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Head count

The 'Fesser passed along a link to perhaps the most, um, inspired Summer Movie Preview I've seen yet. [OK, it's tied with MTV's haikus.] It comes from the sinister genius that is The Face Knife, who had me at "The only way yesterday could have gotten more twee is if I were wearing mittens and holding hands with Jonathan Richman."

Basically, this Summer Movie Comparison Chart asks the tough questions, among them the following

• Age Inappropriate Casting?
• Amputations?
• Is there a dog?
• Is there a god?
• Is someone tied to a chair or other piece of furniture and tortured?

Oh, yes, and there are footnotes, like this gem: "By my count, 2 onscreen beheadings, 5 implied beheadings, one character with all four limbs removed while alive, 2 characters who get their hands chopped off, the implied dismemberment of 4 corpses, and a radical wangectomy, if the wang should count as a limb." Yeah, buddy. Big if.

Do check it out.

Koch: Resisting the embrace of Morpheus

In this week's installment of the cinematic musings of Ed "How'm I doin'?" Koch, the new Korean cinema leaves him cold, but a certain documentary has him mad and hot.

3-Iron
This Korean film is bizarre and boring. In his New York Times review, A.O. Scott came to a different conclusion, writing:  "Like his last film, the Korean Buddhist pastoral Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring, which enjoyed a successful American run last year, this one is an accessible pop parable, pleasingly mysterious without being too difficult and a little gimmicky but not annoyingly so."

The story involves a street guy, Tae-suk (Jae Hee), who breaks into the homes of people who are away and lives there until they return. On one occasion, he breaks into the home occupied by a couple. The wife, Sun-hwa (Lee Seung-yeon), is the unhappy marriage partner of an abusive husband. For a while, Sun-hwa and Tae-suk live together. He protects her and assaults her husband. He breaks into other homes and is ultimately jailed. His relationship to the jailers defies credibility.

The movie becomes more difficult to accept. Reality and the surreal are combined. For me, it made no sense, and I lost all interest in the film, resisting the embrace of Morpheus for the balance of the movie. I really believe it is a put on by the director, Kim Ki-duk. Was Scott right or was I insufficiently accepting and lost the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures afforded? Scott was wrong, so don’t waste your time.

Then, Ed gets "slinky."

Mad Hot Ballroom
This delightful movie should be shown in every American school auditorium, particularly in New York City's public schools. It will make every student feel good and every parent feel proud. The people who conceived the idea of putting ballroom dancing into the elementary school curriculum at the fifth-grade level are geniuses.

The schools covered in the documentary are located in TriBeCa and Washington Heights in Manhattan and another in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. The students are overwhelmingly Hispanic but include whites, blacks and Asians. They are uninhibited, smart beyond belief, and witty and knowledgeable in their comments on life, which appear to be unrehearsed. The dances, which include the Fox Trot, Rumba, Tango and Swing, are wonderful to behold. One movement referred to as "slinky" is performed gracefully and sensually without carnality or smirk by a young member of the Indigo team. He, with his wonderful smile, is priceless to watch. The various dance teams, distinguished by their different colored sashes, are made up of both clunky and masterful dancers. One street-smart Dominican girl yells to her classmates, "Remember, it's attitude." Proper carriage, presence and aplomb are definitely needed to win.

The theater audience, myself included, gave the film a roar of applause when it ended, and we were all beaming when we left the theater. Never have I felt more secure about the future of our children and the success of the public schools than I did after seeing this movie. Give the kids a chance and they will make it. It is also nice that the test results showing great advancement in the fourth grade throughout the public schools were announced within two weeks of the opening of the movie.

Thanks, as always, to Carlos for passing along these gems.

We rob banks

Cue the Serge Gainsbourg [or the Luna]. Seventy-one years ago today, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow bit the bullet in Shreveport, Lousiana. You can check out the original New York Times story about the infamous bank-robbing pair's demise, but be warned, it makes for pretty grim reading:

While the wheels of the wrecked machine still whirled, the officers, taking no chances with the gunman who had tricked them so often, poured another volley of bullets into the machine.

Both Died Holding Guns

A moment later the uproar in the otherwise peaceful countryside spot had subsided and the officers swarmed over to the car. They found that Barrow and Bonnie had died with weapons in their hands, prepared to kill at the slightest alarm. The woman was crumpled up on the seat, her head between her knees and a machine gun in her lap. Barrow, a smear of red, wet rags, had been clutching a sawed-off shotgun in one hand as he drove.

Hey, why not make it an evening of pistol-packing dames in berets and watch Bonnie and Clyde tonight [after Tania, natch]? That hail of bullets looks a lot more operatic through Arthur Penn's viewfinder, even if it did get Time magazine in a bit of a swivet--and Pauline Kael loved it [although the review, which made her famous, is not available as part of the New Yorker's Film File. Pity].

Documamas

Ladies and gentlemen, set your DVRs. It's Ladies Night for documentaries not once but twice this week as two fine nonfiction films make their television debuts.

First up, tonight at 9 p.m., our embattled friends at PBS present Guerilla: The Taking of Patty Hearst. The site is, as usual, rich with extras, including a timeline and a gallery of photos from the Hibernia Bank Robbery that introduced Tania and the SLA to the world. But the best feature by far is "What's Your Bag?" an interactive quiz that lets you determine where you fall on the spectrum between counterculture and the Establishment, man.

And then, on Thursday night, also at 9 p.m., the fine people at A&E will broadcast one of the cinetrix's favorite films from this year's Full Frame Documentary Film Festival, Barbara Kopple's Bearing Witness. If you visit the A&E site here, you too can see the eyepatched excellence that is Marie Colvin.

So, fuck the network series finales. You'll have all summer to catch up.

Zut alors!

Miranda July just picked up the Camera d'Or at Cannes for Me and You and Everyone We Know! Hot damn!

The man speaks in pullquotes

Guess which director said the following:

"Making a film is a beautiful mystery," X says. "You go deep into the wood, and you don't want to come out of that wood, but the time is coming very soon when I will have to."

"For me, there's no way back to film. I'm done with it," X says. "I love abstraction. Film is a beautiful medium, but it's very slow and you don't get a chance to try a lot of different things. With DV, you get those chances. And in post-production, if you can think it, you can do it."

"The explaining of things in words is always a huge problem," X confesses.

Why, it's none other than David Lynch, the man who once booted Peter Wolf from their shared apartment for keeping odd hours and being too weird. [True! I heard it on an NPR interview with Wolf.] Apparently, Ol' Eraserhead's been working on a new film with StudioCanal on the sly for the past two years. It's called Inland Empire, but what's it about?

"It's about a woman in trouble, and it's a mystery, and that's about all I want to say about it," he comments diffidently.

Aren't they all? [Thanks to Maximus for the tip.]

All the old dudes

As part of Variety's ongoing Cannes coverage, Todd McCarthy takes a look at some of the very familiar names [no, it wasn't just you] in competition this year:

David Cronenberg, Jim Jarmusch, Wim Wenders, Hou Hsiao Hsien, Gus Van Sant, Atom Egoyan, Lars von Trier -- these are the same guys we were seeing in Cannes and other festivals back when the first George Bush was president. Last year, festival artistic director Thierry Fremaux even declared an out-with-the-old, in-with-the-new policy, famously rejecting Mike Leigh's "Vera Drake," which went on to triumph in Venice.

The question, then, was whether these graying directors (well, Jarmusch has always been gray) would be able to deliver the goods again after some unencouraging recent efforts.

The answer to that is, better middle-aged masters than none at all, for the implication lying at the heart of Fremaux's reversal of policy is that there were precious few films by young directors this year that warranted a slot in the competition.

...Time will tell, but at the moment I am willing to believe that there simply aren't any -- or, at any rate, many -- other finished first-rate films hidden under rocks around the world that would have transformed Cannes 2005 into a vastly more satisfying festival. I certainly wouldn't envy anyone the onerous task of sifting through the candidates to find one.

It's an interesting think piece, and well worth a read. You can find the whole thing here.

