How to become a film critic (or not)

It’s the 30th comment in a “he said, she said” post about the ridiculous Armond White v. J. Hoberman “kerfuffle” (that seems to be the most popular term for describing it) — a beautiful defense of film criticism itself by the estimable F.X. Feeney:

The whole scrimmage that’s been set up between internet critics and print critics operates on a false premise — the idea that somebody is actually going to win this contest.

Speaking as one who has, at best, eked a marginal living in the racket since 1980 (I have no 401K to defend against the likes of Harry Knowles, and never have) I would like to point out that James Agee sets the standard NOT because he wrote “for print,” but because he WROTE, period.

Film Criticism at its best is nothing more or less than the practice of literature. A humble corner of literature, to be sure — but talent, depth of comprehension and communication are the arbiters of what’s good and true. They always were, always will be. The topic is fleeting, and today’s insight wraps tomorrow’s fish, but the abiding joy comes of saying what you’ve experienced so truthfully and so well that strangers get your meaning whether they agree or not.

December 14, 2012

My scene with Kristofferson

We have in the past examined my stunning and unforgettable cameo appearance in David Mamet’s 1987 directorial debut feature “House of Games.” What you may not know is that I also co-starred with Kris Kristofferson, Keith Carradine, Genevieve Bujold, Lori Singer, Joe Morton and Divine in Alan Rudolph’s 1986 “Trouble in Mind,” which was also shot in Seattle. Well, OK, I appeared in the background of a few shots. But I did share screen space with Singer (“Footloose,” “Short Cuts”) — and Kristofferson, for at least a few 24 fps frames. As you can see above.

Here’s the behind-the-scenes set-up: I was having the time of my life booking first-run “art films” at my friend Ann Browder’s 250-seat Market Theater, formerly the Pike Place Cinema in the cobblestone Lower Post Alley in Seattle’s historic Pike Place Farmer’s Market. I can’t remember how I had met Alan Rudolph, but I had interviewed him a few times and he had the world premiere his first film, “Welcome to L.A.” (1977) in Seattle at the Harvard Exit Theater. (Robert Altman made one of his many trips to Seattle for that premiere, and hosted the world premiere of “3 Women” at the same theater.) “Choose Me” had also been a smash at the Seattle International Film Festival, of which I was a co-director/programmer. Anyway, this all comes together, trust me…

December 14, 2012

Death and life of an editor: Karen Schmeer, 1970-2010

The tweet from Errol Morris came through a little before noon on Saturday, January 30:

SENSELESS TRAGEDY: My beloved editor Karen Schmeer was killed last night by a car used in the robbery of a drugstore. She was 39 years old.

It was a freak hit-and-run accident just before 8 p.m.on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Karen Schmeer, on her way home from working on an HBO documentary about chess player Bobby Fischer, was crossing Broadway at 90th when she was struck by a rented 2010 Dodge Avenger, which was being pursued by police following a Zyrtec robbery at the CVS pharmacy on 86th and Amsterdam. The alleged driver was arrested and charged with second degree murder. Two other male suspects fled on foot.

December 14, 2012

Ebert has another surgery

Ebert takes the stage at the Overlooked Film Festival.

Roger Ebert, who has been under treatment for slow-growing, non-life-threatening tumors on his thyroid and salivary glands for some years, will be having another surgery in June. Roger’s energy level has certainly not flagged in recent months (he just got back from covering the Cannes Film Festival — and was out late at the Steak & Shake after the movies at his Overlooked Film Festival in April).

More details from a report in the Chicago Sun-Times by Robert Feder:

“It is not life threatening, and I expect to make a full recovery,” [Ebert] said. “I’ll continue to function as a film critic during this time.”

Ebert had surgery to remove a malignant tumor on his thyroid gland in 2002 and two surgeries on his salivary gland in 2003.

Unlike those earlier procedures, Ebert is not expected to require radiation therapy this time.

“This is known as a slow growing and persistent cancer,” he said. “You live with it.”

December 14, 2012

Touché, Dupree!

