Pavilion: BAMcinemaFest Review

NEW YORK Many teenagers experience life as perpetual drama, a series of mysteries and crises in which they are the constant protagonist. Tim Sutton's Pavilion is not about those kids. Bathed in twilight and unawkward silences, it envisions an adolescence not battled or endured but simply lived, for as long as it lasts. The nearly plotless, largely dialogue-free film is made for a small sliver of the arthouse demographic, but love from fest audiences could help its chances there.

Clearly influenced by the extended-take outings of Gus Van Sant and other longueur-loving auteurs, first-time helmer Sutton essentially puts his non-pro cast in a given setting and watches them: They play with fireworks, ride bikes, walk in woods. They climb a tree, or debate doing so; they find a lead pipe and swing it around. Viewers will expect this to be scene-setting in anticipation of drama, but it isn't: The closest we get to plot is when 15 year-old Max leaves bucolic New York to live with his father in a wasted Arizona suburb. There, cement culverts replace picturesque lakes, and kids spend afternoons good-naturedly failing to execute impressive bike tricks. Near the end, Sutton inexplicably stops following Max around, instead trailing a kid whose home life is slightly more colorful.

If these teens drink, have sex or listen to dangerous music, we don't know about it: Sutton isn't trying to shock us any more than he wants to keep us on the edge of our seats. But he does, with beauty-finding cinematographer Chris Dapkins, seek out defining sensations in his aimless scenes. Ripples encircle a boy and girl treading water in a chilly lake; buzzing streetlamps accompany impromptu bike repair.

Throughout, the film's subjects convince us they're doing nothing more than being themselves, so much so that a cynical advisor told Sutton he should market his film as a documentary. That label would prepare potential viewers for Pavilion's lack of story, but it would make a lie of the movie's patient, finely drawn loveliness.

Venue: BAMcinemaFest (Factory 25)
Production Company: Pavilion Project Media
Cast: Max Schaffner, Zach Cali, Cody Hamric, Addie Barlett, Aaron Buyea, Levi Dustin
Director-Screenwriter-Producer: Tim Sutton
Executive producers: Simon Mikhailovich, Russ Brownback
Director of photography: Chris Dapkins
Music: Sam Prekop
Editor: Seth Bomse
No rating, 70 minutes.

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Pavilion: BAMcinemaFest Review

NEW YORK Many teenagers experience life as perpetual drama, a series of mysteries and crises in which they are the constant protagonist. Tim Sutton's Pavilion is not about those kids. Bathed in twilight and unawkward silences, it envisions an adolescence not battled or endured but simply lived, for as long as it lasts. The nearly plotless, largely dialogue-free film is made for a small sliver of the arthouse demographic, but love from fest audiences could help its chances there.

Clearly influenced by the extended-take outings of Gus Van Sant and other longueur-loving auteurs, first-time helmer Sutton essentially puts his non-pro cast in a given setting and watches them: They play with fireworks, ride bikes, walk in woods. They climb a tree, or debate doing so; they find a lead pipe and swing it around. Viewers will expect this to be scene-setting in anticipation of drama, but it isn't: The closest we get to plot is when 15 year-old Max leaves bucolic New York to live with his father in a wasted Arizona suburb. There, cement culverts replace picturesque lakes, and kids spend afternoons good-naturedly failing to execute impressive bike tricks. Near the end, Sutton inexplicably stops following Max around, instead trailing a kid whose home life is slightly more colorful.

If these teens drink, have sex or listen to dangerous music, we don't know about it: Sutton isn't trying to shock us any more than he wants to keep us on the edge of our seats. But he does, with beauty-finding cinematographer Chris Dapkins, seek out defining sensations in his aimless scenes. Ripples encircle a boy and girl treading water in a chilly lake; buzzing streetlamps accompany impromptu bike repair.

Throughout, the film's subjects convince us they're doing nothing more than being themselves, so much so that a cynical advisor told Sutton he should market his film as a documentary. That label would prepare potential viewers for Pavilion's lack of story, but it would make a lie of the movie's patient, finely drawn loveliness.

Venue: BAMcinemaFest (Factory 25)
Production Company: Pavilion Project Media
Cast: Max Schaffner, Zach Cali, Cody Hamric, Addie Barlett, Aaron Buyea, Levi Dustin
Director-Screenwriter-Producer: Tim Sutton
Executive producers: Simon Mikhailovich, Russ Brownback
Director of photography: Chris Dapkins
Music: Sam Prekop
Editor: Seth Bomse
No rating, 70 minutes.

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Radio Unnameable: BAMcinemaFest Review

NEW YORK Arguing for the cultural importance of a figure known largely to an insular group of admirers, Paul Lovelace and Jessica Wolfson's Radio Unnameable finds community among the isolated New Yorkers who, for reasons of temperament or graveyard-shift employment, need a radio for company in the wee hours. Likely to find a small but receptive audience here, it also has just enough broader significance to merit small-screen circulation beyond its built-in fan base.

Starting in 1963, New Yorker Bob Fass hosted a program on non-commercial WBAI that epitomized what came to be known as freeform radio: an unpredictable mix of talk, music, and audience call-ins defined solely by what was on his and his listeners' minds. The agenda mightn't have been to promote new artists, but Fass wound up hosting the first performances of such period-defining songs as "Mr. Bojangles" and "Alice's Restaurant." The informal nature of the venue is summed up nicely here, with a clip in which a listener tells Bob Dylan that "it'd be great" if he could learn to sing better, and the songwriter responds, "well, I appreciate that.

Fass embraced a quasi-journalistic role as well, taking his tape recorder to Sixties protests and staying in the studio during others, giving airtime to eyewitnesses of police brutality. Discovering how vast his listenership was, he initiated "Be-in"-type events for both social and political reasons; counterculture figures like Abbie Hoffman became regular guests.

Lovelace and Wolfson chronicle this era with plenty of talking heads, in-studio audio and video material, and an atmospheric array of anonymous-looking film of NYC street life. Fass doesn't come across as a particularly fascinating man, but it's easy to see how his interests and dedication helped anchor a substantial scene.

As the Yippee/Hippie age trailed into Seventies identity politics, predictable clashes broke out at WBAI, pushing Fass off the air for a number of years. The film's account of his ouster and return is less compelling than what precedes it, illustrating his opponents' faults but (despite being clearly in his corner) not showing what, 50 years down the road, he has to offer listeners beyond sheer persistence.

Venue: BAMcinemaFest
Production Company: Lost Footage Films
Directors-Producers: Paul Lovelace, Jessica Wolfson
Director of photography: John Pirozzi
Editor: Gregory Wright
No rating, 87 minutes.

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Radio Unnameable: BAMcinemaFest Review

NEW YORK Arguing for the cultural importance of a figure known largely to an insular group of admirers, Paul Lovelace and Jessica Wolfson's Radio Unnameable finds community among the isolated New Yorkers who, for reasons of temperament or graveyard-shift employment, need a radio for company in the wee hours. Likely to find a small but receptive audience here, it also has just enough broader significance to merit small-screen circulation beyond its built-in fan base.

Starting in 1963, New Yorker Bob Fass hosted a program on non-commercial WBAI that epitomized what came to be known as freeform radio: an unpredictable mix of talk, music, and audience call-ins defined solely by what was on his and his listeners' minds. The agenda mightn't have been to promote new artists, but Fass wound up hosting the first performances of such period-defining songs as "Mr. Bojangles" and "Alice's Restaurant." The informal nature of the venue is summed up nicely here, with a clip in which a listener tells Bob Dylan that "it'd be great" if he could learn to sing better, and the songwriter responds, "well, I appreciate that.

Fass embraced a quasi-journalistic role as well, taking his tape recorder to Sixties protests and staying in the studio during others, giving airtime to eyewitnesses of police brutality. Discovering how vast his listenership was, he initiated "Be-in"-type events for both social and political reasons; counterculture figures like Abbie Hoffman became regular guests.

Lovelace and Wolfson chronicle this era with plenty of talking heads, in-studio audio and video material, and an atmospheric array of anonymous-looking film of NYC street life. Fass doesn't come across as a particularly fascinating man, but it's easy to see how his interests and dedication helped anchor a substantial scene.

As the Yippee/Hippie age trailed into Seventies identity politics, predictable clashes broke out at WBAI, pushing Fass off the air for a number of years. The film's account of his ouster and return is less compelling than what precedes it, illustrating his opponents' faults but (despite being clearly in his corner) not showing what, 50 years down the road, he has to offer listeners beyond sheer persistence.

Venue: BAMcinemaFest
Production Company: Lost Footage Films
Directors-Producers: Paul Lovelace, Jessica Wolfson
Director of photography: John Pirozzi
Editor: Gregory Wright
No rating, 87 minutes.

Read More

Tyler Perry's Madea's Witness Protection: Film Review

Madea is starting to look a little tired.

No wonder, considering that shes now starring in her seventh film iteration for her alter ego, the alarmingly prolific actor-filmmaker Tyler Perry. But in the (as usual) self-branding titled Tyler Perrys Madeas Witness Protection, this prototypical angry black woman seems content to merely roll her eyes or mutter to herself as commit physical mayhem.

PHOTOS: Teflon Actor Awards: 6 Stars Immune to Bad Reviews

Primarily notable for its adding numerous Caucasian characters into the mix, this tired installment of the ongoing Madea saga has her playing nursemaid to a white family headed by a CFO of a Wall Street investment bank who has been set up as the fall guy for a Bernie Madoff-style Ponzi scheme.

The hapless George Needleman (Eugene Levy) is in danger of being rubbed out for his cooperation with the authorities, so federal agent Brian (Perry, playing it straight) decides to squirrel him and his family away in what he laughably sees as the most inconspicuous place possible -- the Atlanta home of his irascible Aunt Madea (also Perry) and his crotchety father Brian (Perry, yet again), in an all-black neighborhood.

