Coolidge Corner Theater Screens the Emerson Five

by Amy R Handler



This Wednesday evening March 31, from 5-7 p.m., anyone who happens to be in Coolidge Corner, Brookline, MA should definitely attend the screening of five outrageously talented, independent filmmakers. All five just happen to teach at
Emerson College but their work is anything but academic! For those who can attend, plan on staying for a very lively Q and A with the directors after the screening.


Jean Stawarz’ 16 minute short, “The Hunters” is an actor-driven narrative about a young girl who insists that her dad (Charlie) take her on a hunting trip in the wilds of Ontario. The season is Autumn and deer abound. It’s not so much that Danni--- a child of divorce--- is a hunting enthusiast, as a calculating 12 year-old who wants to feel closer to her estranged dad. After all, his plans to take his son Jim on the trip are inconveniently dashed when Jim come down with mumps.

At the hunting cabin, they join Charlie’s friends and Danni finds herself ensconced in ritualistic male society---a situation most females of any age would find intimidating. Being precocious, with ambiguous tendencies she manages to turn the tables on the men and steal control of their hunting activities and their hearts.
In the end, she and her father bond, and with much admiration, he admits that she is an intelligent child with a mind of her own.

Stawarz, is primarily a screenwriter. She created this film debut from her own coming of age experiences. This is something all great writers do when they want their stories to be believable. Beautifully directed and filmed in Super-16 and 35mm, certain nighttime shots possess a magical quality---an aura that puts us on edge. These coupled with the complexity of the young girl, instill a provocation that makes the film multi-dimensional in its possibilities. The only problem, if this is a problem, is that we feel let down when the film abruptly ends. Newcomer, Jean Stawarz is definitely a uniquely strong filmmaker and someone to watch out for in the future.

Robert Sabal’s, “We Lived There” is an avant-garde masterpiece with a definite feel of horror, though he claims this was not his intention. Still, for those of us with unnaturally keen imaginations, the chill is definitely in the air as we view this short film where an empty house is the main character and sundry voices tell its story. These voiceover-ghosts of past residents emerge quietly at first, seemingly attack, and then stumble over each other in their attempts at possession. The detached language is sparse--- barely there--- as unseen owners claim, ‘they lived there’.

Sabal is no stranger to filmmaking and screenwriting. His career began in the 1980s with experimental pieces then ran the gamut of genres including documentaries and narrative features. He is very much at home in the psychological thriller/horror genres though he may not want to admit this. Here’s one viewer who hopes he soon comes to terms with his pronounced talent in these areas, and stays there for a while.

“Proverbial Wisdom” is an experimental film by Jan Roberts-Breslin. This non-linear, abstract narrative seems more a film-installation than cinema. There is one character in the film---a young woman. Most of the action unfolds inside a house, though furnishings and the young woman herself are primarily seen in abstractions, devoid of any context. Sparse voiceover, assumed to be the woman’s voice, represents her continuous thoughts as she engages in mundane tasks like sewing, sweeping and patting her dog. Oddly, objects such as fabric incite and become thoughts as they appear, then fade into memories. The film concludes outside the home. The woman sweeps while the detached voice says, ‘sweep clean’, as if some outside clean slate can magically wipe all thoughts away. Unlike Sabal’s multitudinous voices eventually stretched to their limits, the hypnotic and solitary language prevails. Voiced thoughts seem proverbial--- in fact that is the filmmakers intent. Yet there is nothing academic about this piece that simultaneously breeds calming-contentment and overriding fear.

Roberts-Breslin’s media art is much acclaimed in this country and abroad. Some of her works have also aired on PBS. Her strong interests in philosophy and religion lend subtle depth to her art yet never remove it from the more common grasp of humanity.

Anya Belkina’s “Insurgency of Ambition” is a very provocative and disturbing cinematic, gem. Wholly animated, it consists of a solitary traveler en route to glory. When he overcomes copious obstacles and finally arrives at his destination, he discovers disillusion and horror. Seemingly effortless in its portrayal, Belkina’s tale of our all too human condition is anything but simple.

Belkina’s cinema is derived from her great skills in drawing, painting and artistic design. Not surprisingly, her paintings are held in many collections throughout the United States. Amazingly down to earth, she is an artist and filmmaker worthy of all our attention.

