SXSW.08: This Is What Filmmaking Is All About

Benny & Josh Safdie

Man, I really like the Safdie's. I remember seeing Josh's short, We're Going to the Zoo, at SXSW last year. I also just recently saw Benny's short at Slamdance in January. What's really great about these guys is their natural eye for beautiful shots. They shoot on film--16mm no less--which is refreshing and daunting at the same time. In The Pleasure of Being Robbed, I found myself falling for Josh and his friend Eleanor, as they steal a Volvo and take a long drive to Josh's apartment. Even though I should probably be upset with the moral character of these two, I can't help but find them innocent and lovely.

There's a beautiful scene where Eleanor frolics with a man in a polar bear suit in a river. It could have been silly, but the film literally dances along the screen, in rhythm with the river and the trees. Josh Safdie's eye for cinematography is calculated and capricious at the same time. It's this sort of filmmaking that inspires me to make films myself.

The beauty in The Pleasure of Being Robbed isn't in the story or the dialogue or the setting. The narrative or moral conundrum is really arbitrary, with perspective for the whole scheme of things. It's all of the visual matter that holds everything together--and if that isn't pleasurable, I don't know what is.

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Matthew Lessner

Matthew Lessner recently emailed me this marvelous picture of himself (he's the dude). Along with several others, he was chosen to judge the shorts competition this year at SXSW (his short By Modern Measure played last year).

One film in particular really blew me away. Glory At Sea is an amazing narrative which takes an entirely different look at tragedy. The film deals with flooding in New Orleans, but it's almost a Outopia ("no place"). The dramatic element of the film isn't specifically limited to those who have suffered losses due to natural catastrophes. Instead, it's very human and corporeal. It's almost as if you can reach out and grab it.

There were some intense under water shots that boasted a whole new, peaceful world. It was really surreal for me and difficult to comprehend how I was feeling after-the-fact, but the enticement of the film is still a sparkle in my eye. It's spiritual and noble and true and bold. Somehow, for me, it was both highly--and necessarily--ambitious, yet subtly quixotic at the same time. A quest of a film that mounts on the absurd in a romantic way that casts off any doubt that the events in the film are really happening. As utterly believable as Eleanor and her polar bear, I truly found myself in an under water graveyard, surrounded by hopeful and glorious individuals with Glory At Sea.

SXSW.08 Docs: Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie, Woodpecker, & Of All The Things

Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie was totally miscategorized this year at SXSW. Thrown into the 'Round Midnight category (a category reserved for all things horrific and scary), NYTBM tells the tale of two Bigfoot believers, Dallas Gilbert and Wayne Burton. Throughout the film, we see all sorts of research techniques--rarely scientific.

This isn't a hybrid documentary, and you certainly never see the elusive mythical beast. Instead, you find yourself absorbed in the lives of two close friends who are following the American Dream--a prevailing theme in many decent documentaries--however screwed up and silly it all seems to be.

The film is not deep or meaningful; nor is it inspirational or really even all that informative. But for some reason, I was momentarily charmed and mildly interested by the subject matter. This story doesn't need to be told, but I'm certainly happy to have spent the hour or so listening to it.

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Okay, so Alex Karpovsky's Woodpecker isn't really a documentary. It's considered a hybrid documentary--in this case, perfectly defined by the film's synopsis: "From its documentary underpinnings to its narrative arc, all truth becomes subjective in this existential tragicomedy about hope, perception, and some very very strange birds."

The problem with most hybrid documenteries, mockumenteries, and other films of that ilk, is that, by and large, the film's narrative suffers, due to the fact that the documentary portion of the film is largely unbelievable, or simply badly written. Generally, I don't have a whole lot to say about these types of films. In Karpovsky's case, however, I was more than charmed or interested--I was sutured in and completely willing to go along for the ride.

The story takes place in the Arkansas bayou, where we follow fictional characters, Jonny and Wes, in search of the real Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, a bird thought to be extinct. The dynamic between Jonny, the outspoken goof ball, and his silent sidekick, Wes, is crack-up funny and really fun to watch. At one point we see Jonny tarred and feathered, in an effort to scare off a crazy environmentalist (who doesn't recycle).

Karpovsky takes us in and out of reality and I found myself not really knowing what was real and what wasn't. More importantly, I didn't quite care. The story stands on its own merit. A beautifully shot sequence where Wes travels alone to a local roller rink is just good filmmaking. And that's really what makes this film work.