Owen Wilson has released a statement responding to the claim by members of Steely Dan that “You, Me and Dupree” was a rip-off of their song “Cousin Dupree.”:

“I have never heard the song ‘Cousin Dupree’ and I don’t even know who this gentleman, Mr. Steely Dan, is. I hope this helps to clear things up and I can get back to concentrating on my new movie, ‘Hey Nineteen.'”

December 14, 2012

Maher vs. Mohammed

Here’s what Bill Maher said on his HBO show last Friday night:

MAHER: The most popular name in the United Kingdom, Great Britain — this was in the news this week — for babies this year was Mohammed. Am I a racist to feel alarmed by that? Because I am. And it’s not because of the race, it’s because of the religion. I don’t have to apologize, do I, for not wanting the Western world to be taken over by Islam in 300 years?

MARGARET HOOVER: If you were with NPR you’d be fired.

MAHER: Right. That’s so similar to Juan Williams, who said last week, ‘I’m nervous –‘

LAWRENCE O’DONNELL (MSNBC): No, it’s worse. It’s way worse than what Juan Williams said.¹

December 14, 2012

Some ways to watch Inglourious Basterds [sic]

“When I’m making a movie, the world goes away and I’m on Mt. Everest. Obama is President? Who cares? I’m making my movie.”

— Quentin Tarantino, Village Voice interview (2009)

A wily WWII Looney Tunes propaganda movie that conjures up 1945’s “Herr Meets Hare,” (in which Bugs Bunny goes a-hunting with Hermann Goering in the Black Forest; full cartoon below) and the towering legends of Sergio Leone’s widescreen Westerns — and about a gazillion other movies and bits of movie history from Leni Riefenstahl to Anthony Mann to Brian De Palma — Quentin Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” is a gorgeous and goofy revenge cartoon, a conceptual genre picture about the mythmaking power of cinema. Re-writing history? That’s missing the point by several kilometers. This is pure celluloid fantasy — an invigorating wallow in the vicarious pleasures of movie-watching by someone who would rather watch movies than do anything else in the world. Except maybe talk about them.

I spent the last week preparing for “Inglourious Basterds” by watching the two Tarantinos I’d missed: both volumes of “Kill Bill” and “Death Proof.” (I came to think of it as the Foot-Fetish Film Festival.) So, with that in mind, I thought I’d begin by taking a general look at how I think Tarantino’s movies work — what they do, and what they don’t do — because, although I haven’t read more than a few brief passages from other “Basterds” reviews yet, people seem to think there’s been a lot of misrepresentation and/or misinterpretation going around (starting with Newsweek and The Atlantic). Some clearly wanted or expected the movie to be something else. A morality lesson, perhaps. But those other movies would not be ones Quentin Tarantino has ever shown any interest in making. “Inglourious Basterds,” love it or hate it (and I think it puts most contemporary American filmmaking to shame), it is what it is because it’s exactly the way Tarantino wants it to be. Let’s consider…

December 14, 2012

Iranian homage to Pink Flamingos

Don’t forget: The protests continue. This was forwarded by Farid, a friend in Iran. Nice ‘stache. Is Ahmadinejad now “The Filthiest Person Alive”? I have some other candidates…

December 14, 2012

Opening Shots: ‘The Crying Game’

Enlarge image: Your eye just naturally alights on the figure to the right of the support…

Enlarge image: …who moves slowly along the shore in the opposite direction of the camera. (Here, the person is dead center in the frame.)

From Edward Copeland:

When Jim asked me to submit something about my favorite opening shot from a movie, I was at first flummoxed — it seemed all the best ones were obvious and would have been written on to death, so I dug through my memory to try to find a less-obvious choice.

What I settled on was “The Crying Game.” I was fortunate to see “The Crying Game” for the first time long before the hype about the “twist” kicked in, so I was genuinely surprised at the direction the film went in and I think, upon rewatching its opening, that the beginning was helpful to that end.

Percy Sledge’s great “When a Man Loves a Woman” plays on the soundtrack (the irony of that song will only sink in later) as the camera moves slowly under a bridge across a lake where on the other side sits an amusement park with Ferris wheels and various rides going round and round. If you had no idea going in where this film was headed, you certainly couldn’t have figured it out by these images, though you’d be mesmerized nonetheless.

December 14, 2012

Cannes & Cannes-not: On being a movie geek

We all live in our own little subcultures. In mine — loosely categorized as international film-festival cinephiliacs — big-name contemporary filmmakers such as Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Abbas Kiarostami, Michael Haneke and the Dardennes brothers (yes, they’ve all won the Palme d’Or at Cannes) are huge, huge stars. In fact, some of us, whether we like them or not, feel they are overexposed, on the verge of becoming more than famous: ubiquitous. Like Kardashians or something. (I’ll be honest: I don’t know what a Kardashian is, but I keep hearing the term.) I mean, good god, the Dardennes have been all in your face throughout the 21st century, making movie after movie and picking up awards everywhere you look. And don’t even get me started on Kiarostami. That guy became the international flavor-of-the-film-fest-cicruit in the 1980s, achieved his biggest commercial success in 2010, and has a new film in competition at Cannes right now.

I suppose it’s true that, to most people outside our own little coterie, the Cannes Film Festival means just about nothing. Its impact on the American box office is negligible (although Kiarostami’s Palme-winner “Taste of Cherry” grossed a pretty impressive $312 thousand in the US in 1998. That’s about what “Marvel’s The Avengers” took in while you were reading the last sentence). I guess fame — or importance — depends on your perspective.

A few things got me to thinking about this. One was Manohla Dargis’s NY Times dispatch from Cannes. I love her observations:

December 14, 2012

From Wasilla to Fargo: Sarah Palin in Rashomon

Michael Cera, on his decision to act in “Juno” (or “Juneau”):

“Well, I had a feeling when I took the part that something like that would happen, that Sarah Palin would run and her teen would be pregnant, and so I’m glad that it finally was fulfilled.”

☺☺☺☺

The Fargo Interview, with Marge Gunderson:

Gosh darn it, whether ya just love her or ya can’t stand her, there’s something about that Sarah Palin that’s got everybody talkin’ — whether it’s tryin’ to talk her kinda plain ol’ “Say it ain’t so, Joe Sixpack” Hockey Mom talk, or just tryin’ to figure out what the heck the gal is sayin’! Can ya tell what she thinks she means when she flaps that lipstick, or do ya just like the sparkle motion she makes when the words come out? Get back to me on that! Anyways, here we go again, with a buncha ways of looking at that Sarah Palin Talk that everybody’s talkin’ about:

Linguist Steven Pinker, “Everything You Heard Is Wrong,” New York Times, October 4, 2008:

Since the vice presidential debate on Thursday night, two opposing myths have quickly taken hold about Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska. The first, advanced by her supporters, is that she made it through a gantlet of fire; the second, embraced by her detractors, is that her speaking style betrays her naïveté. Both are wrong. […]

But it would be unfair to question the authenticity of her accent or to use it as a measure of her intellect or sophistication. The dialect is certainly for real. Listeners who hear the Minnewegian sounds of the characters from “Fargo” when they listen to Ms. Palin are on to something: the Matanuska-Susitna Valley in Alaska, where she grew up, was settled by farmers from Minnesota during the Depression.

December 14, 2012

Critics and ‘crackpots’

Photo from The Reeler: VanAirsdale and Zacharek on the right; Edelstein and Gleiberman on the left.

In other Contrarian News:

The Reeler (aka S.T. VanAirsdale) moderated a critics’ panel on the best and worst films of 2006 Wednesday in New York. The critics: David Edelstein (New York Magazine), Owen Gleiberman (Entertainment Weekly) and Stephanie Zacharek (Salon.com). According to The Reeler’s own account of the evening, Zacharek said, “…I think there is some sort of unspoken sort of pressure. Like, ‘If I put something really weird on there, people are just going to think I’m cracked.’ ” Writes VanAirsdale:

I couldn’t control myself. “Exactly!” I said. “So how long before we admit that Top 10s are completely intellectually bankrupt exercises?”

“I think what Stephanie has captured, though — if what (she’s) saying is true — is that these lists have become very political,” Gleiberman said. “But in a strange way; not in the way of people putting on these big commercial movies so they please their editors and to show that they’re on the side of the people. But even in picking idiosyncratic films, it’s films that all the critics kind of collude on deciding are good; therefore, maybe they can get away with putting those films on their list in terms of their editors. But the point is that they’re not reflecting 100 percent themselves. And I don’t get the idea of any critic who reflects anything other than himself. What’s the point of going into this profession? It’s not really that important anyway. I mean, it’s all about your own reaction. I think if you take that out of it, you’ve lost the reason for doing it.”

“That’s why you should all treasure the crackpots,” Edelstein told the crowd. “You know? Don’t look for the people who are just going to rubber-stamp the Oscar-winning movies. Seek out minority points of view — even insane points of view — that maybe will help you do some fresh thinking, because it’s amazing how easily we settle into this conventional wisdom. Even critics, in our splendid arrogance, I mean… I can’t tell you how lazy my thinking is and how often, and how I need great critics to shake me up. Like, you know, the people on this panel.”

OK, this exchange strikes me as peculiar (and a little disturbing) in several respects:

December 14, 2012

Sven Nykvist, 1922 – 2006

View image Sven Nykvist, behind the camera.

Roger Ebert interviewed the late master cinematographer Sven Nykvist in a fascinating visit to the set of “Face to Face” in 1975:

Sven Nykvist photographs Bergman’s films. He is tall, strong, fifty-one, with a beard and a quick smile. He is usually better-dressed than Bergman, but then almost everyone is; “Ingmar,” a friend says, “does not spend a hundred dollars a year for personal haberdashery.” Nykvist first worked for Bergman on ‘The Naked Night’ in 1953, and has been with him steadily since ‘The Virgin Spring’ in 1959. This will be his nineteenth title for Bergman, and the two of them together engineered Bergman’s long-delayed transition from black and white to color, unhappily in “All These Women” and then triumphantly in “A Passion of Anna” and “Cries and Whispers.”

Nykvist is in demand all over the world, and commands one of the half-dozen highest salaries among cinematographers, but he always leaves his schedule open for Bergman. “We’ve already discussed the new film the year before,” he says, “and then Ingmar goes to his island and writes the screenplay. The next year, we shoot — usually about the fifteenth of April. Usually we are the same eighteen people working with him, year after year, one film a year.”

At the Cannes Film Festival one year, he said, Bergman was talking with David Lean, the director of “Lawrence of Arabia” and “Dr. Zhivago.” “What kind of crew do you use?” Lean asked. “I make my films with eighteen good friends,” Bergman said. “That’s interesting,” said Lean. “I make mine with 150 enemies.”

December 14, 2012

Opening Shots: Memento

From Andrew Davies:

I think the first shot of Christopher Nolan’s Memento could be best described as the film in miniature because of how the subject of the shot establishes several important elements of the film. The credits begin on a dark screen. The title “MEMENTO” is still there as the shot fades in, placing the title over the image of a hand holding a photograph. Placing the title over the image of the photograph links the word and the image, telling the audience this photograph is a memento of…something.

The photograph, which is that of a man dead on the floor, his blood on the wall and floor, establishes several important things about the film. The photograph first establishes the narrative structure of the film because as it is shaken, the picture fades instead of develops. This represents how the film begins at the end of the story and progresses, so to speak, to the beginning. The fading of the photograph also establishes the mental state of its main character, the man holding the photograph, Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearce). Like the photograph, Leonard’s memory fades. He has short term memory loss, caused by an intruder who raped and murdered his wife in a home break in. His mission through the film is to find “John G,” the name he gives to the intruder. The photograph, in of itself, establishes one of the ways in which Leonard tries to keep track of people and places he will forget is to take photographs of them, writing captions underneath the picture.

December 14, 2012

Everything that’s wrong with the world in two examples

View image Forget it, Jim. It’s Whatpassesfor- logicandreasonintheworld-town.

“Something is happening here but you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?”

— Robert Zimmerman, 1965

I do not believe that the greatest evil is done by people who necessarily think of themselves as evil. Because evil doesn’t often recognize itself. In “Chinatown,” Noah Cross says: “Most people never have to face the fact that, at the right time and the right place, they’re capable of anything.” Implicit in this statement is his refusal to accept responsibility for what he has done. As he says, “I don’t blame myself.” There’s great truth in Cross’s words, and also in a corollary I’ll propose, which goes like this: “Most people refuse to face the fact that, at the right time and the right place, they can rationalize anything.” (See this post for more on that score.)

I think the most inherently “evil” person I’ve ever known, the one who did the most careless damage to people around him, was not a mere malevolent creep but someone who was pathologically clueless and could not conceive of anything or anyone beyond himself. He was a parasite, sucking the life blood out of those closest to him. His hosts — er, “friends” — eventually came to see that he considered them (if he considered them at all) insignificant — unintended consequences of himself — while people who knew him only casually (which was the best, and perhaps only, way to “know” him) thought he was just a really nice guy. He needed symbiotic relationships to feed his sense of self, and any harm to others as a result of his appetite was nothing more than acceptable collateral damage. If he was aware of it at all.

I see these patterns not only in everyday life, but in the behavior of governments, bureaucracies, businesses, public officials, and tyrants of all stripes. And I think it all comes down to that common quality of cluelessness — either obliviousness to the consequences of one’s words and actions or reckless disregard for them. Woody Allen (who, by the way, made a great movie about cluelessness, “Another Woman”) divided the world into the “horrible and the miserable.” For the sake of this essay, I would like to propose that we divide rampant worldwide insanity into Two Kinds of Cluelessness: 1) Literalism: Those who are certain they know something, but don’t know that they don’t understand it; and 2) Über-Solipsism Narcissism: Those who are certain they understand something, but but don’t know — and don’t care — that they don’t, because everything is only about them anyway.

I will always remember reading “Catch-22” at the tender age of 15, because I was already aware of this kind of insanity in people around me (family, friends, schoolmates, teachers, President Nixon and Vice President Agnew, the Watergate crew, and even — in my craziest moments — myself), but I’d never seen anybody else recognize it — and play with it — so hilariously. It was a huge catharsis for me, an acknowledgment of my pent-up frustrations, and I laughed until I cried and cried until I started laughing again.

Let me give you a pair of examples from the “Cinema Interruptus” I did with “Chinatown” in April at the Conference on World Affairs in Boulder, CO. First, let me say it was a fantastic experience for me, and that the participants in the audience were inquisitive and incisive and generally brilliant, as always.

And then there were these other two…

December 14, 2012

Andrew Sarris, auteurism, and his take on his own legacy

“All of us will always owe him everything.”

— Glenn Kenny on Andrew Sarris, quoting Jean-Luc Godard on Orson Welles

Andrew Sarris, “who loved movies” (as Roger Ebert described him), was long considered the “dean of American film critics.” Reading the accounts and appreciations of him today, I was surprised to see how many people perpetuated the myth that Sarris and Pauline Kael were like the print era’s Siskel & Ebert who, instead of facing off with each other over new movies on TV week after week, carried on a robust public debate about auteurism and film theory for decades. That didn’t happen. And that mischaracterization does a disservice to Sarris, to Kael and to Siskel & Ebert, all of whom were taking their own distinctive and original approaches to movie reviewing and criticism. I think what’s most important on the occasion of Sarris’s passing is to acknowledge that his substantial critical legacy cannot be defined in terms of anything Pauline Kael wrote about him and the politique des auteurs in 1963 — and certainly not in the way his and the Cahiers du Cinema critics’ views were misrepresented in Kael’s famous snipe, “Circles and Squares: Joys and Sarris.”

Let’s get this straight: Sarris, who had spent some time in France and acquainted himself with the Cahiers du Cinema critics (Andre Bazin, Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol, Rivette, Rohmer, et al.), published an essay in Film Culture called “Notes on the Auteur Theory in 1962” (download .pdf here). In it he set out to explain the French notion of what he called “auteurism” for an American audience.*

December 14, 2012

TABLOID: Still headlines after all these years

Above: Joyce McKinney and Errol Morris at a screening of “Tabloid” at the Vista Theatre in Los Angeles (Los Feliz), July 13, 2011. I believe that’s her dog’s leash she’s holding. (photo by Tiffany Rose)

“Joyce and I are getting along just fine. (Another Q&A in LA with an extraordinary woman.)”

— @errolmorris, Twitter, July 14, 2011

At the end of my review of Errol Morris’s “Tabloid,” I quoted from a New York Times story about his “Tabloid” subject and primary storyteller, Joyce McKinney, appearing at pre-release screenings in Austin (SxSW), Sarasota, San Francisco, Seattle and New York, to protest the film’s portrayal of her. In the Times piece, she said:

“I sat till the audience started to leave and waited for the precise moment, and then jumped up and yelled, ‘I’m Joyce McKinney!’ ” she said, with considerable glee. “They went crazy.”

I quoted one of the producers of “Tabloid” (in which he called the picture “a Looney Tunes ‘Rashomon'”) and concluded: “Do these people know how to sell a movie or what?”

In recent interviews, Morris has been asked about these appearances and he’s professed some bewilderment — not only about her motivations, but how she’s financing her transportation. Morris told Matt Singer at IFC.com:

December 14, 2012

Random thoughts while attending Ebertfest 2012

Above: The Demanders: Jana Monji, Roger Ebert, Jim Emerson, Steven Boone, Odie Henderson, Donald Liebenson. In absentia: Jeff Shannon, Kevin B. Lee. Reflected in TV: Wael Khairy. Steak ‘n Shake shake courtesy of Michal Oleszczyk, who also took this photo with my camera.

Every once in a while circumstances have conspired to keep me from attending Ebertfest, but the main thing that draws me back are the people I get to see and watch movies with while I’m there, from David Bordwell (with whom I rode from Madison to Champaign-Urbana) to Festival Co-Conspirator Joan Cohl to The Man Himself, Roger Ebert, whose presence animates the event, even when he isn’t in the on-stage spotlight.

For me, there were no major discoveries or revelations this year — like, say, Jeff Nichols’ “Shotgun Stories” or Yôjirô Takita’s “Departures” or the astounding, mind-blowing 70mm print of Jacques Tati’s “PlayTime” in past Ebertfests — but that almost seemed beside the point. (Though I highly recommend a snappy, endlessly inventive low-budget picture called “Citizen Kane.” It’s terrific!)

I’m happiest hanging around, in the Virginia Theatre or the “green room” (where participants gather for lunch and dinner) with, to name but a few, some of The Demanders (a small group of writers I work with who cover VOD) or the Far-Flung Correspondents, who write about movies from their home bases all over the world: Egypt, Brazil, Turkey, South Korea… even Chicago.

December 14, 2012

British film Philistines

No they didn’t. Did they?

Oh, those ignorant Brits! The Guardian recently published the results of its public poll for the “40 Greatest Foreign [sic] Films of All Time.” Of course, we love these silly consensus games because they offer such a terrific opportunity to express outrage. Like this fellow, who denounces his limey countrymen (and -women) for their cretinous taste in a letter to the editor:

Your list of the top 40 greatest foreign films, voted for by readers (Films and music, May 11), serves only to expose the paucity of foreign-language films in the UK, together with a chronic loss of knowledge or appreciation of cinema history. What we get is a hotchpotch of well-worn classics and recent international hits of dubious merit. Your film writers chide the voters too gently. There is only one silent film (“Battleship Potemkin”): no “Napoleon,” “Metropolis,” “Passion of Joan of Arc” or “The Last Laugh. ” Only one other title from before 1945 (Renoir’s “Régle du Jeu)”; and no room for Dreyer, Lang, Murnau, Gance, Vertov, Mizoguchi, Rossellini, Antonioni or Visconti (where is “The Leopard”?). Then to find Roberto Benigni’s inane and offensive “Life is Beautiful” included is the final insult.Clyde Jeavons

LondonYikes! Those Brits should be barred from the cinema! Why, if USA Today were to conduct such a poll, the results would be… probably very similar. (But how do you tell what language the actors are speaking in a silent film when the intertitles have been swapped out? Best Films Not Lip-Read in English?) I have a better idea. Let’s do a poll of the 40 best films of all time that were not made in any of the Romance Languages. Or how about the best films of all time in which nobody speaks Welsh. That ought to be comparably enlightening…

December 14, 2012
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