Tom Kingdon’s two films, “Beowulf “ and “Interfaces” vary greatly in their cinematic approach yet manage to arrive at the same conclusion----mainly, that heroes are often monsters in disguise.

Roughly based upon the ancient character of Beowulf, Kingdon’s modern, experimental interpretation hits very close to home as we live out our lives in modern society. Superbly acted and expertly filmed, magnificent landscapes camouflage vile rapes, murders, stealth monsters and prancing dragons. Inside the Ale House, political war business is conducted as usual, while drunken and fickle subjects fawn over their King. In this world where nothing is what it seems, Kingdon asks, ‘Who are the real monsters here?’

The recently awarded, “Interfaces” is Tom Kingdon’s takeoff on John Cassavetes film, “Faces”. All action takes place in a livingroom. The date is 1964 on a beautiful Summer’s Sunday in Hollywood Hills. Sara is a homemaker who transcribes and types screenplays for well- known film directors. Her husband Eric owns a restaurant. In his effort to acquire a liquor license, he has somehow managed to get involved with shady characters that are extorting money from him. Both husband and wife are so enmeshed in their jobs they are never available to each other. Unable to speak to each other without arguing, they veer further and further apart.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings and John Cassavetes appears. He is there to pick up his typed script. Without a clue as to Cassavetes’ identity, Eric answers the door. Surreally, Cassavetes takes over the place and attempts to counsel the battling couple. The result is unbelievable.

Kingdons career as an experimental, narrative filmmaker shockingly began in mainstream, BBC television and theater. Not surprisingly, this son of controversial journalist, Frank Kingdon and his actress wife, Marcella Markham, rebelled. After both parents were placed near the top of Joseph McCarthy’s infamous, Black List, Kingdon decided mainstream directing was no longer for him and began to make his own style of cinema. Thank goodness for the rest of us, he did.



Coolidge Corner Theater
290 Harvard Street
Coolidge Corner
Brookline, MA 02446

DVD REVIEW: "The Lark Farm"

Few filmmakers have been willing to focus a narrative feature on the 1915 genocide of the Armenians by the Ottoman Turkish military, and it is a shame that the Italian directors Paolo and Vittorio Taviani have dared to venture into this hot button area with an extremely uneven melodrama.

The first half of the film feels like a variation of “The Garden of the Finzi-Continis,” with a wealthy Armenian family not realizing the growing danger that encircles their privileged existence. Tragedy shows up at the halfway mark, with Turkish soldiers slaughtering the Armenian males and forcing the women into an excruciating march into the desert. Running parallel to their plight are efforts to rescue the remaining women, with help coming in a ragtag collection of sympathetic Turkish beggars, an indefatigable Greek woman who once worked for the wealthy family, and funding smuggled into the country with the help of Spanish diplomats.

While “The Lark Farm” is punctuated with moments of harrowing tragedy – most notably in a scene where Turkish troops force a mother to murder her newborn son – the film gets weighed down by soapy subplots involving Paz Vega as an Armenian beauty who somehow winds up romantically linked to two Turkish soldiers. The film’s cast involves a number of actors from different countries, and the attempt to unify the soundtrack with Italian dubbing isn’t always successful.

Nonetheless, credit should be given for putting a long overdue spotlight on this atrocious chapter of 20th century history.

“The Lark Farm”
2007, Drama, In Italian with English subtitles, Not rated, 120 minutes,
Image Entertainment

DVD Review: "Alice in Wonderland (1966)"

Timed for release in conjunction with the premiere of the latest Tim Burton film, this rarely seen 1966 BBC production from Jonathan Miller takes a radically different approach to the Lewis Carroll landmark.

The most significant aspect here is reinventing Wonderland as a warped parallel universe to Victorian England: the story unfolds amid drawing rooms and hallways of genteel shabby mansions while the novel’s zoomorphic characters are portrayed as the Victorians that Carroll was satirically mocking. Thus, Wonderland becomes the adult world of the late 19th century rather than a fanciful sphere of gabby animals. (Only the Cheshire Cat remains on four legs.)

Alice herself has also undergone a serious personality change – Anne Malilk portrays the girl as a surly observer who greets her bizarre adventures with an air of studied indifference.