A moveable feast

If you're going to be in Manhattan after Memorial Day Weekend, do make sure to set aside some time for the NY AV Project. Here's the skinny:

From south to north, sunrise to sunset, over the week of May 30th through June 5th of this year, an audio-video mapping of the city will be presented along the entire length of Manhattan. A container inscribed with information about the city and pulled by a truck will travel the length of the line Broadway creates up the island, as a cross section through the city and a cross section through time. This moving installation, which inhabits the island, will be grounded each day of the seven-day cycle at a different park or square along the trajectory of Broadway, through the city, to allow its inhabitants in passing to enter and experience a day in the history of the city four years ago, when the footage viewed inside was collected.

The cinetrix was fortunate enough to get a sneak peak at that container. It's very cool, not at all like this ominous crate. For New Yorkers, especially, NY AV is like a cinematic time machine. You may just catch a glimpse of your four-years-younger self.

NY AV--coming soon to a corner near you:

    Monday May 30th – Bowling Green (Battery Pl.-Morris St.)
    Tuesday May 31st – Union Square (14th-17th St.)
    Wednesday June 1st – Dante Park (63rd St.)
    Thursday June 2nd – Strauss Square (106th St.)
    Friday June 3rd – Montefiore Square (138th St.)
    Saturday June 4th – Mitchel Square (166th - 168th St.)
    Sunday June 5th – Fort Tryon Park (Hillside Ave.)

Obscene finger gestures from such a pristine girl

This is the danger of setting oneself up as a Manohla watcher. When it all becomes too much, and you try and look away, you know, out of politeness or something, the whole day is spent fielding "Did you see her latest?" queries.

Well, I did, which I reproduce for you here in [painful, excruciating] full:

How Is Cannes Like High School?
True but embarrassing: Cannes is, in some major respects, a replay of high school. So many of the same issues and agonies apply here. Just as in high school, a lot of people sit together at the screenings in cliques. There are posses of Austrian and British critics here, and of course various Americans, many of whom either sit right next to one another or in close proximity. (I have repeated my old high school habit of floating clique to clique, though last year I also started intentionally sitting apart from everyone I know, mostly because I don't want to listen to my friends sigh and whisper their way through films that I like.) And, just like in high school, there is a lot of worry about parties: Did you get into that party? Why wasn't I invited to that party? And, well, that party totally stunk anyway, so who cares? There are feuds and (small) fights, cool kids (J. Hoberman) and geeks (where to begin?), late nights and early mornings, illicit cigarettes and too many drinks. Regression sets in early here and lingers; by the end of the festival's ten days, you are definitely crying for your mama.

So, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the rest of the play? See any movies at that-thar film festival?

Of course, I liked the original better:

Dear Mr. Vernon: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it is we did wrong, but we think you're crazy for making us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.

The cinetrix just keeps telling herself, "Only three more days..."

Please kill me

The cinetrix has been trying, in vain, to lay off the New York Times's Cannes Journal "blog," but there are so many provocations. Here's the latest in the perils of Pauline moanings of Manohla:

Yesterday was kind of a bust, hence the near-absence of any "blogging." I got shut out of the 8:30 a.m. press screening for the Jarmusch, which was a drag. (This is the first time I've ever been shut out of a morning press screening.) I showed up before 8:30, but there was a mob of far pushier and taller people who I just couldn't elbow past. I kept thinking about how if I were younger and wearing spike heels, as I used to do once upon a punk time, I could have dug my heels into everyone else's feet on my way toward my goal. By the time I finally did squeeze to the front, the publicist was pulling select people out of the mob. But since he didn't know me and because I am far too embarrassed to yell "New York Times," I remained behind. I'll see the Jarmusch today at the second press screening or so I hope.

Heh. "Blogging" is right. She's got the excuse-making part down. Otherwise, I got three words for ya, MD. Ah, but which three? Some candidates:

• travel alarm clock
• wake up call
• steel toe clogs

I mean, is she trying to get fired? Too embarrassed to yell "New York Times"? Then what are they paying you for? Perhaps the Paris bureau chief can come yell it for you? Or one of your other critic pals could block for you?

Speaking honestly, Manohla's posts have been just the sort of accounts the cinetrix might file--with friends. But I can't think this woe-is-me litany is what readers who would kill to be at Cannes want to experience vicariously.