature film in the theater during the previous month…well, actually, that's not completely true...

You see, in the afternoon on New Year's Eve, I saw a film that I am strongly feeling just may be my number one pick for my favorite film of 2010. The review for that particular film will lead off the month and will be followed by the other December 2010 releases I haven't had the chance to screen as of yet.

Aside from that, we'll just have to see what I come up with.

As always, I am so happy to have you along for the ride for a second year and I pledge to do my very best to make it worth your while.

I'll see you when the house lights go down...

HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY TO SAVAGE CINEMA!

I wonder how many ideas were hatched deep within the confines of a basement.

Dear readers, I have reached a personal milestone. Today marks the official 1st anniversary of Savage Cinema and I wish that I could effectively share the happiness I feel for reaching this peak. With the publishing of this post, I will have crossed a personal "Finish Line" in a year long marathon that has consisted of 158 postings that hold an ocean's worth of words, memories, impressions and musings. And it all began in the exact spot that I am currently sitting in: my parent's basement during a holiday visit.

I have had the idea for something like Savage Cinema for many, many years but was not exactly certain of what it could be. Frankly, I just did not have the bravery to share my views in a written form, convincing myself that either I just did not have the talent to pull something of this nature off very successfully and also knowing for certain that the world really didn't need one more person in cyberspace rattling on and on about an art form he did not have hand in creating himself. What could I possibly add to the process of art and artistry by being on the sidelines, so to speak?

Well...I wanted to try and make it artful and through a lifetime of reading film criticism, especially the continuing odyssey of Roger Ebert, I knew that my vision could have a certain potential. In many ways, I have been writing reviews since childhood as they have all been in my head after viewing one film after another and through utilizing the tools given to me by Ebert and Gene Siskel, I could engage in heavy duty conversations with friends and family as well. Now, it was just the act of stringing together those thoughts and words into a written form that could be enjoyable to read.

I have considered myself a "writer" for much of my life and I really became engaged with that piece of my spirit during my teenage years when I began writing screenplays, which culminated with the high school success of writing and directing a fun movie entitled "Life In One Day" for my Senior Year Arts Week. Between college and my mid-twenties, I wrote two deeply personal screenplays of epic length, each depicting bookends to the college experience. Some time after that, and profoundly inspired by the works of John Irving, I jumped into writing in the prose style and while I am still occasionally hacking away at this mythical book inside of my head and soul, that process has also been incredibly rewarding. But, throughout it all, there has been one tremendous obstacle: myself.

Barely anybody has read anything I have ever written as my courage just is not strong enough. Yet, again, I knew that I needed to try something so why not dip my toes into the waters of the public arena with film reviews?

I began my journey by writing film reviews and publishing them upon my Facebook page, allowing friends to read what I had composed. Thankfully, the response was positive and the encouragement I continued to receive throughout that process gave me the proper push to extend myself into the larger world of cyberspace. So, one year ago, as I sat in my parent's basement during a holiday visit, I created this space, named it, wrote my welcome and mission statement, began to archive previously written reviews and shortly thereafter, began to compose and publish reviews solely in this space.

I really wish that I could effectively tell you how rewarding this process has been for me. I just don't think there is a way to express it with the proper magnitude but I have a strong feeling that I think you will all understand. I truly hope this has been an enjoyable time for you as I have designed this site to be inclusionary, literary, informative and entertaining.

Yes, the reviews are lengthy and I do realize that in our accelerated times that it is not always easy to take the time to read something so seemingly mountainous. But, the length is purposeful.

First of all, it's just the only way I know how to do it and for that, you can all thank or criticize my Mother. During childhood, she would drill into me the process of being thorough, as far as my education was concerned. She scoffed at all shortcuts and demanded excellence at all times. She would often say to me, "Any person off the street should be able to pick up anything you've written and know exactly what you are talking about!" So, that demand is an integral part of my writing process. I want to make the reviews as complete as possible and fully worth the time you have taken to give them a read or even a glance.

Secondly, the reviews are so long because in my own way, I do want to almost force people to slow down, in our accelerated times, and READ! I have no desire to contribute to the overly abbreviated and substance lacking style that is rampant these days. If a person just wants to get a star rating and a few choice punchy words, then Savage Cinema is just not the place for you. I desire for you, dear readers, to savor what I have written. The reviews are fashioned to be read before or after you have seen a certain film, giving you an opening to engage in a discussion with me about it afterwards. As I stated from the beginning, I am NO EXPERT. I am just an enthusiast, so eager to share that enthusiasm with you.

Finally, to justify the length, I have to make the reviews personal and actually, it could only be this way as movies are dreams and dreams are uniquely personal and emotional. If I want you to feel anything at all with these things is that emotional connection I have with the art, which in turn is a connective tissue between you and me. I am giving you a window into my world with the inclusion of myself within the context of a particular review and isn't that how we all experience a movie, or a book or a song? It is always through the filter of our personal experiences.