While much of the Carroll text has been jettisoned to accommodate a tight 71-minute running time, the film’s surreal style compensates for the deletion of literary substance: deep-focus black-and-white cinematography by Dick Bush and a wonderfully incongruous sitar-heavy score by Ravi Shankar create an appropriately eccentric interpretation. A few star cameos offer amusing distractions, most notably Leo McKern in drag as the Duchess, John Gielgud dancing at the seashore as the nostalgic Mock Turtle and Peter Cook as the daffy Mad Hatter; Peter Sellers, strangely, is given very little to do as the doddering King of Hearts.

Special features on this DVD release include the only surviving print of Cecil Hepworth’s 1903 one-reel version of “Alice in Wonderland,” a documentary on how Miller and Shankar conceived the score for the film, and Dennis Potter’s 1965 biopic “Alice,” about the real-life inspiration for the title character, Alice Liddell.

“Alice in Wonderland (1966)”
1966, Drama, Not rated, 71 minutes,
BBC Video

Review: "Mid-August Lunch"

Gianni Di Gregorio directs and stars in this mild light comedy about a middle-aged unemployed Roman named Gianni who is living with his 93-year-old mother in a condominium apartment. Amidst mounting debts – including an electric bill that has not been paid in three years – Gianni agrees to look after the building manager’s elderly mother during the Pranzo di Ferragosto, the Italian summer holiday. However, the manager sticks Gianni with both his mother and an elderly aunt. Complicating matters, Gianni’s physician deposits his elderly mother in exchange for excusing Gianni’s unpaid medical bills.

“Mid-August Lunch” has an interesting set up – four elderly women and a beleaguered comically-oriented man getting along in an increasingly cramped setting. Unfortunately, the film never really clicks. Di Gregorio’s screen presence is too benign to make any impact; his character is so thoroughly lacking in personality that it is difficult to imagine why he would anchor the film around such a dull man.

Even worse, the quartet of elderly ladies lack any significant depth or scope to be taken seriously as individuals. Each elderly woman seems like a caricature rather than a character, and it is difficult to connect with these non-dimensional interpretations of the elderly. The one scene that could have had impact – where the building manager’s mother escapes from the apartment to enjoy drinking and smoking at an outdoor café – is executed in such a flat and stolid manner that any possible fun leaks out before the scene runs its course.

At 75 minutes, “Mid-August Lunch” is also surprisingly short as a feature film. A longer running time may have provided it with more plot possibilities or more texture for the characters. As it stands, this “Lunch” feels more like an unsatisfactory appetizer than a satisfying main course.

"Mid-August Lunch"
Directed and written by Gianni Di Gregorio, produced by Matteo Garrone, cinematography by Gian Enrico Bianchi, editing by Marco Spoletini.
Starring Gianni Di Gregorio, Valeria De Franciscis, Marina Cacciotti, Maria Cali.
75 minutes. A Zeitgeist Films Release.

Retro Cinema: "Pink Flamingos"

The problem with cult movies is that the viewer is who not part of the cult following is often left confused at what the fuss is all about. I experienced this recently in watching John Waters’ 1972 “Pink Flamingos” for the very first time.

The “Pink Flamingos” cult is clearly anchored in a specific time and place – in this case, the midnight movie circuit of the 1970s and early 1980s, when cinemas reserved their 12:00am slots on Fridays and Saturdays for a number of weird flicks. The midnight movie favorites never quite made a positive impression during regular theater hours – “El Topo,” “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and “Eraserhead” achieved classic status in this after hours setting after being rejected by mainstream critics and audiences of the era.

But whereas “El Topo” and “Eraserhead” can still command attention with their bizarre visual style and “Rocky Horror” can set off a wave of smiles with its insouciant flair, “Pink Flamingos” comes into the 21st century looking like a badly dated misfit of a movie. The genuine gross-out sequences that set “Pink Flamingos” apart in 1972 – most infamously, the chicken f**king encounter and Divine’s consuming of dog feces – created a new bar for inappropriate comedy.

But most of the shock value that Waters served up seems fairly tame when compared to mainstream flicks and prime time television shows that casually incorporate references to homosexuality, masturbation, body fluids and flatulence into their humor. When one considers what Howard Stern is saying on the radio or what the Farrelly Brothers have put in their mainstream films or what turns up on cable TV, "Pink Flamingos" is somewhat benign.