Needless to say, culture clash ensues, with the uptight family -- including Georges trophy wife (Denise Richards), his spoiled teen children (Danielle Campbell, Devan Leos) and his dementia-addled mother (Doris Roberts, in a fright wig) -- quickly set straight by their no-nonsense hostess.

Other than an early scene in which Madea violently takes an armed carjacker to task, the oversized matron is largely restrained this time around. Her principal foil is the rebellious daughter, whom she not-so-hilariously teaches a life lesson by falsely telling her that her family has been killed.

PHOTOS: NAACP Awards Red Carpet

Maintaining a consistent tone has never been one of the filmmakers strengths, but this effort -- veering wildly from broad comedy to sensitive drama -- feels even more ungainly than most. And as usual, the proceedings are interminably stretched out, in this case to a snail-paced 114 minutes.

Even such potentially amusing comic set pieces as when Madea goes through airport security, with predictably chaotic results, feel awfully half-hearted.

Still, any criticism seems useless, as Perrys loyal legions of fans likely will eat it all up. Others will enjoy the antics of the ever-reliable Levy -- who spends most of the film in a state of amusing semi-hysteria -- and the presence of such familiar faces as Roberts, John Amos and Tom Arnold.

Speaking of familiar faces, another one shows up in the obligatory end-credits outtakes. The surprise wont be spoiled here, other than to say that he doesnt appear to be winning.

Opens: Friday, June 29 (Lionsgate).

Production: Lionsgate, Tyler Perry Studios .

Cast: Tyler Perry, Eugene Levy, Denise Richards, Doris Roberts, Romeo Miller, Tom Arnold, John Amos, Marla Gibbs, Danielle Campbell, Devan Leos.

Director-screenwriter: Tyler Perry

Producers: Tyler Perry, Ozzie Areu, Paul Hall

Executive producers: John J. Kelly, Michael Paseornek

Director of photography: Alexander Gruszynski

Production designer: Eloise C. Stammerjohn

Editor: Maysie Hoy

Costume designer: Carol Oditz

Music: Aaron Zigman

Rated PG-13, 114 minutes

Read More

Tyler Perry's Madea's Witness Protection: Film Review

Madea is starting to look a little tired.

No wonder, considering that shes now starring in her seventh film iteration for her alter-ego, the alarmingly prolific actor/filmmaker Tyler Perry. But in the (as usual) self-branding titled Tyler Perrys Madeas Witness Protection, this prototypical angry black woman seems content to merely roll her eyes or mutter to herself as commit physical mayhem.

PHOTOS: Teflon Actor Awards: 6 Stars Immune to Bad Reviews

Primarily notable for its mixing numerous Caucasian characters into the mix, this tired installment of the ongoing Madea saga has her playing nursemaid to a white family headed by a CFO of a Wall Street investment bank who has been set up as the fall-guy for a Bernie Madoff-style Ponzi scheme.

The hapless George Needlemen (Eugene Levy) is in danger of being rubbed out for his cooperation with the authorities, so federal agent Brian (Perry, playing it straight) decides to squirrel him and his family away in what he laughably sees as the most inconspicuous place possiblethe Atlanta home of his irascible Aunt Madea (Perry) and his crotchety father Brian (Perry, yet again), in an all-black neighborhood.

Needless to say, culture clash ensues, with the uptight familyincluding Georges trophy wife (Denise Richards), his spoiled teen children (Danielle Campbell, Devan Leos), and his dementia-addled mother (Doris Roberts, in a fright wig)quickly set straight by their no-nonsense hostess.

Other than an early scene in which Madea violently takes an armed carjacker to task, the oversized matron is largely restrained this time around. Her principal foil is the rebellious daughter, who she not so hilariously teaches a life lesson by falsely telling her that her family has been killed.

PHOTOS: NAACP Awards Red Carpet

Maintaining a consistent tone has never been one of the filmmakers strengths. But this effort, veering wildly from broad comedy to sensitive drama, feels even more ungainly than most. And as usual, the proceedings are interminably stretched out, in this case to a snail-paced 114 minutes.

Even such potentially amusing comic set-pieces as when Madea goes through airport security, with predictably chaotic results, feel awfully half-hearted.

Still, any criticism seems useless, as Perrys loyal legions of fans will likely eat it all up. Others will enjoy the antics of the ever-reliable Levy--who spends most of the film in a state of amusing semi-hysteria--and the presence of such familiar faces as Roberts, John Amos and Tom Arnold.

Speaking of familiar faces, another one shows up in the obligatory end credits outtakes. The surprise wont be spoiled here, other than to say that he doesnt appear to be winning.

Opened June 29 (Lionsgate).

Production: Lionsgate, Tyler Perry Studios .

Cast: Tyler Perry, Eugene Levy, Denise Richards, Doris Roberts, Romeo Miller, Tom Arnold, John Amos, Marla Gibbs, Danielle Campbell, Devan Leos.

Director/screenwriter: Tyler Perry

Producers: Tyler Perry, Ozzie Areu, Paul Hall.

Executive producers: John J. Kelly, Michael Paseornek.

Director of photography: Alexander Gruszynski.

Production designer: Eloise C. Stammerjohn.

Editor: Maysie Hoy.

Costume designer: Carol Oditz.

Music: Aaron Zigman.

Rated PG-13, 114 min.

Read More

Big Easy Express: LAFF Review

With the passing of bluegrass and folk music icons Earl Scruggs and Doc Watson earlier this year, the trajectory of American roots music was shaken to the core. Trendsetters in their day, these musicians helped create the gold standard of modern American acoustic music, along with legends like Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. With the relentless ascendancy of frequently forgettable pop music, the baton has made a sometimes shaky transition to new generations, but Emmett Malloys scintillating concert-tour doc Big Easy Express reveals some of the leading trendsetters in U.S. roots music today, even if they dont always originate in the American heartland.

After the filmmakers took home the headliner audience award at SXSW, production company S2BN broke new ground this week by making Big Easy Express the first feature film available globally for download on iTunes Movies (where it charted in the top 25 within the first few days) prior to any other platform. Continuing to invert release windows, the film streets on home video in July (with 25 minutes of additional concert footage), followed by theatrical and VOD distribution in the fall. Make no mistake, Big Easy Express ventures deep into acoustic jam-band territory, where many may decline to venture, but the bands genuine camaraderie, infectious musicality and sheer joy of performance are just as likely to snare new fans as to rally stalwarts, regardless of format.

In April 2011, folk rockers Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros from Los Angeles, Nashvilles Old Crow Medicine Show and Mumford & Sons (roots radicals from Britain) set off on an eight-day, six-city tour aboard a vintage train, journeying from Oakland to New Orleans, the Big Easy, on what they dubbed the Railroad Revival Tour. Most of the concerts on the whistle-stop journey are smallish affairs, with several set at outdoor venues in proximity to train stations. In between, the band members, family and friends jam and party their way across country, developing unstoppable musical momentum that culminates in a packed show in New Orleans.

From the continuous opening tracking shot that glides down the trains narrow corridors, emerging in separate cars to encounter each of the bands engaged in lively rehearsal, director Emmett Malloy adopts imaginative shooting techniques throughout the film. Atmospheric footage of the striking landscapes the train traverses through California, Arizona and Texas sets the context of the musicians roots in the migratory, working-class American experience and provides scenic backdrops for impromptu track-side jam sessions. Creative use of lighting, black-and-white sequences and slow-motion techniques lends the film a distinct visual character, while superior sound recording and mixing bring the performances alive.

Despite mostly acoustic instrumentation, even on their own all three bands are powerhouse performers, fully committing to each sets tunes. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros vocalist Alex Ebert may be the most energetic of the musicians, with his nonstop leaping and dancing onstage, but Mumford & Sons prove equally inspired, recruiting the Austin High School marching band to perform on their rave-up The Cave. Other highlights include the Zeros rendition of Home and Old Crow Medicine Shows bluegrassy "Wagon Wheel. The culmination of all the rehearsals on the train is an impressive three-band rendition of the Guthrie classic This Train Is Bound for Glory, performed at the final show in New Orleans.

Although barely over an hour in running time, Big Easy Express packs in an impressive array of musicianship, more than a few moments of joyous creative abandon and enough interludes of quiet contemplation to soak it all in. Its an affirmation that although some of the greats may be gone, their visions still live on.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival
Production companies: S2BN Films presents a Woodshed Films Production in association with B.E.E.
Director: Emmett Malloy
Producers: Tim Lynch, Mike Luba, Bryan Ling
Executive producer: Michael Cohl
Director of photography: Giles Dunning
Editor: Matt Murphy
No rating, 66 minutes

Read More

Big Easy Express: LAFF Review

With the passing of bluegrass and folk music icons Earl Scruggs and Doc Watson earlier this year, the trajectory of American roots music was shaken to the core. Trendsetters in their day, these musicians helped create the gold standard of modern American acoustic music, along with legends like Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. With the relentless ascendancy of frequently forgettable pop music, the baton has made a sometimes shaky transition to new generations, but Emmett Malloys scintillating concert-tour doc Big Easy Express reveals some of the leading trendsetters in U.S. roots music today, even if they dont always originate in the American heartland.

After the filmmakers took home the headliner audience award at SXSW, production company S2BN broke new ground this week by making Big Easy Express the first feature film available globally for download on iTunes Movies (where it charted in the top 25 within the first few days) prior to any other platform. Continuing to invert release windows, the film streets on home video in July (with 25 minutes of additional concert footage), followed by theatrical and VOD distribution in the fall. Make no mistake, Big Easy Express ventures deep into acoustic jam-band territory, where many may decline to venture, but the bands genuine camaraderie, infectious musicality and sheer joy of performance are just as likely to snare new fans as to rally stalwarts, regardless of format.

In April 2011, folk rockers Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros from Los Angeles, Nashvilles Old Crow Medicine Show and Mumford & Sons (roots radicals from Britain) set off on an eight-day, six-city tour aboard a vintage train, journeying from Oakland to New Orleans, the Big Easy, on what they dubbed the Railroad Revival Tour. Most of the concerts on the whistle-stop journey are smallish affairs, with several set at outdoor venues in proximity to train stations. In between, the band members, family and friends jam and party their way across country, developing unstoppable musical momentum that culminates in a packed show in New Orleans.

From the continuous opening tracking shot that glides down the trains narrow corridors, emerging in separate cars to encounter each of the bands engaged in lively rehearsal, director Emmett Malloy adopts imaginative shooting techniques throughout the film. Atmospheric footage of the striking landscapes the train traverses through California, Arizona and Texas sets the context of the musicians roots in the migratory, working-class American experience and provides scenic backdrops for impromptu track-side jam sessions. Creative use of lighting, black-and-white sequences and slow-motion techniques lends the film a distinct visual character, while superior sound recording and mixing bring the performances alive.

Despite mostly acoustic instrumentation, even on their own all three bands are powerhouse performers, fully committing to each sets tunes. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros vocalist Alex Ebert may be the most energetic of the musicians, with his nonstop leaping and dancing onstage, but Mumford & Sons prove equally inspired, recruiting the Austin High School marching band to perform on their rave-up The Cave. Other highlights include the Zeros rendition of Home and Old Crow Medicine Shows bluegrassy "Wagon Wheel. The culmination of all the rehearsals on the train is an impressive three-band rendition of the Guthrie classic This Train Is Bound for Glory, performed at the final show in New Orleans.

Although barely over an hour in running time, Big Easy Express packs in an impressive array of musicianship, more than a few moments of joyous creative abandon and enough interludes of quiet contemplation to soak it all in. Its an affirmation that although some of the greats may be gone, their visions still live on.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival
Production companies: S2BN Films presents a Woodshed Films Production in association with B.E.E.
Director: Emmett Malloy
Producers: Tim Lynch, Mike Luba, Bryan Ling
Executive producer: Michael Cohl
Director of photography: Giles Dunning
Editor: Matt Murphy
No rating, 66 minutes

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Savages: Film Review

To anyone who has missed the Oliver Stone of Natural Born Killers and U Turn while wading through the more recent and conventional likes of World Trade Center and Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, Savages represents at least a partial resurrection of the director's more hallucinatory, violent, sexual and, in a word, savage side. This intense and unavoidably gory adaptation of Don Winslow's wild best-seller about the incursion of Mexican drug cartel mayhem into the United States has been made in a jagged, darkly trippy style that well expresses the story's tense uncertainties. But the pronounced superiority of the veteran supporting players to the young actors playing the central romantic threesome throws the balance off and leaves a high-caliber-sized hole in the middle of a film that should nonetheless play well to blood-and-guts-inclined men internationally.

Winslow's 2010 novel -- the prequel to which, The Kings of Cool, has just been published -- is so vivid and propulsive that you can practically see a movie in your head while reading it. For all its insane violence and dizzying plot turns, the story spins on a fanciful but believable love triangle among Laguna Beach's two most successful independent pot growers/dealers and their hedonistic free spirit of a girlfriend.

PHOTOS: Blake Lively, Taylor Kitsch Walk the Red Carpet at 'Savages' L.A. Premiere

With all the pressure the guys endure when a Mexican crime family puts the squeeze on them, the center, represented by the love story, has got to hold; it should beguile, entice, turn you on and feel special, as in Design for Living or Jules and Jim. Unfortunately, the trio, impersonated by Taylor Kitsch, Aaron Johnson and Blake Lively, seem rather junior league, the Triple-A team, where All-Stars are required. They're not bad, just not good enough when they have to tangle with the unbridled likes of John Travolta, Benicio Del Toro and Salma Hayek as assorted cohorts and adversaries.

Lively's easygoing SoCal beach girl, commonly known as O (as in Ophelia, her birth name, and orgasm, a propensity for which she is well known), narrates the tale with noticeably less energy than the film itself possesses and an omniscience that makes no sense if you think about it. Within the first 15 minutes, she gets it on with both Chon (Kitsch), a hotheaded and hard-bodied former Navy SEAL, and sensitive save-the-world do-gooder Ben (Johnson), who's the best botanist ever to turn his talents to designer weed. Living in an enviable oceanside crib, they make and distribute superdope for discerning patrons able to pay for it and live the great life as a result.

PHOTOS: Oliver Stone: Happy, Sane and at the Top of His Game

But while U.S. law enforcement has been persuaded to look the other way, such success attracts the notice of Elena (Hayek), a cartel queen whose losing battle with rival El Azul in Mexico has her looking for opportunities north of the border. Out of the blue, Chon and Ben receive an offer they're not at liberty to refuse -- to put their operation under Elena's blood-soaked umbrella. And, just in case they're thinking of cashing in and checking out, which they are, Elena's American-based goon Lado (Del Toro) kidnaps O and assures them the worst will happen to her if they make one false move.

The script by Shane Salerno, novelist Winslow and Stone illustrates how, once infected with the cutthroat, when-in-doubt-kill-'em plague embodied in the drug lords' m.o., it's impossible to shake it; once you've crossed to the dark side, you can't go back. The gangsters impose the rules of the game, and it's instant Lord of the Flies: Everyone descends to the most brutal, elemental survival of the fittest level of human behavior, with no quarter given.

STORY: Blake Lively Smolders in a Zuhair Murad Strapless Gown at 'Savages' L.A. Premiere (Video)

To save O from execution -- held in a cage, she's viewable from time to time on a computer feed -- Chon and Ben are forced into a covert game of one-upmanship with their criminal bosses while still appearing to play by their rules. Through the auspices of their surfer/stoner financial whiz Spin (Emile Hirsch in a brief, amusing turn), they move their money around and, to raise the rest of the cash they need to bail out O, come up with an ingenious scheme they can't get away with for long: robbing their bosses' bagmen.

This ploy stirs intense internal suspicion within Elena's organization, which is further disrupted by documents the boys procure from frantic DEA official Denis (Travolta), who's compromised up to his disappearing hairline and often is forced to improvise to save his skin. Stone and his collaborators depart from the novel significantly in the film's third act and smartly so, partly by expanding the Dennis role and especially by developing a propriety interest in the imperious Elena on behalf of the powerless O, creating some charged scenes and added emotional overlay (O's flighty mother, a character in the book, was played by Uma Thurman, but the entire role was cut). The action-packed, Middle East war-style climax also has been gleefully toyed with to provocative effect.

THR COVER STORY: Oliver Stone Uncensored: 'I Was Crazy for Many Years'

But the story's progression moves one's interest and sympathies away from Chon and Ben, whose personalities are defined at the outset and never acquire further weight or psychological dimension. Although, as big-time drug dealers, they are technically criminals from the beginning, they certainly aren't meant to be perceived that way by Winslow or Stone; Chon's anti-social, shoot-first/ask-questions-later impulses are seen to stem entirely from his combat experiences in Afghanistan, while Ben is a latter-day hippie whose well-meaning urge to save the world marks him as the soft one in the eyes of Lado, always on the lookout for an opponent's weak spot.

As Chon's all-action personality is readily apparent on the surface, Kitsch comes off reasonably well in his characterization of a battle-hardened vet who would seem to harbor a death wish. Forced to make a drastic transition from idealistic greenhouse genius to brutal, if unwilling, killer, Ben is by far the more conflicted and complex role, but his inner torment takes a back seat to the sweep of plot and action; he ends up being not very interesting, something for which Johnson is unable to compensate. In a role that, if one could pick any actress from the history of cinema, would have been played most ideally by Tuesday Weld, Lively doesn't really live up to her name, coming off more slack than slacker. Crucially, a chemistry among the three leads never takes hold to seduce the audience into investing deeply in the privileged moments of the trio's inevitably short-lived romantic high.

STORY: 'Savages' Star Blake Lively Describes 'Awkward' Sex Scene With Taylor Kitsch (Video)

As if receiving charges of electric current at regular intervals, Travolta is manic and most amusing as the government agent forced into ethical and practical contortions to stay afloat; Del Toro entertainingly showboats while demonstrating dozens of ways to convey diabolical menace; and Hayek synthesizes ultimate elegance, motherly concern and complete ruthlessness as the Lady Macbeth of the Mexican drug world.

Stylistically, Stone summons up many of the visual and aural tropes of his creatively assaultive works of 15 or so years ago, to mostly strong effect; there's solarization and blood-soaked saturation, alternation from color to black-and-white and film to computer/video images, altered state-suggestive editing, warping of time and anything else he can think of -- all appropriate to the occasion. The re-creations of cartel charnel house torture are gruesome and pushed to the limit of mainstream acceptability.

The film is technically sharp, and the highly varied score -- a mix of original and source music -- is marked by the exceptionally dramatic use of the opening of Brahms' Symphony No. 1 in two key scenes.

Production: Moritz Borman Prods.

Cast: Taylor Kitsch, Blake Lively, Aaron Johnson, John Travolta, Benicio Del Toro, Salma Hayek, Emile Hirsch, Demian Bichir, Sandra Echeverria, Diego Catano, Joaquin Cosio, Jake McLaughlin, Joel David Moore, Leonard Roberts, Shea Whigham

Director: Oliver Stone

Screenwriters: Shane Salerno, Don Winslow, Oliver Stone, based on the novel by Don Winslow

Producers: Moritz Borman, Eric Kopeloff

Executive producers: Todd Arnow, Fernando Sulichin, Shane Salerno

Director of photography: Dan Mindel

Production designer: Tomas Voth

Costume designer: Cindy Evans

Editors: Joe Hutshing, Stuart Levy, Alex Marquez

Music: Adam Peters

Rated R, 129 minutes

Read More

Savages: Film Review

To anyone who has missed the Oliver Stone of Natural Born Killers and U Turn while wading through the more recent and conventional likes of World Trade Center and Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps, Savages represents at least a partial resurrection of the director's more hallucinatory, violent, sexual and, in a word, savage side. This intense and unavoidably gory adaptation of Don Winslow's wild best-seller about the incursion of Mexican drug cartel mayhem into the United States has been made in a jagged, darkly trippy style that well expresses the story's tense uncertainties. But the pronounced superiority of the veteran supporting players to the young actors playing the central romantic threesome throws the balance off and leaves a high-caliber-sized hole in the middle of a film that should nonetheless play well to blood-and-guts-inclined men internationally.

Winslow's 2010 novel -- the prequel to which, The Kings of Cool, has just been published -- is so vivid and propulsive that you can practically see a movie in your head while reading it. For all its insane violence and dizzying plot turns, the story spins on a fanciful but believable love triangle among Laguna Beach's two most successful independent pot growers/dealers and their hedonistic free spirit of a girlfriend.

PHOTOS: Blake Lively, Taylor Kitsch Walk the Red Carpet at 'Savages' L.A. Premiere

With all the pressure the guys endure when a Mexican crime family puts the squeeze on them, the center, represented by the love story, has got to hold; it should beguile, entice, turn you on and feel special, as in Design for Living or Jules and Jim. Unfortunately, the trio, impersonated by Taylor Kitsch, Aaron Johnson and Blake Lively, seem rather junior league, the Triple-A team, where All-Stars are required. They're not bad, just not good enough when they have to tangle with the unbridled likes of John Travolta, Benicio Del Toro and Salma Hayek as assorted cohorts and adversaries.

Lively's easygoing SoCal beach girl, commonly known as O (as in Ophelia, her birth name, and orgasm, a propensity for which she is well known), narrates the tale with noticeably less energy than the film itself possesses and an omniscience that makes no sense if you think about it. Within the first 15 minutes, she gets it on with both Chon (Kitsch), a hotheaded and hard-bodied former Navy SEAL, and sensitive save-the-world do-gooder Ben (Johnson), who's the best botanist ever to turn his talents to designer weed. Living in an enviable oceanside crib, they make and distribute superdope for discerning patrons able to pay for it and live the great life as a result.

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But while U.S. law enforcement has been persuaded to look the other way, such success attracts the notice of Elena (Hayek), a cartel queen whose losing battle with rival El Azul in Mexico has her looking for opportunities north of the border. Out of the blue, Chon and Ben receive an offer they're not at liberty to refuse -- to put their operation under Elena's blood-soaked umbrella. And, just in case they're thinking of cashing in and checking out, which they are, Elena's American-based goon Lado (Del Toro) kidnaps O and assures them the worst will happen to her if they make one false move.

The script by Shane Salerno, novelist Winslow and Stone illustrates how, once infected with the cutthroat, when-in-doubt-kill-'em plague embodied in the drug lords' m.o., it's impossible to shake it; once you've crossed to the dark side, you can't go back. The gangsters impose the rules of the game, and it's instant Lord of the Flies: Everyone descends to the most brutal, elemental survival of the fittest level of human behavior, with no quarter given.

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To save O from execution -- held in a cage, she's viewable from time to time on a computer feed -- Chon and Ben are forced into a covert game of one-upmanship with their criminal bosses while still appearing to play by their rules. Through the auspices of their surfer/stoner financial whiz Spin (Emile Hirsch in a brief, amusing turn), they move their money around and, to raise the rest of the cash they need to bail out O, come up with an ingenious scheme they can't get away with for long: robbing their bosses' bagmen.

This ploy stirs intense internal suspicion within Elena's organization, which is further disrupted by documents the boys procure from frantic DEA official Denis (Travolta), who's compromised up to his disappearing hairline and often is forced to improvise to save his skin. Stone and his collaborators depart from the novel significantly in the film's third act and smartly so, partly by expanding the Dennis role and especially by developing a propriety interest in the imperious Elena on behalf of the powerless O, creating some charged scenes and added emotional overlay (O's flighty mother, a character in the book, was played by Uma Thurman, but the entire role was cut). The action-packed, Middle East war-style climax also has been gleefully toyed with to provocative effect.

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But the story's progression moves one's interest and sympathies away from Chon and Ben, whose personalities are defined at the outset and never acquire further weight or psychological dimension. Although, as big-time drug dealers, they are technically criminals from the beginning, they certainly aren't meant to be perceived that way by Winslow or Stone; Chon's anti-social, shoot-first/ask-questions-later impulses are seen to stem entirely from his combat experiences in Afghanistan, while Ben is a latter-day hippie whose well-meaning urge to save the world marks him as the soft one in the eyes of Lado, always on the lookout for an opponent's weak spot.

As Chon's all-action personality is readily apparent on the surface, Kitsch comes off reasonably well in his characterization of a battle-hardened vet who would seem to harbor a death wish. Forced to make a drastic transition from idealistic greenhouse genius to brutal, if unwilling, killer, Ben is by far the more conflicted and complex role, but his inner torment takes a back seat to the sweep of plot and action; he ends up being not very interesting, something for which Johnson is unable to compensate. In a role that, if one could pick any actress from the history of cinema, would have been played most ideally by Tuesday Weld, Lively doesn't really live up to her name, coming off more slack than slacker. Crucially, a chemistry among the three leads never takes hold to seduce the audience into investing deeply in the privileged moments of the trio's inevitably short-lived romantic high.

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As if receiving charges of electric current at regular intervals, Travolta is manic and most amusing as the government agent forced into ethical and practical contortions to stay afloat; Del Toro entertainingly showboats while demonstrating dozens of ways to convey diabolical menace; and Hayek synthesizes ultimate elegance, motherly concern and complete ruthlessness as the Lady Macbeth of the Mexican drug world.

Stylistically, Stone summons up many of the visual and aural tropes of his creatively assaultive works of 15 or so years ago, to mostly strong effect; there's solarization and blood-soaked saturation, alternation from color to black-and-white and film to computer/video images, altered state-suggestive editing, warping of time and anything else he can think of -- all appropriate to the occasion. The re-creations of cartel charnel house torture are gruesome and pushed to the limit of mainstream acceptability.

The film is technically sharp, and the highly varied score -- a mix of original and source music -- is marked by the exceptionally dramatic use of the opening of Brahms' Symphony No. 1 in two key scenes.

Production: Moritz Borman Prods.

Cast: Taylor Kitsch, Blake Lively, Aaron Johnson, John Travolta, Benicio Del Toro, Salma Hayek, Emile Hirsch, Demian Bichir, Sandra Echeverria, Diego Catano, Joaquin Cosio, Jake McLaughlin, Joel David Moore, Leonard Roberts, Shea Whigham

Director: Oliver Stone

Screenwriters: Shane Salerno, Don Winslow, Oliver Stone, based on the novel by Don Winslow

Producers: Moritz Borman, Eric Kopeloff

Executive producers: Todd Arnow, Fernando Sulichin, Shane Salerno

Director of photography: Dan Mindel

Production designer: Tomas Voth

Costume designer: Cindy Evans

Editors: Joe Hutshing, Stuart Levy, Alex Marquez

Music: Adam Peters

Rated R, 129 minutes

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Without Gorky: LAFF Review

As the title of Cosima Spenders documentary suggests, the painter Arshile Gorky both is and isnt its subject. The filmmaker acknowledges the enduring power of his work and his profound influence on Abstract Expressionism, but the true focus of Without Gorky is the reverberations of his suicide on the family he left behind. More than 60 years after his death, theyre still grappling with the emotional fallout, Spender included shes the artists granddaughter.

The directors closeness to her material is its strength and, to a lesser extent, its weakness. Her interviews with Gorkys widow and children her grandmother, mother and aunt lend the film an undeniable intimacy. At the same time, the evidence of rifts and tensions grows repetitive, and occasionally an uncomfortable feeling seeps into the film, the sense that Spender is making a private point to her relatives more than she is speaking to a public audience. But Gorkys story, with its secrets, mysteries and torments, is nonetheless a fascinating one. The doc, which screened in the International Showcase section of the recent Los Angeles Film Festival, is a natural for arts-oriented cable and broadcast outlets.

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Self-invention is elemental to every artist, but for Gorky it was extreme. It wasnt until after his death in 1948, at about age 46 (theres no sure documentation of his birth date) that his wife learned his real name, Vosdanig Adoian, and that he was Armenian. His psychological instability in adulthood takes on a different cast in light of the revelation that he experienced genocide firsthand, as a boy, and watched his mother die of starvation.

Spenders determination to quiet the white noise of her life, the pain that Gorky felt and inflicted, leads her and her family to previously unknown relatives in California and, most poignantly, to the peaceful shores of Lake Van, in Turkey, one of the sites of unspeakable atrocities during the Armenian massacres.

But much of her films running time unfolds stateside, as she visits with her mother, Maro; her aunt, Natasha; and Agnes Mougouch Magruder, her elegant and flinty grandmother. Spender takes Maro and Natasha, 5 and 3 at the time of Gorkys suicide, to the Connecticut house where it happened. Now well into middle age, Natasha has no conscious memories of her father, feels no connection to her mother and says she has been in shock most of her life.

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Firstborn Maro still struggles to forgive her mother for having an extramarital affair and for sending her daughters to boarding school after she was widowed.

Its evident that Mougouch was never a warm maternal figure. An aspiring painter when she met Gorky, 20 years her senior, she welcomed the dimension that he brought to her bourgeois life. When she speaks of the literal heaviness of his canvases, thick with elaborately worked paint, her admiration is clear. No less clear is the anguish she felt as his setbacks, deepening depression, drinking and cruelty drove her away.

As a force both creative and destructive, Gorky persists. Any truces that Spender captures onscreen feel provisional, and however many answers she finds about her grandfather, Without Gorky never suggests that this traumatized family will easily achieve resolution or peace.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival

A Peacock Pictures and Arshile Gorky Foundation production
with the support of the National Endowment for the Arts and the Dadourian Foundation

Director: Cosima Spender

Writers: Cosima Spender, Valerio Bonelli, Saskia Spender

Producers: Cosima Spender, Valerio Bonelli

Directors of photography: Benjamin Kracun, Ula Pontikos, Cosima Spender

Music: Jason Cooper and Oliver Krauss with Matteo Cipollina

Co-producer: Anna Teeman

Editor: Valerio Bonelli

No MPAA rating, 80 minutes

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Without Gorky: LAFF Review

As the title of Cosima Spenders documentary suggests, the painter Arshile Gorky both is and isnt its subject. The filmmaker acknowledges the enduring power of his work and his profound influence on Abstract Expressionism, but the true focus of Without Gorky is the reverberations of his suicide on the family he left behind. More than 60 years after his death, theyre still grappling with the emotional fallout, Spender included shes the artists granddaughter.

The directors closeness to her material is its strength and, to a lesser extent, its weakness. Her interviews with Gorkys widow and children her grandmother, mother and aunt lend the film an undeniable intimacy. At the same time, the evidence of rifts and tensions grows repetitive, and occasionally an uncomfortable feeling seeps into the film, the sense that Spender is making a private point to her relatives more than she is speaking to a public audience. But Gorkys story, with its secrets, mysteries and torments, is nonetheless a fascinating one. The doc, which screened in the International Showcase section of the recent Los Angeles Film Festival, is a natural for arts-oriented cable and broadcast outlets.

STORY: LA Film Festival Lineup Includes World Premiere of Channing Tatum's 'Magic Mike'

Self-invention is elemental to every artist, but for Gorky it was extreme. It wasnt until after his death in 1948, at about age 46 (theres no sure documentation of his birth date) that his wife learned his real name, Vosdanig Adoian, and that he was Armenian. His psychological instability in adulthood takes on a different cast in light of the revelation that he experienced genocide firsthand, as a boy, and watched his mother die of starvation.

Spenders determination to quiet the white noise of her life, the pain that Gorky felt and inflicted, leads her and her family to previously unknown relatives in California and, most poignantly, to the peaceful shores of Lake Van, in Turkey, one of the sites of unspeakable atrocities during the Armenian massacres.

But much of her films running time unfolds stateside, as she visits with her mother, Maro; her aunt, Natasha; and Agnes Mougouch Magruder, her elegant and flinty grandmother. Spender takes Maro and Natasha, 5 and 3 at the time of Gorkys suicide, to the Connecticut house where it happened. Now well into middle age, Natasha has no conscious memories of her father, feels no connection to her mother and says she has been in shock most of her life.

STORY: LAFF 2012: Cinedigm's Chris McGurk Predicts a Digital-Driven Indie Film Renaissance

Firstborn Maro still struggles to forgive her mother for having an extramarital affair and for sending her daughters to boarding school after she was widowed.

Its evident that Mougouch was never a warm maternal figure. An aspiring painter when she met Gorky, 20 years her senior, she welcomed the dimension that he brought to her bourgeois life. When she speaks of the literal heaviness of his canvases, thick with elaborately worked paint, her admiration is clear. No less clear is the anguish she felt as his setbacks, deepening depression, drinking and cruelty drove her away.

As a force both creative and destructive, Gorky persists. Any truces that Spender captures onscreen feel provisional, and however many answers she finds about her grandfather, Without Gorky never suggests that this traumatized family will easily achieve resolution or peace.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival

A Peacock Pictures and Arshile Gorky Foundation production
with the support of the National Endowment for the Arts and the Dadourian Foundation

Director: Cosima Spender

Writers: Cosima Spender, Valerio Bonelli, Saskia Spender

Producers: Cosima Spender, Valerio Bonelli

Directors of photography: Benjamin Kracun, Ula Pontikos, Cosima Spender

Music: Jason Cooper and Oliver Krauss with Matteo Cipollina

Co-producer: Anna Teeman

Editor: Valerio Bonelli

No MPAA rating, 80 minutes

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Gypsy: Film Review

Awkwardly blending neo-realism with heavy-handed allusions to Hamlet, Gypsy depicts the troubled life of a Roma teen in Slovakia with ethnological precision but turgid dramaturgy. Although valuable for shedding light on this relatively unseen population of Eastern Europe, Martin Suliks film, currently receiving its U.S. theatrical premiere at NYCs Film Forum, suffers from serious overstuffing.

The central character is fourteen-year-old Adam (Janko Mizigar), whose father (Ivan Mirga) is run down by a car and killed under mysterious circumstances. Shortly thereafter, his mother (Miroslava Jarabekova) marries his uncle, Zigo (Miroslav Gulyas), a shady loan shark who wastes no time enlisting Adam and his brother Marian (Martin Hangurbadzo), who is addicted to glue sniffing, into his nefarious activities.

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Countering Zigos malicious presence -- he has no compunction about fleecing his whitey victims -- is a local priest (Attila Mokos) who, in shades of a 1930s Warner Bros. melodrama, attempts to channel the village kids energies into such positive activities as boxing.

Further adding to the Shakespearean borrowings are the repeated appearances of the ghost of Adams father, who provides a series of dramatic plot revelations.

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Other characters figuring in the convoluted narrative are Adams strong- willed girlfriend (Martina Kotlarova) and a crew of white documentary filmmakers whose friendliness doesnt quite disguise their underlying racism.

Shot in an actual Slovakian Roma community and leavened with generous doses of gypsy folk music, the film boasts an undeniable authenticity that is aided by the gritty performances of the largely non-actor cast. But the filmmaker cant resist throwing in an occasional burst of lyricism, especially in a sequence involving stolen ostriches. But sometimes, an ostrich is just an ostrich.

Production: In Film, Titanic, RTVS, CT.

Cast: Janko Mizigar, Martin Hangurbadzo, Martinka Kotlarova, Miroslava Jarabekova, Miroslav Gulyas, Ivan Mirga, Attila Mokos.

Director: Martin Sulik.

Screenwriters: Maret Lescak, Martin Sulik.

Producers: Rudolf Biermann, Martin Sulik.

Director of photography: Martin Sec.

Editor: Jiri Brozek.

Music: Peter Mojzis.

Production designer: Frantisek Liptak.

No rating, 107 min.

Read More

Gypsy: Film Review

Awkwardly blending neo-realism with heavy-handed allusions to Hamlet, Gypsy depicts the troubled life of a Roma teen in Slovakia with ethnological precision but turgid dramaturgy. Although valuable for shedding light on this relatively unseen population of Eastern Europe, Martin Suliks film, currently receiving its U.S. theatrical premiere at NYCs Film Forum, suffers from serious overstuffing.

The central character is fourteen-year-old Adam (Janko Mizigar), whose father (Ivan Mirga) is run down by a car and killed under mysterious circumstances. Shortly thereafter, his mother (Miroslava Jarabekova) marries his uncle, Zigo (Miroslav Gulyas), a shady loan shark who wastes no time enlisting Adam and his brother Marian (Martin Hangurbadzo), who is addicted to glue sniffing, into his nefarious activities.

STORY: Oscars' Foreign-Language Film Cheat Sheet: A Country-by-Country Guide

Countering Zigos malicious presence -- he has no compunction about fleecing his whitey victims -- is a local priest (Attila Mokos) who, in shades of a 1930s Warner Bros. melodrama, attempts to channel the village kids energies into such positive activities as boxing.

Further adding to the Shakespearean borrowings are the repeated appearances of the ghost of Adams father, who provides a series of dramatic plot revelations.

STORY: Hungarian Film Fund to Finance Three Projects

Other characters figuring in the convoluted narrative are Adams strong- willed girlfriend (Martina Kotlarova) and a crew of white documentary filmmakers whose friendliness doesnt quite disguise their underlying racism.

Shot in an actual Slovakian Roma community and leavened with generous doses of gypsy folk music, the film boasts an undeniable authenticity that is aided by the gritty performances of the largely non-actor cast. But the filmmaker cant resist throwing in an occasional burst of lyricism, especially in a sequence involving stolen ostriches. But sometimes, an ostrich is just an ostrich.

Production: In Film, Titanic, RTVS, CT.

Cast: Janko Mizigar, Martin Hangurbadzo, Martinka Kotlarova, Miroslava Jarabekova, Miroslav Gulyas, Ivan Mirga, Attila Mokos.

Director: Martin Sulik.

Screenwriters: Maret Lescak, Martin Sulik.

Producers: Rudolf Biermann, Martin Sulik.

Director of photography: Martin Sec.

Editor: Jiri Brozek.

Music: Peter Mojzis.

Production designer: Frantisek Liptak.

No rating, 107 min.

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The Last Elvis: LAFF Review

Like another recent feature from Latin America, 2008s Tony Manero, the Argentine drama The Last Elvis (El ltimo Elvis) revolves around a pop-culture obsession that has tipped into the territory of dangerous delusion. But director Armando Bos first feature a selection of the recent Los Angeles Film Festival is nowhere near as dark or politically pointed as the earlier film from Chile. Anchored by a knockout performance by real-life Elvis Presley tribute artist John McInerny, Bos sympathetic character study focuses on the emptiness of one mans life as he braces for his last stand.

Bo and co-writer Nicols Giacobone, two of the credited screenwriters of Alejandro Gonzlez Irritus Biutiful, offer no easy conclusions or redemption for their protagonist. (Elvis is a far more cohesive and convincing film than Biutiful.) A factory worker by day and small-time star by night, Carlos Elvis Gutirrez has built his entire life, such as it is, around this borrowed identity. In his shabby, barely furnished apartment, his small-screen viewing consists entirely of Presley concerts and interviews. He insists on calling his ex-wife (Griselda Siciliani) Priscilla, though her name is Alejandra; their young daughter (Margarita Lopez), naturally, is named Lisa Marie.

Carlos awkward stabs at paternal behavior tend toward such advice as Remember to keep a level head and the gift of a bird that he has taught to say Elvis. Having run out of patience and believing that hes not a good influence on their daughter, Alejandra is seeking sole custody. But after a serious accident puts his ex in the hospital, Carlos and the wary grade-schooler forge a deeper bond, even as he struggles to offer her something more lasting than peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches.

The accident also puts Elvis big scheme unrevealed until late in the film on hold. His calls to airlines and limo companies, along with his plan to perform the showstopper Unchained Melody at a gig, signal a leap away from the assembly line. Whether it leads him toward fulfillment or deeper into delusion is up for interpretation, but when the film takes a sharp turn, out of Buenos Aires, Bo and McInerny make the far-fetched events, and the ambiguous ending, work.

An architect and part-time Elvis crooner who Bo originally hired as a coach for his lead actor, McInerny is utterly compelling. He turns the unlikely Carlos into a rooting interest, revealing the still-sputtering spark behind the portly, hangdog exterior. When Carlos takes the stage in his Vegas-era white suit (nice work by costume designers Luciana Marti and Manuela Marti), his smooth baritone and supple phrasing are evidence not merely of talent but of a dignity that makes his striving as heartening as it is pitiful. Among the other celebrity impersonators with whom he crosses paths (Iggy Pop, John Lennon and Mick Jagger wander into view in various scenes), Carlos considers himself nothing less than the King.

Sebastian Escofets pulsing score heightens the sense that Carlos obsessive devotion is moving toward a decisive event. Javier Julias deft camerawork and the production design by Daniel Gimelberg build the subjective atmosphere, an intriguing mix of somber and droll, gritty and chimerical.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival
A presentation of Rebolucion, Kramer & Sigman Films and Anonymous Content, with the participation of INCAA and Telefe
(In Spanish with English subtitles)
Cast: John McInerny, Griselda Siciliani, Margarita Lopez
Director: Armando Bo
Screenwriters: Nicols Giacobone, Armando Bo
Producers: Steve Golin, Hugo Sigman, Patricio Alvarez Casado, Victor Bo, Armando Bo
Executive producers: Patricio Alvarez Casado, Matias Mosteirin
Director of photography: Javier Julia
Production designer:Daniel Gimelberg
Music: Sebastian Escofet
Costume designers: Luciana Marti, Manuela Marti
Editor: Patricio Pena
No MPAA rating, 91 minutes

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Falling Flowers: Shanghai Review

The main interest in the overly classical period piece Falling Flowers is its faithful retelling of the life of renowned woman writer Xiao Hong (1911-1942), whose bold independence and devotion to art strikes a modern chord. Though this biopic that doesnt scratch the surface very deeply, director Huo Jianqi (Postmen in the Mountains, Life Show) is a sure-handed craftsman whose portrait of the artist has a strongly emblematic quality; had it also been moving, it would have had wider art house appeal. As stands, it should entice curious festival viewers to read her highly rated books The Field of Life and Death and Tales of Hulan River.

In 1941 a young woman lays dying in Hong Kong, attended by an anxious young man. Xiao Hong (Song Jia) tells him her life story in flashback, beginning with growing up in the cold, melancholic northeastern China. Despite her academic promise, her conservative father forces her to drop out of school to marry a rich dandy. She resists, but they end up living together out of wedlock, causing both their wealthy families to disown them. When she gets pregnant he abandons her in an attic, kick-starting a life of poverty and sacrifice which Hong defiantly embraces.

Thanks to dashing newspaper editor Xiao Jun (Huang Jue), who becomes the love of her life, she narrowly escapes being sold to a brothel to pay back rent. She falls for him because hes an ex-soldier, a writer and a fighter, and they start a poor but romantic life together as intellectuals in 1930s Shanghai, where they co-publish books and plays. Mentioned briefly is Hongs association with literary giant Lu Xun, who wrote complimentary prefaces to her writing and helped get her books into print. Xiao Juns incorrigible two-timing ends their love affair, and their teary farewell at a train station is as close as the film comes to an affecting moment. Her marriage to the much younger Duanmu (Wang Renjun) is more pragmatic than romantic, and from there its a short step to her illness and death at age 31 during the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong.

In the main role, Song Jia depicts Hong as a tough, modern woman capable of withstanding war and hardship but still the emotional victim of the man she loves. Professional, sharp-tongued but afraid of being left alone, shes an easy figure to identify with, particularly in her frustrating relationship with a charming Huang Jue. More about her writing would have been welcome, however.

Music veers towards the predictable and saccharine, but Shi Luans gorgeous colors won the best cinematography award at the Shanghai film festival.

Venue: Shanghai Film Festival, June 20, 2012.
Production companies: Talent International Film Co.
Cast: Song Jia, Huang Jue, Wang Renjun, Zhang Bo, Wu Chao, Mi Zian, Li Yiling, Li Fengxu, Sun Weiming, Zhang Tong
Director: Huo Jianqi
Screenwriters: Yi Fuhai, Su Xiaowei
Producers: Han Sanping, Wu Hongliang
Director of photography: Shi Luan
Production designer: Lu Feng
Editor: Yu Xi
Music: Shu Nan
No rating, 121 minutes.

Read More

Falling Flowers: Shanghai Review

The main interest in the overly classical period piece Falling Flowers is its faithful retelling of the life of renowned woman writer Xiao Hong (1911-1942), whose bold independence and devotion to art strikes a modern chord. Though this biopic that doesnt scratch the surface very deeply, director Huo Jianqi (Postmen in the Mountains, Life Show) is a sure-handed craftsman whose portrait of the artist has a strongly emblematic quality; had it also been moving, it would have had wider art house appeal. As stands, it should entice curious festival viewers to read her highly rated books The Field of Life and Death and Tales of Hulan River.

In 1941 a young woman lays dying in Hong Kong, attended by an anxious young man. Xiao Hong (Song Jia) tells him her life story in flashback, beginning with growing up in the cold, melancholic northeastern China. Despite her academic promise, her conservative father forces her to drop out of school to marry a rich dandy. She resists, but they end up living together out of wedlock, causing both their wealthy families to disown them. When she gets pregnant he abandons her in an attic, kick-starting a life of poverty and sacrifice which Hong defiantly embraces.

Thanks to dashing newspaper editor Xiao Jun (Huang Jue), who becomes the love of her life, she narrowly escapes being sold to a brothel to pay back rent. She falls for him because hes an ex-soldier, a writer and a fighter, and they start a poor but romantic life together as intellectuals in 1930s Shanghai, where they co-publish books and plays. Mentioned briefly is Hongs association with literary giant Lu Xun, who wrote complimentary prefaces to her writing and helped get her books into print. Xiao Juns incorrigible two-timing ends their love affair, and their teary farewell at a train station is as close as the film comes to an affecting moment. Her marriage to the much younger Duanmu (Wang Renjun) is more pragmatic than romantic, and from there its a short step to her illness and death at age 31 during the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong.

In the main role, Song Jia depicts Hong as a tough, modern woman capable of withstanding war and hardship but still the emotional victim of the man she loves. Professional, sharp-tongued but afraid of being left alone, shes an easy figure to identify with, particularly in her frustrating relationship with a charming Huang Jue. More about her writing would have been welcome, however.

Music veers towards the predictable and saccharine, but Shi Luans gorgeous colors won the best cinematography award at the Shanghai film festival.

Venue: Shanghai Film Festival, June 20, 2012.
Production companies: Talent International Film Co.
Cast: Song Jia, Huang Jue, Wang Renjun, Zhang Bo, Wu Chao, Mi Zian, Li Yiling, Li Fengxu, Sun Weiming, Zhang Tong
Director: Huo Jianqi
Screenwriters: Yi Fuhai, Su Xiaowei
Producers: Han Sanping, Wu Hongliang
Director of photography: Shi Luan
Production designer: Lu Feng
Editor: Yu Xi
Music: Shu Nan
No rating, 121 minutes.

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Day of the Flowers: Edinburgh Review

His role may be secondary, but ballet-superstar Carlos Acosta's quietly promising feature-film debut is the saving grace of would-be crowdpleaser Day of the Flowers, a broad-strokes comedy-drama about Scottish sisters discovering family secrets on a visit to Cuba. After bowing at Edinburgh to largely tepid reception, this blandly-handled affair may - like director John Robert's last outing, BBC doggie tale Station Jim (2001) - prove a better fit for domestic television than theaters or festivals. Overseas, the presence of Acosta will be the main selling-point, though the dancer's admirers may be disappointed to find that the Havana-born star's feet remain - much like the movie itself - largely earthbound.

The main problem is Eirene Houston's script (all of previous credits are small-screen) with its two-dimensional characterizations, functional-at-best dialogue and over-reliance on heated exchanges. Most of the latter involve socially-engaged Rosa (Eva Birthistle) and her fashionista sibling Ailie (Charity Wakefield), a chalk-and-cheese duo with barely a trace of family resemblance. That the pair are far from close is evident from the larkishly-handled opening, as they squabble over the decision by their stepmother (quick cameo from Scottish veteran Phyllis Logan) to convert their recently-deceased father's ashes into a golf-themed ornament.

Making off with the mortal remains during the funeral reception - a scene played for clumsy laughs - the idealistic Rosa decides to take them to Cuba, the country where her Socialist parents regularly spent time in the 1970s helping the revolutionary struggle. Rosa's long-suffering pal Conway (Bryan Dick) accompanies her, and Ailie impulsively decides to tag along - primarily attracted by the prospect of a sunny seaside holiday. Predictably enough, both sisters find the journey an eye-opening experience, as their quest to track down the exact whereabouts of their late mother's remains - they hope to pour both sets of ashes into a particular river on the feast-day that provides the movie's title - brings them into contact with various facets of Cuban society.

Amid much culture-clash confusion, there's no shortage of romantic possibilities for the attractive sisters - the statuesque Ailie displays her assets in a succession of flashily over-the-top, revealing outfits, and nice-guy ballet-teacher Tomas (Acosta) gently tries to entice the highly-strung Rosa out of her politically-correct cocoon. But as the lasses gradually piece together the truth about what went on three decades before, the complications, ironies and revelations messily tangle into a telenovela-style stew of emotions.

On the plus side, Day of the Flowers makes fair use of its locations, cinematographer Vernon Layton garnering some alluringly atmospheric backdrops with his 35mm cameras (the picture was projected digitally at Edinburgh) and imparting some flavors of a fascinatingly contradictory land. Stephen Warbeck's score, however, underlines every mood and emotion with excessive volume and zeal - typical of Roberts' general difficulty in finding the right tone for his material in this belated third feature after two family-focused 1990s outings: Warner Bros co-production The War of the Buttons (1994) and Dreamworks' parrot-centric Paulie (1998).

In Day of the Flowers, performances are generally energetic - occasionally to the point of exaggeration, the actors' efforts not helped by some flat post-synch sound. Thankfully Acosta, exuding a commandingly feline poise, provides a welcome contrast from the general air of frenetic strain in his second big-screen appearance - three years after a segment in 2009 portmanteau-pic New York, I Love You opposite Natalie Portman. Now 39, the famously athletic Cuban shows enough in terms of acting chops to suggest that he might be able to take some further steps in this direction - though hopefully he'll find scripts more tailored to his skills and worthier of his talents.

Venue: Edinburgh International Film Festival, June 23, 2012.
Production company: Rogue Elephant
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Charity Wakefield, Carlos Acosta, Bryan Dick, Christopher Simpson
Director: John Roberts
Screenwriter: Eirene Houston
Producer: Jonathan Rae
Director of photography: Vernon Layton
Production designer: Andrew Sanders
Costume designer: Leonie Hartard
Music: Stephen Warbeck
Editors: David Freeman, John Wilson
Sales Agent: Rogue Elephant, London
No rating, 102 minutes.

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Day of the Flowers: Edinburgh Review

His role may be secondary, but ballet-superstar Carlos Acosta's quietly promising feature-film debut is the saving grace of would-be crowdpleaser Day of the Flowers, a broad-strokes comedy-drama about Scottish sisters discovering family secrets on a visit to Cuba. After bowing at Edinburgh to largely tepid reception, this blandly-handled affair may - like director John Robert's last outing, BBC doggie tale Station Jim (2001) - prove a better fit for domestic television than theaters or festivals. Overseas, the presence of Acosta will be the main selling-point, though the dancer's admirers may be disappointed to find that the Havana-born star's feet remain - much like the movie itself - largely earthbound.

The main problem is Eirene Houston's script (all of previous credits are small-screen) with its two-dimensional characterizations, functional-at-best dialogue and over-reliance on heated exchanges. Most of the latter involve socially-engaged Rosa (Eva Birthistle) and her fashionista sibling Ailie (Charity Wakefield), a chalk-and-cheese duo with barely a trace of family resemblance. That the pair are far from close is evident from the larkishly-handled opening, as they squabble over the decision by their stepmother (quick cameo from Scottish veteran Phyllis Logan) to convert their recently-deceased father's ashes into a golf-themed ornament.

Making off with the mortal remains during the funeral reception - a scene played for clumsy laughs - the idealistic Rosa decides to take them to Cuba, the country where her Socialist parents regularly spent time in the 1970s helping the revolutionary struggle. Rosa's long-suffering pal Conway (Bryan Dick) accompanies her, and Ailie impulsively decides to tag along - primarily attracted by the prospect of a sunny seaside holiday. Predictably enough, both sisters find the journey an eye-opening experience, as their quest to track down the exact whereabouts of their late mother's remains - they hope to pour both sets of ashes into a particular river on the feast-day that provides the movie's title - brings them into contact with various facets of Cuban society.

Amid much culture-clash confusion, there's no shortage of romantic possibilities for the attractive sisters - the statuesque Ailie displays her assets in a succession of flashily over-the-top, revealing outfits, and nice-guy ballet-teacher Tomas (Acosta) gently tries to entice the highly-strung Rosa out of her politically-correct cocoon. But as the lasses gradually piece together the truth about what went on three decades before, the complications, ironies and revelations messily tangle into a telenovela-style stew of emotions.

On the plus side, Day of the Flowers makes fair use of its locations, cinematographer Vernon Layton garnering some alluringly atmospheric backdrops with his 35mm cameras (the picture was projected digitally at Edinburgh) and imparting some flavors of a fascinatingly contradictory land. Stephen Warbeck's score, however, underlines every mood and emotion with excessive volume and zeal - typical of Roberts' general difficulty in finding the right tone for his material in this belated third feature after two family-focused 1990s outings: Warner Bros co-production The War of the Buttons (1994) and Dreamworks' parrot-centric Paulie (1998).

In Day of the Flowers, performances are generally energetic - occasionally to the point of exaggeration, the actors' efforts not helped by some flat post-synch sound. Thankfully Acosta, exuding a commandingly feline poise, provides a welcome contrast from the general air of frenetic strain in his second big-screen appearance - three years after a segment in 2009 portmanteau-pic New York, I Love You opposite Natalie Portman. Now 39, the famously athletic Cuban shows enough in terms of acting chops to suggest that he might be able to take some further steps in this direction - though hopefully he'll find scripts more tailored to his skills and worthier of his talents.

Venue: Edinburgh International Film Festival, June 23, 2012.
Production company: Rogue Elephant
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Charity Wakefield, Carlos Acosta, Bryan Dick, Christopher Simpson
Director: John Roberts
Screenwriter: Eirene Houston
Producer: Jonathan Rae
Director of photography: Vernon Layton
Production designer: Andrew Sanders
Costume designer: Leonie Hartard
Music: Stephen Warbeck
Editors: David Freeman, John Wilson
Sales Agent: Rogue Elephant, London
No rating, 102 minutes.

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Day of Flowers: Edinburg Review

His role may be secondary, but ballet-superstar Carlos Acosta's quietly promising feature-film debut is the saving grace of would-be crowdpleaser Day of the Flowers, a broad-strokes comedy-drama about Scottish sisters discovering family secrets on a visit to Cuba. After bowing at Edinburgh to largely tepid reception, this blandly-handled affair may - like director John Robert's last outing, BBC doggie tale Station Jim (2001) - prove a better fit for domestic television than theaters or festivals. Overseas, the presence of Acosta will be the main selling-point, though the dancer's admirers may be disappointed to find that the Havana-born star's feet remain - much like the movie itself - largely earthbound.

The main problem is Eirene Houston's script (all of previous credits are small-screen) with its two-dimensional characterizations, functional-at-best dialogue and over-reliance on heated exchanges. Most of the latter involve socially-engaged Rosa (Eva Birthistle) and her fashionista sibling Ailie (Charity Wakefield), a chalk-and-cheese duo with barely a trace of family resemblance. That the pair are far from close is evident from the larkishly-handled opening, as they squabble over the decision by their stepmother (quick cameo from Scottish veteran Phyllis Logan) to convert their recently-deceased father's ashes into a golf-themed ornament.

Making off with the mortal remains during the funeral reception - a scene played for clumsy laughs - the idealistic Rosa decides to take them to Cuba, the country where her Socialist parents regularly spent time in the 1970s helping the revolutionary struggle. Rosa's long-suffering pal Conway (Bryan Dick) accompanies her, and Ailie impulsively decides to tag along - primarily attracted by the prospect of a sunny seaside holiday. Predictably enough, both sisters find the journey an eye-opening experience, as their quest to track down the exact whereabouts of their late mother's remains - they hope to pour both sets of ashes into a particular river on the feast-day that provides the movie's title - brings them into contact with various facets of Cuban society.

Amid much culture-clash confusion, there's no shortage of romantic possibilities for the attractive sisters - the statuesque Ailie displays her assets in a succession of flashily over-the-top, revealing outfits, and nice-guy ballet-teacher Tomas (Acosta) gently tries to entice the highly-strung Rosa out of her politically-correct cocoon. But as the lasses gradually piece together the truth about what went on three decades before, the complications, ironies and revelations messily tangle into a telenovela-style stew of emotions.

On the plus side, Day of the Flowers makes fair use of its locations, cinematographer Vernon Layton garnering some alluringly atmospheric backdrops with his 35mm cameras (the picture was projected digitally at Edinburgh) and imparting some flavors of a fascinatingly contradictory land. Stephen Warbeck's score, however, underlines every mood and emotion with excessive volume and zeal - typical of Roberts' general difficulty in finding the right tone for his material in this belated third feature after two family-focused 1990s outings: Warner Bros co-production The War of the Buttons (1994) and Dreamworks' parrot-centric Paulie (1998).

In Day of the Flowers, performances are generally energetic - occasionally to the point of exaggeration, the actors' efforts not helped by some flat post-synch sound. Thankfully Acosta, exuding a commandingly feline poise, provides a welcome contrast from the general air of frenetic strain in his second big-screen appearance - three years after a segment in 2009 portmanteau-pic New York, I Love You opposite Natalie Portman. Now 39, the famously athletic Cuban shows enough in terms of acting chops to suggest that he might be able to take some further steps in this direction - though hopefully he'll find scripts more tailored to his skills and worthier of his talents.

Venue: Edinburgh International Film Festival, June 23, 2012.
Production company: Rogue Elephant
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Charity Wakefield, Carlos Acosta, Bryan Dick, Christopher Simpson
Director: John Roberts
Screenwriter: Eirene Houston
Producer: Jonathan Rae
Director of photography: Vernon Layton
Production designer: Andrew Sanders
Costume designer: Leonie Hartard
Music: Stephen Warbeck
Editors: David Freeman, John Wilson
Sales Agent: Rogue Elephant, London
No rating, 102 minutes.

Read More

Day of Flowers: Edinburg Review

His role may be secondary, but ballet-superstar Carlos Acosta's quietly promising feature-film debut is the saving grace of would-be crowdpleaser Day of the Flowers, a broad-strokes comedy-drama about Scottish sisters discovering family secrets on a visit to Cuba. After bowing at Edinburgh to largely tepid reception, this blandly-handled affair may - like director John Robert's last outing, BBC doggie tale Station Jim (2001) - prove a better fit for domestic television than theaters or festivals. Overseas, the presence of Acosta will be the main selling-point, though the dancer's admirers may be disappointed to find that the Havana-born star's feet remain - much like the movie itself - largely earthbound.

The main problem is Eirene Houston's script (all of previous credits are small-screen) with its two-dimensional characterizations, functional-at-best dialogue and over-reliance on heated exchanges. Most of the latter involve socially-engaged Rosa (Eva Birthistle) and her fashionista sibling Ailie (Charity Wakefield), a chalk-and-cheese duo with barely a trace of family resemblance. That the pair are far from close is evident from the larkishly-handled opening, as they squabble over the decision by their stepmother (quick cameo from Scottish veteran Phyllis Logan) to convert their recently-deceased father's ashes into a golf-themed ornament.

Making off with the mortal remains during the funeral reception - a scene played for clumsy laughs - the idealistic Rosa decides to take them to Cuba, the country where her Socialist parents regularly spent time in the 1970s helping the revolutionary struggle. Rosa's long-suffering pal Conway (Bryan Dick) accompanies her, and Ailie impulsively decides to tag along - primarily attracted by the prospect of a sunny seaside holiday. Predictably enough, both sisters find the journey an eye-opening experience, as their quest to track down the exact whereabouts of their late mother's remains - they hope to pour both sets of ashes into a particular river on the feast-day that provides the movie's title - brings them into contact with various facets of Cuban society.

Amid much culture-clash confusion, there's no shortage of romantic possibilities for the attractive sisters - the statuesque Ailie displays her assets in a succession of flashily over-the-top, revealing outfits, and nice-guy ballet-teacher Tomas (Acosta) gently tries to entice the highly-strung Rosa out of her politically-correct cocoon. But as the lasses gradually piece together the truth about what went on three decades before, the complications, ironies and revelations messily tangle into a telenovela-style stew of emotions.

On the plus side, Day of the Flowers makes fair use of its locations, cinematographer Vernon Layton garnering some alluringly atmospheric backdrops with his 35mm cameras (the picture was projected digitally at Edinburgh) and imparting some flavors of a fascinatingly contradictory land. Stephen Warbeck's score, however, underlines every mood and emotion with excessive volume and zeal - typical of Roberts' general difficulty in finding the right tone for his material in this belated third feature after two family-focused 1990s outings: Warner Bros co-production The War of the Buttons (1994) and Dreamworks' parrot-centric Paulie (1998).

In Day of the Flowers, performances are generally energetic - occasionally to the point of exaggeration, the actors' efforts not helped by some flat post-synch sound. Thankfully Acosta, exuding a commandingly feline poise, provides a welcome contrast from the general air of frenetic strain in his second big-screen appearance - three years after a segment in 2009 portmanteau-pic New York, I Love You opposite Natalie Portman. Now 39, the famously athletic Cuban shows enough in terms of acting chops to suggest that he might be able to take some further steps in this direction - though hopefully he'll find scripts more tailored to his skills and worthier of his talents.

Venue: Edinburgh International Film Festival, June 23, 2012.
Production company: Rogue Elephant
Cast: Eva Birthistle, Charity Wakefield, Carlos Acosta, Bryan Dick, Christopher Simpson
Director: John Roberts
Screenwriter: Eirene Houston
Producer: Jonathan Rae
Director of photography: Vernon Layton
Production designer: Andrew Sanders
Costume designer: Leonie Hartard
Music: Stephen Warbeck
Editors: David Freeman, John Wilson
Sales Agent: Rogue Elephant, London
No rating, 102 minutes.

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Breakfast With Curtis: LAFF Review

A slew of independent movies in the early 2000s, including Little Miss Sunshine, Juno and Napoleon Dynamite among them, seem to have somehow convinced a subsequent wave of filmmakers that its sufficient for films to simply be quirky to succeed.

In her third feature, writer-director Laura Colella enters similarly idiosyncratic territory, but with decidedly less persuasive results. Too unfocused to be considered a coming-of-ager, theres little indication that Breakfast With Curtis will be of much interest beyond friends, family and perhaps film festivals.

For years, nextdoor neighbors Syd (Theo Green) and Simon (David Parker) have been at odds after Syd browbeats and threatens Simons kid Curtis (Jonah Parker) in a self-absorbed tirade. Five years later, the neighbors are still barely speaking, until Syd hits on a scheme to recruit Curtis for a project hes percolating. A bookseller who repurposes selections from his personal collection, Syds beginning to feel pressure from his clients to put more information about himself and his library online, but has no clear idea how the internet really works. Now an awkward, home-schooled teen, Curtis agrees to assist with shooting videos for Syds promotional campaign, since hes bored and pretty much friendless anyway.

Simon and his wife Sylvie (Virginia Laffey) are more reluctant to let Syds past transgressions go, but they recognize Curtis need to overcome his social anxiety, and besides, Simon already buys pot from Syds tenant Frenchy (Aaron Jungels), who lives in the attic of the rambling house called the purple citadel with his girlfriend Paola (Colella).

Syds ideas for the videos are offbeat to say the least, consisting of long ramblings about his life experiences and exploits. Curtis patiently tapes them on a consumer video camera, transfers them to his laptop and uploads them to YouTube, where Syd is thrilled to see them accumulating literally dozens of views.

After reaching a truce of sorts with Syds household, Curtis parents are getting along great with his girlfriend Pirate (Adele Parker), Frenchy and Paola, smoking pot or drinking wine and cocktails in the long summer afternoons and into the evening. Curtis immersion in this slacker scene prompts him to marginally emerge from his shell of shyness and begin socializing more like a typical teenager.

Not much else happens in Colellas laid-back film and despite much discussion about this being Curtis "seminal summer," there are no real revlations, perhaps because the narrative is as rambling as Syds purple citadel. Colella has apparently collected a series of anecdotes based on her actual neighbors and strung them together with a thin thematic thread, but no definitive storyline emerges.

A tight budget reportedly inspired Colella to bring her friends onto the DIY project as collaborators and presumably take on most of the key filmmaking roles herself, which is perhaps why the creative elements are so indistinct from one another.

With the exception of the filmmaker herself, none of the cast are actually actors and their appearances on camera could barely be termed performances, inasmuch as theyre essentially playing themselves. Line readings are often either forced or casually tossed off, making little impression. Without much of a narrative for guidance and an inexperienced cast to wrangle, Colella sticks to an unremarkable production style that gets the job done, but not much more.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival

Cast: Theo Green, Jonah Parker, David Parker, Virginia Laffey, Aaron Jungels, Yvonne Parker, Adele Parker, Laura Colella, Gideon Parker

Director/screenwriter: Laura Colella

Producer: Laura Colella

Executive producer: Michael A. Jackman

Director of photography: Laura Colella

Editor: Laura Colella

No rating, 82 minutes

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The Last Elvis: LAFF Review

Like another recent feature from Latin America, 2008s Tony Manero, the Argentine drama The Last Elvis (El ltimo Elvis) revolves around a pop-culture obsession that has tipped into the territory of dangerous delusion. But director Armando Bos first feature a selection of the recent Los Angeles Film Festival is nowhere near as dark or politically pointed as the earlier film from Chile. Anchored by a knockout performance by real-life Elvis Presley tribute artist John McInerny, Bos sympathetic character study focuses on the emptiness of one mans life as he braces for his last stand.

Bo and co-writer Nicols Giacobone, two of the credited screenwriters of Alejandro Gonzlez Irritus Biutiful, offer no easy conclusions or redemption for their protagonist. (Elvis is a far more cohesive and convincing film than Biutiful.) A factory worker by day and small-time star by night, Carlos Elvis Gutirrez has built his entire life, such as it is, around this borrowed identity. In his shabby, barely furnished apartment, his small-screen viewing consists entirely of Presley concerts and interviews. He insists on calling his ex-wife (Griselda Siciliani) Priscilla, though her name is Alejandra; their young daughter (Margarita Lopez), naturally, is named Lisa Marie.

Carlos awkward stabs at paternal behavior tend toward such advice as Remember to keep a level head and the gift of a bird that he has taught to say Elvis. Having run out of patience and believing that hes not a good influence on their daughter, Alejandra is seeking sole custody. But after a serious accident puts his ex in the hospital, Carlos and the wary grade-schooler forge a deeper bond, even as he struggles to offer her something more lasting than peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches.

The accident also puts Elvis big scheme unrevealed until late in the film on hold. His calls to airlines and limo companies, along with his plan to perform the showstopper Unchained Melody at a gig, signal a leap away from the assembly line. Whether it leads him toward fulfillment or deeper into delusion is up for interpretation, but when the film takes a sharp turn, out of Buenos Aires, Bo and McInerny make the far-fetched events, and the ambiguous ending, work.

An architect and part-time Elvis crooner who Bo originally hired as a coach for his lead actor, McInerny is utterly compelling. He turns the unlikely Carlos into a rooting interest, revealing the still-sputtering spark behind the portly, hangdog exterior. When Carlos takes the stage in his Vegas-era white suit (nice work by costume designers Luciana Marti and Manuela Marti), his smooth baritone and supple phrasing are evidence not merely of talent but of a dignity that makes his striving as heartening as it is pitiful. Among the other celebrity impersonators with whom he crosses paths (Iggy Pop, John Lennon and Mick Jagger wander into view in various scenes), Carlos considers himself nothing less than the King.

Sebastian Escofets pulsing score heightens the sense that Carlos obsessive devotion is moving toward a decisive event. Javier Julias deft camerawork and the production design by Daniel Gimelberg build the subjective atmosphere, an intriguing mix of somber and droll, gritty and chimerical.

Venue: Los Angeles Film Festival
A presentation of Rebolucion, Kramer & Sigman Films and Anonymous Content, with the participation of INCAA and Telefe
(In Spanish with English subtitles)
Cast: John McInerny, Griselda Siciliani, Margarita Lopez
Director: Armando Bo
Screenwriters: Nicols Giacobone, Armando Bo
Producers: Steve Golin, Hugo Sigman, Patricio Alvarez Casado, Victor Bo, Armando Bo
Executive producers: Patricio Alvarez Casado, Matias Mosteirin
Director of photography: Javier Julia
Production designer:Daniel Gimelberg
Music: Sebastian Escofet
Costume designers: Luciana Marti, Manuela Marti
Editor: Patricio Pena
No MPAA rating, 91 minutes

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