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Of All The Things tells the story of singer/songwriter, Dennis Lambert, a man who doesn't have a Wikipedia article yet has managed to write some of the greatest pop songs of all time (e.g., "Rhinestone Cowboy," "Ain't No Woman (Like The One I've Got)," and "We Built This City"). And, apparently, he's frickin' huge in the Philippines. His one chart-bottoming album, Bags and Things--a complete failure in the United States--was a pinnacle success in the Philippines. Oddly enough, Lambert was only recently informed of this phenomena by a pop disc jockey in the country. This documentary takes us on Lambert's tour of the Philippines, even after giving up the music business altogether (Lambert is now living in Boca Raton and serving as a luxury real estate agent).

I don't like the titular song "Of All The Things" at all. In fact, I didn't really like any of the songs I heard Lambert sing throughout the film. But the story of this guy is amazing. That he's been a huge sensation in the Philippines for so many years now, coupled with the fact that he only recently found out about it, and in response, packed up and toured the country, is really a fantastic undertaking. The film inspires by telling an informative, heartfelt story of successful re-emergence and the positive vibe on a small family, and also a fairly large country.

SXSW.08: Wrap Up, "Burger Hut" Trailers, Yeast

Purposeful graffiti in the Epoch Coffeehouse, Austin, TX
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The city of Austin, TX has seen rapid growth and prosperity in the last few years. Part of that falls between March 7th and March 17th of each year. The South By Southwest Film, Interactive and Music Festival has seen the same exponential growth as the city itself. I remember last year's festival being amazingly jammed (especially when the film & interactive portions were fading into music). This year, however, has been a staunch increase. According to a local bartender, his restaurant has averaged one-thousand more dollars a day during the festival than last year.

Keeping that in mind, I've tried to stay off the beaten path these last few days. When the music guys come in--due to the extremely large influx of people--the whole vibe of the festival changes. The days seem to get hotter; the streets trashier; the venues louder.

In general, I did a lot less partying and gallivanting--and even movie going--in exchange for intimate discussions in relatively quiet atmospheres. I also spent a great deal of time walking. As many of you already know, I broke my collar bone while snowboarding in Keystone, so I couldn't drive to the festival. Instead, I flew one-way and have been experimenting with various forms of public transportation. All-in-all a positive for the environment, but not so much for convenience. Tomorrow, I'll be riding back to the Dallas-Fort Worth area with David, leaving this great city behind.

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Kent Osborne outside the Alamo Ritz

Mumblecore ruled SXSW this year; and it all started with the trailers. This year, SXSW brought back the Burger Hut trailers (originally from the 2002 festival), starring Kent Osborne. This year's mockery include: a "mumblecore" theme party (Kent confuses it with "Dumbledore" theme party), and spoofs of 300, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and Glengarry Glen Ross.

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The art of filmmaking is convoluted and complex. The naked and unguarded rarely receive the accolades they deserve because mainstream cinema is far more concerned with feeling good. Call me masochistic, but I don't want to feel good after leaving a film. Sure, if it's a Sunday afternoon and I want a cheerful cry as I laze around the house in boxers, reminiscing my old high school days and eating ice-cream, I may want to pop in a feel good comedy. Alright, those feelings actually surface a great deal--I won't lie to you. But when I'm at a film festival, I want to view films that impact me, that send shivers down my spine. I want to cry because it hurts. I want to cringe and laugh and then cringe again. I want intensity and experimentation. I want to learn something. And I don't want everything to be happy-go-lucky.

Mary Bronstein's Yeast is an intense look at friendship human beings. At its core, Yeast tackles the juvenile nature within us all. You may not want to admit it, but there's often been times you've wanted to slug someone you care about because, at the moment, you feel nothing but loathsome disgust for them. When everything they say or do grates on your eyeballs.

Bronstein's character, an extremely selfish control freak is extremely unlikable and irritating to the core. Her "friends," Amy Judd, a stubborn, immature brat and Greta Gerwig, a gadfly obsessed with the need for attention, both show me new flavors of puke. Watching them should bring me to convulsions. But again, I'm strangely attracted...

Yeast is a claustrophobic rage of a film. Largely shot by filmmakers Sean Williams and (really nice guy) Michael Tully, the film stays close to its subjects--oftentimes too close for comfort. Bronstein totally trumps any film dealing with jealousy and obsession. It's real, it's nasty and it's uncomfortable. You won't necessarily enjoy the experience of watching the film, but you'll certainly appreciate it for its honesty.

But then again, you may prefer the sugar-coated blandness of Hollywood and you may care nothing for truth or genuineness. If that's the case, go watch "Friends" or something. And stop reading my blog.