This is not to say that the film is completely lacking. Waters’ gift for camp dialogue and the cartoonish excessiveness of his weirdo ensemble – particularly massive Edith Massey sitting in an oversized playpen – are still able to bring about smiles. And the hidden camera segment with Divine attracting bewildered stares as he/she strolls in full dress and make-up through a predominantly African American section of downtown Baltimore needs to be seen to be believed.

What is surprising today (at least for someone watching the film for the first time) is the amateurish nature of the production. Perhaps the expectations of filmgoers have evolved so greatly that it is impossible to imagine any contemporary audience paying to see such a crudely made feature as this glorified home movie. Even the bottom feeders among contemporary low budget filmmaking strive for visual pizazz with HD cinematography and digital sound.

In the 1970s, however, the demented cheapo aspects of the Waters’ film style helped give him a degree of outlaw cred among underground movie fans – his work felt like anti-movies, if you will, due to their intentional lack of technical finesse. (The film’s soundtrack of 1950s doo-wop music starts and stops so abruptly that you can actually imagine Waters’ dropping and lifting his phonograph needle from his worn-out record collections.)

Though, on second thought, maybe my problem with “Pink Flamingos” is that I came too late to the film. Outside of its period, it seems like a zany curio. In its time, it must have a blast to behold. Alas, perhaps I arrived too late for the fun?

"Pink Flamingos"
1972, Directed by John Waters
Starring Divine, Mink Stole, Edith Massey

The Psychology of a Narrative: The Hurt Locker

By David Ryan

From coast to coast, the recent discussions about The Hurt Locker illustrate the audience’s varying and conflicting needs regarding works of fiction. On one hand, director Kathryn Bigelow and writer-producer Mark Boal would argue that the inaccuracies in their drama do not detract from the artistic merits of their film. On the other hand, segments of their audience have decried that a film that strives for verisimilitude undermines its credibility when it plays with the facts. This disagreement is worth studying briefly, for it provides a context for understanding the relationship between filmmakers and their audiences.

When Paul Greengrass was making United 93, he made clear distinctions between the hypothetical audience who might watch his film and his intended audience. In an unusual move, he directly solicited the latter (9/11 survivors, flight controllers, etc.) to create a docudrama that met their specific needs. When Greengrass committed to this empathic approach, he narrowed his artistic choices. Rather than rely solely on his creative imagination, he used storytelling as a problem-solving medium to address some audience-related issues. For United 93, the result is a paradoxical work that is both deeply personal and broad in its arguments.

Greengrass understands that movies are a part of reality and history—that artistic invention and cinematic production are social and rhetorical practices that do not merely reflect reality but help audiences create and re-create reality. Because audiences don’t always understand the broader formations of factual sequences, they study fictive texts to construct a personal understanding of historical events. Consequently, works of fictive realism (with its blending of symbolism and empiricism) often supplant the work of more authentic, reportorial narratives, and Greengrass understands the role fictive influences play in this complicated, perceptual context.

The critical discussions about The Hurt Locker are not so much about the anachronisms or the historicism that the filmmakers employ; rather, the debate centers on the questionable behavior of Sgt. William James (Jeremy Renner) and his work in the Explosives Ordnance Disposal unit. The film’s oft-cited premise is that James is some sort of war junkie, and his addictions needlessly endanger his unit. Bigelow explains in Newsweek: “'War's dirty little secret is that some men love it,’ she says. ‘I'm trying to unpack why, to look at what it means to be a hero in the context of 21st-century combat.'"

Although Bigelow’s contextualizing is interesting, the premise of the film doesn't necessarily strike new ground (read Homer for why war stirs men's desires while simultaneously extinguishing such desires). To their credit, Bigelow and Boal create a narrative with its own internal logic (with stated premises and conclusions), but the film also creates some problems, for Bigelow-Boal seem to have characterized their film with a fallacy, one that service personnel (and former service members) have spotted, a fallacy that undermines the consistency of the film.

In this brief analysis, it is helpful to paraphrase the protest argument, and it goes something like this: James’s behavior is a trope of artistic invention, and his manners would not be tolerated by a professional class of soldiers; therefore, the film’s portrayal of the EOD distorts their work in favor of sensationalism. Given the power of fictional narratives, Bigelow-Boal’s film is deceptive because their straw man will be hastily (mis)interpreted as representing routinized American soldiering.