To let you into my process, I do not take notes during a film. I just sit and watch and let myself open to just enjoy the experience placed in front of me. It's just like you. It's no different. The story either works or it doesn't. I either like it or I don't. All I am doing is putting it all into words, which I try to do as soon after I see a film as possible. Sometimes, the words just arrive. Sometimes, I really have to force them out. Sometimes, I honestly have absolutely NO IDEA of what I have to say and I'll just cobble down some key words and see if they trigger something internally. But, when they are completed, they are all ready for you and your potential enjoyment.

I would never and could never have enough words to express the gratitude I feel for absolutely every single person who has read anything that I have written. All of the praise you have given to me has not been lost on me in the least and believe me, it NEVER gets old or loses a certain luster. it is because of you that I keep trying and keep placing myself "out there." Thank you for being there to catch me.

I have to take this time to give special thanks to Margaret Pattison, for her persistent encouragement to get outside of my comfort zone and allow more people to see what I have been up to and also, for feeling that these reviews are worthy of other people's time and energy. I have to also give special thanks to Stephanie Werhane for being the person who quickly gave me all of the tools and info I needed to create this space in the first place. I am not terribly computer literate or that technically savvy but, in under ten minutes after receiving her instructions, Savage Cinema was born and I will always be indebted to her.

Of course, my greatest thanks has to be given to my wife, Hollister as she has been quietly supportive of this venture by allowing me the space to write and compose and be as obsessive about this process as I need to be. Without that support being there, it would be too difficult to continue this at all.

Again, I sincerely and warmly thank ALL OF YOU for joining me on this ride. It would be worthless without you and I appreciate, without end, the grace of your presence. As I head into Year Two, expect more of the same: more reviews, more installments of my special series and most of all, the same passion that I hope has been evident from the beginning.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SAVAGE CINEMA!!!

Long may it run!!!

SAVAGE CINEMA REVISITS: "KRAMER VS. KRAMER" (1979)

"KRAMER VS. KRAMER' (1979)
Based upon the original novel by Avery Corman
Written for the Screen and Directed by Robert Benton

To say that I hated this movie when I first saw it would be an understatement.

I was 10 years old and well on my way through my life long cinematic journeys, utilizing the words and wisdom of the late, great Gene Siskel and the still great Roger Ebert as guiding sages in regards to discovering new film experiences top try and discover. There had to be more than Spielberg and Lucas and I was more than eager to learn. One evening, my parents and I took in a showing of Director Robert Benton’s family/divorce/legal drama “Kramer Vs. Kramer,” due to Siskel and Ebert’s glowing recommendations plus my strong desire to witness a film that was decidedly more provocative than my usual science fiction, action-adventure driven fare. And as I stated at the outset of this revisiting, I hated, hated, hated this movie more than I thought that I could possibly hate a movie.

Yes, it was an adult feature. Yes, I guess you could say that it was provocative, that is if “provocative” meant “boring.” But, what irritated me endlessly was the amount of crying on display, seemingly from one end of the film to another. The mother was crying. The father was crying. The neighbor lady was crying and for God’s sakes, that damn kid was constantly crying. Yes it was a sad movie with sad things occurring to sad people but for some reason, I could not wrestle one ounce of sympathy for these characters with all of their carrying on. It just made me sick and once it was all over, I was beside myself with disbelief that Siskel and Ebert could ever love such a thing.

Since I had become fairly astute with Awards seasons along with critical praise and rejection by this point in my life, I was more than aware that “Kramer Vs. Kramer” was receiving not only more than its fair share of endorsements but there almost seemed to be some sort of cultural significance attached to the experience that I could not understand (definitely due to my age, of course). When the film swept the Academy Awards that year by winning statuettes for Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Director and yes, Best Picture, I wanted to throw everything I owned at the television. I just didn’t get it and I didn’t want to get it. In fact, all I wanted to do was to forget it and move onwards into a new movie year with the cleanest of slates.

I began with that anecdote because over the past week, I found myself reacquainted with “Kramer Vs. Kramer” one very late night on a cable movie channel. As I sat there, I was surprised to find myself becoming deeply involved with what I was watching, especially as my initial feelings concerning the film in 1979 were as present as anything that I had experienced that day in 2010. I tried to resist it but I couldn’t. Due to the lateness of the hour, I found myself unable to say awake long enough to see the entire film, So, feeling curious, I rented it from my video store the following day and began to watch it from start to finish for the first time since my childhood.

For the uninitiated, as well as for those who may need a reminder, “Kramer Vs. Kramer” begins with the disintegrating marriage between Joanna Kramer (Meryl Streep), a housewife and Mother and Ted Kramer (Dustin Hoffman), an advertising executive. As the film opens, Joanna, shortly after tucking her six year old son Billy (Justin Henry) to bed for the evening, abruptly informs Ted of her departure and quickly exits from his life, also leaving behind their son, who is essentially a stranger to the workaholic Ted, thus forcing him to raise Billy alone.

Over the course of an 18 month period, Ted is confronted exactly with what it means to be a single Father as he and Billy slowly, painfully and eventually forge a strong relationship that is then threatened by the return of Joanna, now gainfully employed and armed with the full intent of reclaiming her son.

The cultural significance that was lost on me as a child was blindingly clear this time around, as "Kramer Vs. Kramer" takes place during the continued sexual revolution, where women's and men's roles where being drastically redefined. In the case of Joanna and Ted Kramer, we are given a woman unable to survive within certain sexual boundaries and Ted, being forced to re-examine his own boundaries and expectations he has set for himself and his family. Ted Kramer is a man who feels the most at home while at work and "Kramer Vs. Kramer" charts the course of his growth in discovering the exact same, and eventually, an even greater passion for his life as a nurturing caregiver for his son.

Beyond the cultural critique, as I viewed this film, what amazed me was the sense of compassion I felt for all of the characters, especially when I had none to begin with when I was 10. It was the level of compassion that comes simply from living life, and the building of personal experiences and connections with others. Life at 41 is obviously quite different than life at 10 and that very life experience informed my reaction and newfound appreciation of this film tremendously.

What could essentially be a melodramatic, inauthentic “movie-of-the-week” weepie, is actually an acutely perceptive and empathetic drama about people attempting to restructure their lives after a seismic emotional upheaval. In fact, “Kramer Vs. Kramer” is not really a smoothly driven narrative at all. It is actually more of a collection of vignettes, all demonstrating each step in the evolution of Ted Kramer from being a distant, impatient and unengaged Father to one who is nurturing, attentive, supportive and wholly loving. What made this enterprise work so successfully for me on this viewing was to notice exactly how Benton and his cast worked every aspect of the beautiful screenplay (which allowed for many moments of key improvisation) to discover every nugget of truth to each situation.

Concerning the relationship between Ted and Joanna, we are witnessing a love story, despite the nature of the film’s title and many of the film’s sequences, most notably the climactic courtroom sequence where layers exist to simply talk to each other and character assassination is par for the course. Underneath all of the anguish, rage, and sorrow, the love that initially brought them together remains and underlies every single moment in the film, even after the two have become divorced and moved on with their respective lives. What Ted and Joanna realize over and again is that their shared history doesn’t evaporate once the actual marriage is dissolved and the deepness of the reality continues to surprise and even upend them.

The short sequence when Joanna returns to share a glass of wine with Ted in a restaurant and alert him of her intentions to reclaim Billy oscillates effortlessly between longing, anxiousness, attraction and even violence. Yet, moments of contrition between the two exist as well. When Joanna is being cross examined on the witness stand and questioned whether she was a failure at the longest and most significant relationship in her life, she tearfully and somewhat absently glances at Ted, who silently mouths the word, “No.” And the film’s final words of dialogue between Ted and Joanna possess a fragility that suggest healing and resolution for this particular act of their intertwined lives.

But, if there is a love story in the film that carries greater weight and is even more powerful than the one between Ted and Joanna, it is the one between Ted and Billy. Forming the urgently beating heart of this film, the journey of Ted and Billy is a tumultuous road from tentative to committed is presented without a stitch of artifice or contrivance and I believe would be recognizable to any parent or person who has ever created a bond with a child.

Again, this relationship is presented as a series of snapshots moments which function as the building blocks of a growing union. There is the initial “French Toast sequence,” set the morning after Joanna’s departure, where a disheveled Ted attempts to cook breakfast for himself and his son. Benton pivots the sequences on a knife’s edge as it teeters from comedy to rage in a heartbeat, and all filtered through Hoffman’s completely assured performance which never lets up in intensity. A silent sequence in which Ted and Billy wordlessly sit and mirror each other’s confusion and anger while reading the morning newspaper is a graceful study of resentment.. The classic “ice cream sequence,” where Billy purposefully tests the resolve and patience of Ted is an explosive moment familiar to any adult who has been at their wit’s end with a child. And of course, there is the sequence where Billy falls from a playground jungle gym wile holding onto a model airplane. The safety of his eye is threatened and we are given a stunning unbroken shot of Ted, carrying Billy in his arms, racing on foot through traffic over an area of several blocks from the playground to the Emergency Room. It is an elegant and urgent depiction of a parent’s devotion to their child and mostly without copious amounts of dialogue.

Dustin Hoffman delivers a sensationally soulful performance that feels undeniably authentic, heartfelt and real. Watch his body language throughout the film, whether he is being dressed down by his superior at work, valiantly attempting to find new employment after a devastating lay off, how he smoothes the child’s hair or ties his shoe and try to not see the truth in all of those seemingly innocuous moments. Especially in several playground scenes with his friend and neighbor Margaret (Jane Alexander), watch how his body (and manner of clothing) gradually relaxes over the course of the film, reflecting a new state of mind and comfort with is new role as the primary emotional provider for Billy.

In the space of a mere 15 minutes of screen time Meryl Steep, in one of her earlier performances, presents the level of completeness that would become her trademark. It was fascinating to view exactly how no stone had been left unturned by Streep when it came to bringing this character to vibrant life and always elevating Joanna from simply being a monster for abandoning her child at the film’s start. In a way that seems obvious to me as an adult, and no way would I have eve picked up on this trait as a child, Joanna is mentally unstable and quite possibly, near suicidal at the beginning of the film. This aspect to the character makes the decision to leave Ted and Billy a heroic act, which places the needs of the child front and center. Her final decision at the film’s conclusion could also be seen as heroic as well and for the same reasons. Like Hoffman, Streep finds the truth in all of her brief scenes, making a character who resonates as we are all trying to piece together her motives.

Without maligning Mothers, “Kramer Vs. Kramer” is a cinematic rarity as it is a celebratory film about Fathers, a group that typically receives short shrift and ridicule in the movies. And furthermore, it is a film celebrating parents who try to do the right thing by their children.

As I watched, I could not help but to be reminded of a family I once worked with years ago. My student was a happily flamboyant four year old girl. So flamboyant that she was the type who would always arrive to school in some sort of costume, typically something with multi-colored wings. She also possessed a hysterical subversive side that captured my spirit as well, most notably on Halloween, when she arrived to school in regular clothes! This girl’s parents were divorced, and by the beginning of that school year, emotions between the two were still so brutally raw that they were barely able to speak with each other. But, the two somehow, someway devised a plan to keep the interests, security and happiness of their daughter placed ahead of their wounds and that plan involved a large black bag.

The black bag was to be placed in the girl’s cubby every day and it was to contain all of the pertinent school and life information the other parent needed to know upon pick up, therefore keeping both parents in the loop and fully informed. As this child’s teacher, I saw first hand that this girl wanted for nothing and both parents, regardless of who I happened to see on a given day, was completely up to date with the events and needs of the classroom.

The girl’s Father was a lawyer. Sadly, he happened to work for a legal firm that was highly unsympathetic to his parental responsibilities. Since the Mother had primary custody of the girl, the Father would often arrive to school to spend lunch time with his daughter—albeit lying to his firm in order to do so. He not only doted upon his child but made time for every child in the classroom that wanted to talk or play with him. My gut feelings informed me that this was no prefabricated presentation for my benefit. It was a real display of a Father needing to be present for is child, no matter what the cost to his livelihood.

By school year’s end, and in time for our second round of Parent/Teacher conferences, both Mother and Father, surprisingly—even to themselves—arrived together to discuss their daughter’s progress. The black bag still existed but at this stage, they were able to speak, and not through lawyers at that. The baby steps of healing had begun as well as the realization that they will remain in each other lives for the remainder of their lives just because they created a child and that they did once love each other. (Granted, I have not seen hide nor hair of this family since that school year but I am hoping that they have all advanced together as well as humanely possible.)

“Kramer Vs. Kramer” was defiantly in tune with all of those realities and it is the definition of a film that is emotionally honest. It understands the hard, necessary choices needed in order to effectively raise one’s child and even to raise oneself and how in the world could I have even grasped anything like that at the age of 10?!

Revisiting “Kramer Vs. Kramer” was a deeply enlightening, eye-opening, and entertaining experience for me that was actually as provocative, adult and artful as I wished for in 1979.

I just wasn’t ready for it.

AN INTRO TO SAVAGE CINEMA REVISITS

At the end of the year, a new series is born.

Dear readers, as I am about to head into a new year of cinematic musings for you, I came across an idea for a new series that would occasionally make its presence known. It is something that I have had in mind for quite some time but I just was not sure exactly what it could be or what identity it could have that would differentiate it from the main reviews, “Savage Cinema’s Buried Treasure” and “The Ones That Nearly Got Away.” (Now that my film archives are nearly depleted, it means the end of “Savage Cinema’s Short Takes“is near.)

This past week, while watching the film I am gearing up to write about, the idea finally arrived fully formed.

“Savage Cinema Revisits” is a new series where I will explore movies I have seen throughout my life that have taken on a new sort of significance. It may be a film I was initially confused by or even hated upon first viewing but now have grown to understand, appreciate and even love.

Or it may just be a film I have already loved and its artistry has grown with me and I want to share it with you and hopefully prompt you to check it out again or perhaps, even for the first time.

The premiere installment of this new series for you is a highly celebrated drama from the 1970s that I did happen to see during its original release but loathed. Now, that very film and my reaction to it is the inspiration for this new cinematic/literary adventure.

My dearest readers, I hope you enjoy it and I hope you join in the discussion.

It's no fun without you!

HIGH RISE DANCE WITH THE DEVIL: a review of "The Night Chronicles: Devil"

"THE NIGHT CHRONICLES: DEVIL"
Story by M. Night Shyamalan
Screenplay Written by Brian Nelson
Directed by John Erick Dowdle
** (two stars)

While cloying to some viewers, the spiritual themes and layers that exist inside of the films of M. Night Shyamalan have typically proven fruitful to me as they have broadened his work beyond simple thrills and chills into films that bear a stamp that is decidedly personal and individualized. While I will not go through the litany of his films and themes again as they have been housed elsewhere on Savage Cinema, I will say that I have enjoyed figuring out what Shyamalan has been attempting to communicate about himself and the way he sees the world through his work, which proudly wears its genre stylings on its proverbial sleeves.

In the tradition of “The Twilight Zone,” “The Outer Limits,” and “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” M. Night Shyamalan has now begun to carve out his own anthology series entitled “The Night Chronicles” of which “Devil” is the premiere installment. Yet, this time, Shyamalan has not written or directed this material as this series is designed for him to farm out his original story ideas to other filmmakers to full realize. As an opening into a new cinematic world presented by Shyamalan, “Devil” is a creative and decent enough first try but ultimately disappointing through a certain preachiness that undercuts the spiritual tension. And when we all know full well that Shyamalan can truly deliver the goods with the scares and the themes, .

Set in Philadelphia, as with nearly all of Shyamalan’s films, “Devil” takes place at a high-rise office building at which Detective Bowden (Chris Messina) is investigating a suicide that has occurred at this site that very morning. As Bowden pieces together certain clues and evidence, five characters enter an elevator simply preparing to go about their respective days. Our cast includes an obnoxious mattress salesman (Geoffrey Arend), a claustrophobic security guard (Bokeem Woodbine), a late middle-aged woman (Jenny O’Hara), a wealthy, sexy young woman (Bojana Novakovic), and a young Marine Corps veteran (Logan Marshall-Green).

After a few moments, the elevator ceases to move, thus trapping the five inside. The elevator inhabitants are on constant surveillance by the security team, which includes the religiously devout Ramirez (Jacob Vargas), who also occasionally narrates the film. And then…the lights go out inside of the elevator and the young woman is revealed to have been attacked by someone or…something! As the story continues, and the connections between the Detective and the elevator inhabitants are exposed, it has become more than likely that one of the people in the elevator is actually Satan and he has hungrily come to claim more damaged souls for his possession.

Now, I do have to say that this is an intriguing premise with an equally intriguing set-up. I really liked the idea of trapping five people inside of a cramped location for most of the film’s scant 80 minute running time. It allows the story to maintain a certain rigid focus and intensity while also potentially allowing the actors to have a grand time playing off of each other as they collectively raise the emotional stakes for the audience.

Much like Director Ridley Scott’s “Alien” (1979) or even Director John Carpenter’s remake of “The Thing” (1982), “Devil” is a haunted house type of film with characters meeting their respective ends one by one. And while Shyamalan did not write or direct this film with his own hand, his influence and sensibilities are all over the screen, especially through the themes of forgiveness and damnation on display. Dowdle keeps the film moving along briskly while Nelson’s screenplay effectively expresses Shyamalan’s other key theme of having others, either actual beings or forces, walking around the Earth with us.

Yet, somehow, “Devil” is surprisingly not very scary at all. Granted, as I have previously written, I am not typically a fan of horror films as I tend to enjoy pursuits that are more psychological and suspenseful. The scares are not gore driven and I did like how much of the tension existed in the very things that cannot be seen as well as through sudden sound effects and quick glimpses at previously unseen terrors. But, that said, it never burrowed under my skin in the least and considering that the threat is nothing less than the Prince Of Darkness himself, “Devil” was highly disappointing.

Perhaps since Shyamalan did not write the actual screenplay himself, it lacked a certain subtlety that is usually present in his work and does tend to sneak its way into some of our primal fears. Like the concepts of communication in “The Sixth Sense” (1999) and interconnectivity in “Signs” (2002), nearly all of the film’s characters share certain connections, like the damaged souls from “Lost” who find each other in a location that defies escape. And while those connections are fully revealed by the film’s climax, I found the film’s narration to be a bit too “connect the dots” for my tastes. Also, the religious allegory is a bit too heavy handed as well as I would have preferred the parable to have, again, a tad more subtlety, which I think would have made the film much more frightening. And then, there’s the identity of the titular devil, of course I will not spoil here, but I will admit that it is a revelation that is also a little too easy to spot.

But, most of all, “Devil” is yet another case where the film’s coming attractions trailer made for a better motion picture experience than the full length film. Like the trailers for F. Gary Gray’s “The Italian Job”(2003), Steven Soderbergh’s “The Informant!” (2009) and Jim Sheridan’s “Brothers” (2009), the powers that be who create those particular coming attractions seemed to obtain a grasp and presentation of the material that eclipsed the main filmmakers in charge. And beyond that, those people told those film’s respective stories in almost their entirety, in a mere fraction of the time as well, which unfortunately undercuts the main event severely. In the case of “Devil,” which is short enough, it certainly didn’t need to have the proverbial carpet swept out from under it by a trailer but I think that it did. Oh well…

2010 has not been a good year for M. Night Shyamalan as he has weathered the creative storms of his noble and ambitious misfire “The Last Airbender” and now this somewhat lackluster debut entry into a potentially new anthology series. As I stated this past summer, I remain a fan of Shyamalan and will not board the train of those who exist to bash him. He tells stories in a way that appeals greatly to my sensibilities and I will continue to root for his grand return.

But, he had better rebound quickly and the dark forces of Hollywood may soon resist any stories he may wish to share.

SAVAGE CINEMA'S BURIED TREASURE #8: "MY KID COULD PAINT THAT" (2007)

The following is a newly extended version of a review that was originally written December 2007 and was inspired by my recent viewing/review of "Exit Through The Gift Shop."

"MY KID COULD PAINT THAT" (2007)
Written, Produced and Directed by Amir Bar-Lev

To paraphrase the most insightful words of a cautious journalist in the film, this is NOT a movie about a child, but one about grownups.

For eleven years, I taught at a preschool which utilized an unorthodox Italian educational curriculum that essentially functioned as child directed, inquiry based learning. It was a teaching philosophy that I thoroughly enjoyed as it opened up the concept of education in ways I had not previously been able to comprehend. No two years were ever the same. Nothing was rote. Every experience was unique to each individual class of children, making every experience a journey as well as shared between the children and the teachers. In cinematic terms, it was like watching every movie in my life on a television and then I went into a movie theater. In my mind, there was no going back to solely experiencing education in the traditional American ways.

That said and despite my love for this teaching philosophy, I understood completely that this method was exactly what it said it was: a philosophy, i.e. something designed to be examined, discussed and interpreted.

In the latter section of those 11 years, I found myself becoming increasingly troubled at how this philosophy was asked to be utilized by the school’s administration. Teachers were being demanded to have some sort of child-directed project occurring within their classrooms frequently ad seemingly for the purpose of said project to be properly documented and detailed for public presentation in the school hallways. These presentations were then used as selling points for prospective families searching for a high quality, forward thinking preschool experience. Some teachers, like myself, felt pressured and uncomfortable with having to essentially to force children to produce a product when the goal of the philosophy was to celebrate the process.

By the end of my tenure, the entire proceedings just felt wrong to me. It felt dishonest. In fact, to me, it felt worse than dishonest. It felt like a commercial of the most disingenuous kind because what is the point of having this philosophy at your disposal if you are not allowed the opportunity for it to be organic, meaningful and real?

In December 2007, less than one year before I eventually departed this school, I took in a screening of “My Kid Could Paint That,” an excellent documentary by filmmaker Amir Bar-Lev, which illustrated those feelings I was having so perfectly, while also being a stimulating and challenging mystery.

The film revolves around 4-year-old Marla Olmstead, who lives in upstate New York with her parents, Mark and Laura, and younger brother Zane. Mark is an amateur painter with failed ambitions of being a working artist. Noticing his daughter’s interest with his art materials and tools, he gives her a canvas and paints to work with and discovers that Marla is a natural talent. Things progress innocently enough as a family friend who owns a coffeehouse offers to hang one of Marla’s paintings inside the shop. The painting catches the inquiring eye of a customer, who unexpectedly offers to buy the painting for a large sum of money. Meanwhile, another family friend, who happens to own an art gallery, offers to promote and debut a collection of Marla’s artwork. The story of Marla and her natural talent catches the attention of a local news reporter whose subsequent article is then picked up by the New York Times which then alerts a much wider audience to Marla’s paintings.

Marla’s celebrity status begins to rise astronomically with greater art shows, global media attention and customers worldwide, enraptured with the work of a small child, willing to pay upwards of $300,000 per painting.

And then, Charlie Rose and the crew of "60 Minutes II" comes calling.

Arriving with the intent to create a profile on Marla Olmstead and her work, it is through their their patented investigative journalism that a questionable hole is poked through the balloon of Marla’s fame and fortune. Were her paintings in fact doctored by her ambitious Father, thus nullifying the purity of the work? Is Marla Olmstead a fraud? Was she utilized as a puppet by the adults in her life? And even deeper, can the paintings even be considered art if she didn’t create them herself, by her own little hands and supposedly innate talent and skill?

"My Kid Could Paint That" is a completely absorbing documentary that not only debates the nature of modern art and our societal desire for something of untainted value, it also is a prime example of our "build-it-up-tear-it-down" culture with a 4-year-old child at the center of the vortex. While much about the validity of the child's art has come into question (and it is covered heavily within this film) for me, the film was less about the validity of the artist but about the validity of the adult's intentions that surround her.

Bar-Lev creates his own investigative canvas, which sometimes includes himself, to explore portraits of two men, Marla’s Father and the gallery owner/family friend, who are most likely living their respective dreams of fame and fortune through this unsuspecting child. Additionally, for the gallery owner, Marla’s art and fame offers him the chance to gain access into the larger world of modern art, a world in which he was previously denied access through his own artworks. A stunning sequence late in the film works almost as a moment of confession as the gallery owner not only exhibits his contempt for the exclusionary modern art world but explains that through Marla, he has found his linchpin to gain entry for himself while also flicking his middle finger in its face.

But for me, the most compelling persona in the film happens to be Marla’s Mother, Laura Olmstead. Throughout he film, Laura possesses the sole voice of reason, skepticism and caution concerning the level of attention Marla is receiving, the enormous amounts of money being lavished upon the family, and the potential adverse effects this experience would have upon Marla and even, the younger child Zane, who appears to be all but ignored within the context of this film. Yet, do Laura’s actions belie her concerns?

Yes, from the moment Marla’s first painting was hung in the coffeeshop through the “60 Minutes II” interview, I can concede that these events moved at the velocity of a freight train. Protective concerns or not, situations and opportunities seemed to be too advantageous and arose too quickly to be debated that much, let alone seriously considered deeply enough. But, look at Laura’s decision making process after the “60 Minutes II” interview, when it seemed that the whirlwind media adventures had, at last, ceased…something she had secretly been hoping for in the first place. While I will not spoil as I really, really want for you to see this film for yourselves, Laura Olmstead drew me in the deepest and the film’s final moments even led me to even larger issues for Marla.

I could no help but to wonder as I watched is how they will explain this time to this child as she ages. What happens to you when, ion some ways, you have peaked at the age of 4? What happens when she is 12? 15? 20? Perhaps she will turn out just fine but early fame has derailed more than its share of individuals, especially younger individuals and as Laura tearfully wonders what she has done to her family by allowing this unique adventure to occur, I wondered the exact same thing.

"My Kid Could Paint That," with its easily accessible 80 minute running time, is as involving and as complex as a tightly wound thriller. This film is highly recommended and it is well worth seeking out.

POP ART WILL EAT ITSELF: a review of "Exit Through The Gift Shop"

"EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP"
Directed by Banksy
**** (four stars)

The subjectivity of art is labyrinthine, cyclical, confounding, perplexing, and bottomless. To paraphrase the classic saying regarding one’s response to art, one person’s perception of trash is another person’s perception of the most glorious art to grace his or her eyes. In “Exit Through The Gift Shop,” the exuberant and exhilarating new documentary, supposedly directed by the elusive and unseen street artist known simply as “Banksy” (more on that later), we are graced with a film that is as labyrinthine, cyclical, confounding, perplexing, and bottomless about its subjects as it is about the nature of art itself. It is not only and easily one of the year’s best films, it is an astoundingly entertaining and fascinating trip through the wires of a man, with desires of being a filmmaker who ultimately becomes a famous street artist but actually may simply be a delusional, manipulative fraud.

“Exit Through The Gift Shop” opens upon the shrouded and electronically voice altered figure of Banksy, who confesses to the audience that the film we are about to view was originally intended to be about him but in turn, it has become about an individual who just may be a much more interesting subject. After that admonition, we are quickly introduced to eccentric French immigrant and Los Angeles resident Thierry Guetta, husband, Father, vintage clothing shop owner and compulsive videographer who possesses obsessive notions of actually being a filmmaker as he documents every single aspect of his life onto videotapes he never, ever watches after he completes them.

Throughout his cinematic pursuits while jaunting through France, he eventually decides to capture the work of his cousin, a street artist known as Space Invader (due to his artwork of recreating tile art versions of the classic video game characters), a choice which then leads Thierry into the expansive underground nighttime world of graffiti artists. Thierry’s enthusiasm and eagerness to document the work of artists whose endeavors are demolished as quickly as they are created, ingratiates him to this unique collective. Soon, doors are opened to for Thierry to document the work of more recognized talents for a proposed documentary about street artists, most notably Shepherd Fairey (known for his Andre the Giant inspired “OBEY” artwork plus the now iconic pop art image of the President Barack Obama “HOPE” poster).

As Thierry compiles tape after tape after tape of more footage, knowing fully well that he does not intend or have the wherewithal to ever create the finished product of something such as a documentary, he cannot help himself but to attempt to locate and interview the most mysterious figure within the world of street artists, the internationally known Banksy. This secretive artist, who has been known to inject his own subversive artwork directly in between the paintings at world famous museums, like the Museum Of Modern Art, is Thierry’s “golden goose.” Through a series of events, the two men meet, form a tentative friendship and partnership where for the first time, Banksy has allowed someone outside of his formal circle to document his process.

From this point, we are shown the premiere of Banksy’s Los Angeles Skid Row debut of his art show, “Barely Legal,” the reveal of Thierry’s undisciplined, headache inducing documentary "Life Remote Control," and his subsequent reinvention as a street artist known as Mr. Brainwash. Throughout the proceedings, and through Banksy's cinematic eye, we are able to view precisely how the cyclical nature of art continuously redefines itself and how the ones who were once artistically ignored suddenly rise up to become the gatekeepers who then artistically ignore the new breed.

In its scant 87 minute running time, “Exit Through The Gift Shop,” covers a mammoth amount of conceptual ground which I think will and should encourage equally mammoth discussions and debates about art. First, it is a film that explores the legitimization of an art form that is, by its nature, designed to be illegitimate. If the gatekeepers of the modern art world look upon street artists as nothing more than mere vandals, it fascinated me tremendously to see how this collective of so-called vandals, these “ghosts” in the art world, strongly desired that their work was not only seen by the public but that they would also desire a level of recognition and notoriety for themselves as well.

With the arrival of Thierry and his eventual transformation into Mr. Brainwash, it became equally fascinating to witness the street artist community’s own transformation from the ridiculed to the new gatekeepers. Ones who now get to determine the legitimacy, nature and rules for others. To see how their acceptance of Thierry when he was a fan changes to levels of disdain, irritation, rejection and disgust once he becomes a contemporary in the eyes of the public but also within Thierry’s own mind was spellbinding to me.

Continuing with the cyclical theme is the film’s central relationship between Thierry and Banksy, two compulsively watchable characters who are also engaging storytellers. Yes, we hear tales about their exploits, as if they are artistic partners in crime, especially a great anecdote set at Disneyland where Banksy deposited a Guantanamo Bay themed piece of three-dimensional art inside one of the rides while Thierry silently filmed. But, how the twosome eventually switch their respective artistic roles provided the film with extra and almost exciting narrative juice. Thierry is the would-be filmmaker who metamorphoses into a would-be artist while Banksy the artist becomes the filmmaker, all the way to directing this film and both transformation are essentially through means of artistic robbery. Thierry’s somewhat completed documentary is usurped by Banksy, who deems it a failure, but then Thierry usurps Banksy’s entire career by utilizing every single technique Banksy taught to him. “Exit Through The Gift Shop” is a tale of two thieves, compellingly and smartly told.

Above all of the colorful personalities lies the grandest questions of all: What is art and can anyone make art? This notion of who is able to create art combined with the themes of theft raced through my head as I watched and it made me think about all forms of artistic expression and how there is always a bit of thievery and pilfering involved. If you take a side step into the world of music for instance, what would Elvis Presley or The Rolling Stones be without the blues? Frankly, neither would have ever recorded a single note, in my opinion. What about hip-hop culture with its usage of samples and creating works that are built from pre-existing material that was composed from thin air by others? Is that art? When I listen to Public Enemy's "Fear Of A Black Planet" (1990), De La Soul's "3 FT High and Rising" (1989) or DJ Shadow's "Endtroducing..." (1996), it is a resounding "YES!" But, with Puff Daddy or P. Diddy or whatever he is calling himself, uh....nope!

In the world of “Exit Through The Gift Shop,” when Banksy takes a pre-existing image and manipulates it to infuse his own sensibilities and Thierry does the same thing, (albeit through a team of people he hires to do the work for him while claiming the credit for himself a la the mythical Tom Sawyer), why is Bansky’s work considered art and Thierry’s not? And what of the people who know nothing of either men and see the work freshly? How do their perceptions inform and validate the work of both men? The amount of money spectators spend to possess the work also increases the value of the art in question but why? If mass sums of money make that large of a difference concerning artistic value, then what makes a prefabricated piece from Mr. Brainwash any different than a Picasso?

And what of Thierry? Is he a manic fool, living through the lives of other’s work like a sycophant or is he some sort of a savant?

Take the name of “Mr. Brainwash.” Is that identity Thierry’s entire position to pull one over on the public and the street artists? Is Thierry literally brainwashing us all or is it just dumb luck that he even had one show in the first place? Then, there is the matter “Life Remote Control,” the 90 minute feature delivered to Banksy for viewing. The film itself, of which 14 minutes can be seen as a special feature on the DVD, is an audio/visual disaster. To my eyes, it was an aimless collage of sights and sounds but at the same time, the first thought that came to my mind when I saw the footage was The Beatles’ sound collage “Revolution #9” from “The White Album” (1968). I remember first hearing that song as a child and hating every moment of it because there was absolute nothing within the nearly nine minute piece that resembled a song in the least. Every time I listened to the album, I would get up and move the record needle past the song or back to the beginning of side four, avoiding it altogether. But then, several adults in my life, from relatives to teachers would profess the high artistic value of “Revolution #9,” a belief that would force me to revisit it every so often and now it has reached the point where I agree with those people and could not, in any way imagine that album without that piece. Certainly I have changed over the years but did the song change? When did this change, from trash to art and why?

With Thierry’s movie, it seemed obvious to me that “Life Remote Control” was a voyage through his ADD addled mind and since the film represented himself, is that not a real representation of art even if it is terrible?

And even beyond everything I have written about, there are questions hovering around this film that suggests that perhaps the whole thing is some sort of elaborate hoax. That perhaps Thierry and the unseen Banksy just may be one and the same or that the film itself is one grandly designed piece of art and not a documentary at all. I don’t know and in some respects, I really don’t care terribly much because what we do have with “Exit Through The Gift Shop” is something that forces us all to question and explore the inherent truth and lies about art and the ones who create. In many ways, this film reminded me of Director Amir Bar-Lev’s extraordinary 2007 documentary “My Kid Could Paint That,” which explored the controversy surrounding the validity and fame of then four-year-old artistic prodigy Marla Olmstead. Both films are about the intentions that revolve around the work itself and how our perceptions inform artistic value.

As far as I am concerned, whether this film was truthful or a complete farce, “Exit Through The Gift Shop” and the wheel of art it examined was an experience unlike any I have had with the movies this year and I implore you to race to your local video store to check it out.

I am anxiously awaiting the discussions we can have about it.