This argument is fair, but there are deeper problems with character development. It is clear that Bigelow-Boal sympathize with James, but the problem is that they show little empathy for his development because they rely on a slim psychological profile to characterize his actions. In their portrait, we witness the sergeant violate EOD protocols and transgress Army regulations. We witness him suffering in isolation as well as fighting with his unit. Because of these circumstances, we are left to digest the simple argument that addiction to war alone explains his risky behavior. Clearly, this deduction is the filmmaker's intent.

Realistically, this sequencing is hardly convincing, for addictions often have associative precursors, and the filmmakers are unclear about the origins of his addiction. What is also unclear is whether his addiction is physical, emotional or psychological (neurological?). In a simplistic context, the film frames his addiction as a disorder based on his work, one that creates stress, resulting in, perhaps, depression, and this trauma diminishes James’s ability to maintain relationships. Unfortunately, for a film that focuses on character development, his psychological profile is too shallow by far to understand.

Given the depth of a normative psychological profile, the weight of this stress doesn’t quite affect other important areas of his life. For example, his memory, concentration, and ability to focus on his tasks seem to be unaffected. In fact, the film focuses on the strength of his hyper-vigilance as he works against a network of combatants-cum-terrorists who are, in many ways, setting traps not just to kill him but to study his methods. His vigilance also allows him to examine his enemies by keeping bits of dissembled bombs. On the surface, he functions well enough to earn the accolades of a superior (David Morse) yet avoids the detection of the unit shrink (Christian Camargo). No doubt, the brass misreads him, but his unit does not. Here, we surmise that the sergeant is functionally dysfunctional on the slippery path to a breakdown.

However, as a character, James seems far less addicted to war than he is drawn to contexts in which his diminished psycho-pathology is served by high risk behaviors. This more obvious and specific (and less grandiose) premise makes more sense as James seems to seek the rush of adrenaline to triumph over his fears, fill his apparent loneliness, and compensate for his inadequacy as a husband and parent (intimacy issues surface when he fails to find satisfaction with Evangeline Lilly at home). This closer (and optimistic) reading of The Hurt Locker, again, seems to better explain his behaviors, but the narrative doesn’t quite make the psychological connections clearly enough to fully understand.

This lack of insight is probably part of the reason why certain audiences have dismissed the film, for Bigelow-Boal’s yearning to portray a heroic war junkie is undermined by a character whose portrait is hard to comprehend. Good docudramas offer compelling psychological portraits of their characters, but The Hurt Locker scrimps too much on character insight in favor of emotional and physical display.

Boal spent time in Iraq in 2004, and he stated that his experiences allowed him to develop sympathy for American troops. If he did develop an empathic understanding (to see things frame their frame of reference, understand their fears, their courage, their perspective), this empathy isn't inscribed in James, for Boal seemed to create an aloof character that pleased his own imagination rather than one who reflects the credibility of the troops he said he came to admire. This approach contrasts sharply with Greengrass’s intensely empathic work on United 93, and Bigelow-Boal could have done better to understand how to synthesize personal accounts with their narrative.

Audiences, however, have an obligation to work harder to interpret films, too. The Hurt Locker’s structural principle is based on understanding the binary between James and his unit. Here, Bigelow-Boal effectively develop his supporting unit (Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty) to illustrate that James, the straw man, though good at defusing bombs, is a ticking one, too (yes, the metaphor isn't very subtle), and that he is too wayward in his addiction to belong to a disciplined army because his behavior is not normative. Meaning, part of the film's argument is that his irregular actions do not represent the actions of regular soldiers, an important point that has been largely overlooked in the critical discussions of the film.

Interestingly, the film raises the idea that James seems to fit better with a force of contractors who appear in the film, a covert group far out in the desert, on the fringes, dislocated in their distress and in need of rescuing. But such connections go without much development, for The Hurt Locker leaves us with a narrative that blends fiction with empiricism, poetic license with documented realism, fallacy with truth, binaries that work to create its own cogent yet confusing arguments about war.

The Hurt Locker
Rated R
Voltage Pictures
Directed by Kathryn Bigelow
Written by Mark Boal
Cast: Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty.