Certain Women

Certain Women
seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn NY


Kelly Reichardt would've been a great Italian neo-realist. Her films have a spartan, stripped-down look as far removed from Hollywood gloss as you can get. I'm sure that's probably deceptive. As lean as Wendy and Lucy, Meek's Cutoff, and her new one, Certain Women, look, she has to think about composition, lighting, sound and all that stuff like any other director. Still, much of the time, she makes it look relatively simple.


A hallmark of Reichardt's films is the way she makes her characters work. Obviously all movies have action, but she places a strong emphasis on people doing everyday things and showing us the simple truth of it, unadorned and unblinking. If you've seen her films, this will make more sense than the poor way I'm describing this trait.

For example, for me the most memorable moment of Meek was watching Michelle Williams load a rifle with gunpowder and shoot it, all in a single take, and all in a bit of a hurry. Williams, a 21st century woman, had to learn how to do this 19th century task for this movie and make it look real. Nor does Reichardt cut it in a stylish way or any other way. She just points the camera and shoots, and we watch Williams do the whole thing. That's what I mean by the truth of a task.

Women has comparable moments. Lily Gladstone's character is a rancher. We see her do all the things associated with that job, including feeding and tending the horses, and driving a tractor. We get long, silent takes of nothing more than her at her job. This is the kind of thing I've come to think of when regarding Reichardt and her films.

Women is an anthology of short, interconnected stories set in Montana, of all places. The majestic mountain ranges loom proudly in the background of all three stories. Laura Dern is a lawyer called in to negotiate a hostage situation involving one of her clients; Williams, Reichardt's muse throughout all of her films to date, is in the process of building a new home for her family; and Kristen Stewart is a night school teacher who's the object of Gladstone's secret affection.

My descriptions make Women sound more exciting, perhaps, than it is. I knew the kind of film to expect - I enjoyed Wendy and Lucy and Meek wasn't bad either - but with Women I kinda hoped for something more... I dunno. Substantial? These women's lives are interesting in their own little ways, but I wouldn't call them cinematic based on the slivers we're given.

Dern's hostage situation involves only one hostage, and neither his nor her lives ever feel threatened in any way. Williams and her husband quarrel, but even though hubby looks like he's having an affair with Dern, nothing is made of this. And though Gladstone comes to realize Stewart doesn't return her affections, she doesn't do anything about it except return to her life on the ranch. So while I don't necessarily feel this film was a waste of my time, I don't know what I'm supposed to get out of it either.

Vija and the rest of the crew saw it before I did. I was unable to see it with them. In talking about the movie with me on Facebook, Vija made the point that "we are so used to seeing blockbusters that when you see a movie about emotions and everyday life, it may feel small, but it isn't.... This is not an easy film and it veers away from stereotypes."

She also thought the film was (mostly) about obsession: Dern's client's obsession to obtain justice from the corporation that wronged him, Gladstone's obsession with Stewart. And she believed Dern's affair wasn't meant to be a thing. So maybe she gets it more than I do.

Under the Skin

Under the Skin
seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn, NY
4.22.14

A Twitter friend recently described a brief encounter in which some dude on the street verbally harassed her - you know, saying how "hot" she was while passing by in his car, that sort of thing. It's the kind of incident that happens to many young women, only in this particular case, it happened back when the weather was colder and she was wearing a thick coat. She was able to put it in perspective, though; she tweeted that whenever a guy does this, it's not about looks, it's about being a woman alone.

I thought of that as I watched Under the Skin yesterday, an amazing movie that's difficult to describe. It's a singular visual and auditory experience unlike anything else I've seen this year, but if there was one idea that resonated with me as I watched, it was the notion of aloneness, of isolation. Scarlett Johansson's character is alone in a sense, being an extraterrestrial among humans (though she does have at least one accomplice), as are the young men she ensnares for some nefarious yet unexplained purpose.

Something about being alone, however, stuck out for me, and not just because it figures into the plot. I think it has something to do with how one is perceived when they're alone as opposed to being with others, as alluded to in the example of my Twitter friend. Johansson's unnamed character emulates humanity well: she dresses like a human, drives a car like one, and talks to people like one, and no one suspects any different, even though it's all a lie - skin deep, you could say. Her looks are important; she uses seduction to lure the young men into her trap. The fact that she's alone makes her less threatening.

I'm constantly aware of how strangers perceive me when I'm alone. My size gets me a lotta "big man" remarks, particularly from homeless people who want money, but from other strangers as well. I don't like it. It makes me feel self-conscious. I mean, these people probably think they're putting me at ease by saying that, but in fact it's just the opposite. Whenever I'm traveling somewhere, be it by bus or train or just walking, I wanna be left alone. In a city the size of New York, though, that's difficult, because there's always somebody hustling you for something (and being black, I get hustled harder by other black people).

Also, when I'm alone, I can come across as being very dour. I know this because sooner or later, there's somebody urging me to smile for whatever reason, especially when I don't feel like smiling. A recent example: my sister Lynne and her husband are musicians, and I was working the door at one of their band's live shows in the city, taking tickets. I didn't particularly wanna be there that night, but I promised her I would, so I did. Many, if not all, of the audience were friends of hers, and a number of them were the type that acts overly familiar with you, even if you're a total stranger. 

I certainly wasn't interested in having conversations with anyone; I just tried to do my job, but what I thought was dispassionate professionalism struck this one woman as being dour, so she urged me to smile. My instinct was to bash her head in for being so goddamn presumptuous, but I couldn't embarrass Lynne, so I made a fake grin, which seemed to satisfy this lady.

Being alone makes you more vulnerable to other people's perceptions, which you can't control. They think they know you, they think they can be your friend, they think they can scam you, they think they have some proprietary right to your time (or worse, your body), and while their ulterior motives may be totally benign and harmless, you never know when someone will lure you back to their place for what you think will be sex only to sink into some kinda liquid-y goo and have your insides sucked out.

I found Skin fascinating but very disturbing as well. I don't want to get into the major Plot Twist that changes the nature of Johansson's character and the movie as well, because it's something you absolutely need to experience first-hand. I will say, though, that it ties into the concept of isolation, but from a different angle. (I think I know what really happened, though - as opposed to what appeared to happen. If you've seen it and you wanna talk about it, save it for the comments.)

ScarJo has come a hell of a long way. It's nice to know that she's still willing to take roles as unique as this now that she's a legitimate star. She's never been sexier than she is here, but oddly enough, her nude scenes here aren't quite sexual. She takes a detached approach to her fabulous body in Skin because it's as alien to her (in more ways than one, if my theory on the Twist is correct) as this world. She's not so much acting as being.

The score is also an important factor in Skin. In places, it's not so much music as it is ambient sound, especially in the 2001-esque beginning, where you're not quite sure what it is you're seeing or hearing (I thought it was ScarJo's character trying to learn English).

Her

Her
seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn, NY
12.28.13

Forgive me in advance, but it's impossible for me to talk about Her without bringing up Star Trek. Why? Because artificial intelligence and the question of whether or not it can achieve what we call humanity is and has always been a common theme in Trek history. I think even the casual Trekkie can understand - in the future, as technology gets more and more sophisticated and plays a bigger and bigger part in our daily lives, our relationship with it will inevitably change.

It's something I've talked about here before (also in relation to Trek), but AI is a whole different animal. Anyone who spends enough time surfing the Net may be aware of the breakthroughs that have been made in robotics, and voice-activated software, and things like that. I remember a couple of years ago, I was playing around with an online program that was designed to hold a "conversation" with you as if it were a true AI, but in fact, it was simply a highly sophisticated program that had a wide variety of pre-programmed responses to direct questions. (No, I don't remember where it is.) Stuff, like this, though, is kids play compared to the more advanced stuff.

In Trek, one always sees this dichotomy between human life and artificial life: the latter is generally depicted as missing a certain something that makes it truly "human," but over time, its actions force us to redefine "humanity" as something more than a matter of biology. In the Original Series, Captain Kirk repeatedly exposed computer intelligences that others regarded as being indistinguishable from biological ones, or in some cases, better. In the first Trek movie, a super-computer created by man evolved to the point where it needed the spark of humanity to exceed its programming and become a new form of life.

In the latter day Trek spinoffs, we became acquainted with characters like Data, an android who strives to fully understand humanity despite the handicap of being programmed without human emotion; the Emergency Medical Hologram, a holographic intelligence forced by unusual circumstances to serve humanity beyond its original function, and becomes more human-like in the process; and others in similar situations. 

We see them do things that humans do, and at every turn the question is raised as to whether or not doing these things makes them more human. At times, they've had to stand up for their right to exist as free-thinking individuals. In the end, though, what they are matters less than what they do, which makes them equal beneficiaries of the future built by humanity, in which the content of one's character matters more than physical appearance or personal ideology. 

Her tackles a similar premise, filtered through perhaps the greatest of human traits: the capacity to love. The way we function with technology today, in some ways, is not unlike a romantic relationship in some ways. I know that I've developed a strong attachment with my laptop in the last five years. It has become my constant companion whenever I need to write, and sometimes I get anxious when I have it with me but I'm unable to use it, whether for lack of table space in a coffee shop, or lack of a Wi-Fi connection, or what have you. My cellphone has taken on a similar aspect. 

Does this mean I'm in love with my gadgets? No, of course not. I don't think of them as being sentient. I go on Twitter to talk to my flesh-and-blood friends, not to my cellphone. I know that my gadgets don't have the capacity to interact with me the way humans can. But what if they did? For all of my easy acceptance of the premises in Trek involving AIs, if it were me in the position of learning to accept one as an individual, much less a potential lover, I'm not sure how well I could pull it off. 

As I watched Her, one comparison that sprung to mind for me was that of a long-distance relationship - two people living far apart from each other. Being in one another's physical presence is impossible, therefore the two lovers must make do with only words, whether over the phone or through online communication. (Yes, I know about Skype; I didn't say it was a perfect comparison. Even that's not the same as physical presence, though.)

Long-distance relationships are doable, but man, are they difficult. It requires a great deal of trust that your lover will remain faithful in the absence of your physical presence. It requires being able to live on the few stolen moments in which you can communicate with your lover, assuming they're not busy with something else - or that you're not busy with something else. And it requires faith that your love is strong enough to withstand prolonged separation. Yes, I have tried it, and I didn't like it.

But is it better than no relationship at all, especially when you have trouble connecting with other people, as Joaquin Phoenix' character does? God knows I get lonely. I have a misanthropic streak that does keep me from reaching out to people sometimes, but I don't know whether it's the cause of me not finding love, or the result. I think, if I were desperate and lonely enough, I might be able to see myself growing attached to a self-aware gadget (though I wouldn't be nearly as open about it as Phoenix' character), but the lack of physicality would be a big problem. Scarlet Johansson's AI character attempts to find a way to compensate for this in one weird scene. I think I might go for her solution, the more I think about it.

The ending of Her wasn't what I expected. It goes slightly askew from my genre expectations built from over twenty years of watching Trek, but then, this isn't Trek and doesn't pretend to be. I think a future like the one depicted here is coming sooner than we think, and we as a species need to figure out how we're gonna deal with it. Will artificial intelligence be given the opportunity to evolve and flourish in its own way, its own time, or will it be something to be feared and hated? Sounds like science fiction... but personal computers that fit into the palm of your hand seemed the same way too, once.

On an unrelated tangent: there was a piece in the New York Times about Her in which the production designer talked about de-emphasizing the hard tech aspects of the futuristic setting. At one point he mentions how the future Los Angeles utilized the above-street-level pedestrian walkways of Pudong, Shanghai. As a result, one only sees cars way off in the distance in the film. I found it interesting that cars are much less of a presence in the future America of Her. The best part is, they don't appear to be missed from the look of it. A small thing, perhaps, but worth mentioning.

BAMCinemaFest: Mother of George

I've spoken here before about my feelings on starting families. To reiterate: I understand why people choose to do it, but I think reproduction is happening far too much by far too many people unqualified to be parents (or anything else), and that soon we'll reach a point where this planet can no longer sustain so many people.

That doesn't stop folks from making babies, though, especially when it's a cultural imperative, as we see in the new film Mother of George, director Andrew Dosunmu's follow-up to his feature debut, Restless City. It played at the Brooklyn Academy of Music during its fifth annual CinemaFest film festival. I hadn't planned on seeing anything else at the fest - I found out about it late - but I knew I had to see this one.

'Mother' star Danai Gurira

Set within a Nigerian community in Brooklyn, it's about a newlywed couple, Ayodele and Adenike, who want to have kids. In fact, it's kind of expected of them by the larger community of family and friends, in particular Ayodele's mother. However, the couple can't quite get it going, so to speak, and Adenike is scapegoated for it, which puts a strain on her marriage. Eventually, she realizes that she may have to consider alternate methods.

Mother reminded me more than a little bit of the film Breaking the Waves, although I can't say specifically why without revealing spoilers. I can say, however, that in both films, circumstance places the burden of "fixing" the marriage on the wife, even though it means defying cultural mores. 

Like Bess, Adenike lives within a small, restricted community with ancient traditions and clearly defined gender roles, and also like Bess, Adenike shows signs of chafing against them. In one scene, we see her on the telephone arguing with her mother-in-law and at one point she pleads something along the lines of, "Why is it always the woman?" The implication is that if she and her husband can't make a child, there must be something wrong with her.

'Mother' DP Bradford Young (l),
costume designer Mobolaji Dawodu (r)

Women get unfairly burdened with a lot of things in this world, and Mother makes that point artfully and with great sensitivity. The Walking Dead actress Danai Gurira, who was also in City, plays Adenike, and she is a revelation. 

Adenike gives of herself completely to Ayodele (played by Jim Jarmusch regular Isaach de Bankole), uncomplainingly and unconditionally, yet even when things go sour in their marriage, it's clear that she still loves him, and that she does the things she does out of love. This is her culture; she was born to it and she knew what marriage within it would mean, so when it turns on her, it feels like a betrayal, and Gurira makes you feel the heartbreak.

'Mother' screenwriter Darci Picoult

Once again, the visual style that Dosunmu is becoming known for is on display here. Director of photography Bradford Young (REMEMBER THIS NAME!), who worked on City as well as Middle of Nowhere, shoots black people better than anyone working now. Gurira and de Bankole are both pretty dark, yet they and everyone else in this film look so luminous. The play of light and shadow on their skin make them look like they stepped off a magazine cover, and the colors are used judiciously, bright but never overwhelming. Dosunmu might be a little too fond of in-and-out focusing sometimes, but it's okay.

First-time screenwriter Darci Picoult's script knows just how much to reveal and how much to leave to the imagination, and as a result, it keeps you engaged in the story. You have to pay attention if you wanna know what's going on. At the same time, it doesn't get in the way of the startling visuals, since Dosunmu is very much a visual director.

Mother has it all, folks. Easily one of the best movies I'm likely to see all year, and if it can catch fire the way Nowhere did last year, you're gonna hear a whole lot more about it. It's due to come out in September.

Stories We Tell

Stories We Tell
seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn, NY
5.30.13

Reality television and daytime talk shows have made paternity cases into something tawdry and sensationalist. For me, at least, it's especially embarrassing when it involves black people. In recent months in my neighborhood, ads have gone up for a service that provides DNA testing. There's an image of a baby with the legend, "Who's your daddy?" Yes, it is extremely ghetto.

I've probably said it here before, but in case I haven't: too many people who don't know how to be parents are having babies, and a lot of them are just plain stupid - and yet, choosing to not have children is frowned upon. Huh?

Granted, however, it's difficult not to judge. I have a friend (no dummy by any stretch) who had three children with a woman who was absolutely wrong for him. They were wrong for each other, really; my friend was suffering from bipolar disorder at the time. When he first told me about this, I specifically remember fighting the urge to say something like, "What the hell were you doing having kids?" And yet, not only did he get his act together, he managed to raise his kids right. Having met two of them, I can attest to the fact that they're healthy, happy and sane, not to mention very talented artistically. Someone like my friend, however, is a rarity.

This brings us to Sarah Polley and Stories We Tell. First of all, I have to give some massive props to Polley as an actor-turned-director. Maybe it's because she's an indie girl and a foreigner to boot that she doesn't get as much attention as she should, but she's quietly built up an impressive string of quality films, from Away From Her to Take This Waltz (another film about marital infidelity) and now this. 

Stories is about Polley's theater-actor parents and the mystery of whether or not Sarah is their biological child. The emphasis is largely on her late mother Diane who, along with younger versions of the family, are depicted in flashback scenes by actors. Meanwhile, the real-life, present-day versions, through interviews by Sarah, recreate the events that led to her discovery of the truth. In a somewhat meta twist, Sarah's father Michael not only narrates the story, but we actually see them in a recording studio as he narrates and she listens. (We even see Michael re-read a few lines of the narrative at Sarah's request.)

One of the main issues of the film concerns who has the right to tell these stories and how. Diane Polley is dead and, it is argued in the film, only she knows the full story behind Sarah's true parentage. This may be true, but as the film makes clear, this family drama has impacted not only Sarah's life, but others within the family, and even if they may not have had all the facts or were not directly involved, to exclude, or at the very least, minimize them, would be wrong. 

At the same time, however, I don't necessarily think that Polley's version of the story needs to be the definitive one or should even be seen as such. I think it was her father who says something along the lines of how this story will be shaped by the decisions she makes in the editing room on what to keep and what to leave out, and how to present it - and this is true. Another version of the story could shed new light on the story, or provide new information - and isn't this the crux every storyteller faces, regardless of the medium? Gone With the Wind from the slaves' point of view would be a very different tale, for example. In the right hands, that could be a story worth telling.

Diane and Michael's was a love that waned, and that's always sad. The impression the movie gives is that she believed he couldn't love her the way she wanted, which led her to go astray, but at least one of Sarah's siblings is able to find forgiveness for Diane. Again, it's hard for me to be able to judge, which is why I probably shouldn't. The picture painted of Diane is of a life-of-the-party type who was deeply invested in her stage career, moreso than Michael. According to the movie, she married him thinking he was a different kind of person than he actually was, and this on the heels of a prior failed marriage. Could they have made it work out? Was it worth trying? I dunno... and this goes back to the notion that only she can tell the whole truth behind the story of Sarah's parentage.

There's a lot to think about in Stories. It's much more than the sharing of a family secret.

The Artist

The Artist
seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn NY
12.10.11

I've written a fair share this year about performance-capture filmmaking and advances in 3D technology. An increasing number of prominent directors are experimenting with these new techniques, many of them to great success, which has led to speculation that this is where the future of movies lies. I think it's absolutely possible, particularly when this mini-revolution is being led by so many creative giants who have welcomed these innovations late in their careers.

The numbers don't lie: six of the top ten grossing films from last year were released in 3D, and while those are all cartoons and genre movies, 3D is being used for other types of films as well. And while p-cap has been slower to catch on, advances in the field have made the possibility of a p-cap performance getting nominated for an Oscar a plausible one, however slim.


One can imagine that to those within Hollywood, this explosion of technological breakthroughs in filmmaking might feel akin to the period when sound first came to motion pictures. Is it possible that some may find it threatening? Sure, but then neither 3D nor p-cap have yet to change film as fundamentally as sound did. Anyone who has seen a silent movie can tell you how different the experience is: in a way, silent films engage one's imagination more profoundly. It certainly forces you to pay attention more.

As charming and entertaining as The Artist was, I have to admit something about the attitude of George, the main character, struck me as a little off. I can understand someone in his position - a silent movie superstar - scoffing at the coming of talkies, but he doesn't even try to make one, not even when talkies prove to be immensely popular. If he was worried about how his voice would sound - a very legitimate fear, one many stars struggled with during the transition period - he never indicates it. Yeah, foolish pride and all that, but for someone who loves the spotlight as much as George does, you'd think he'd try to work harder at keeping it.

There has been sooooooooo much hype around this movie for so many months, I admit, I came into it thinking it would leave a greater impression on me than it actually did. This doesn't happen to me all that often, but when it does, it's kind of a drag because I always end up feeling suckered in some way. And again, I enjoyed The Artist and I would absolutely recommend it, but when you keep reading about how it won all these film festival awards and how audiences all over the world are eating it up and how it's sure to not only get nominated for Best Picture, but win... you see the problem.

Watching this, I found the experience slightly different than watching a silent film from back in the day. For one thing, I kinda wished there were a live organist playing the score (although the film's score was very good). Also, I found I could "hear" the voices of familiar modern actors like John Goodman and James Cromwell in my head, even though I actually couldn't. Reading the lips of the actors was a little easier, partly because the picture is so clear and clean and there are more close-ups, I think, than in your average old-school silent film. Also, any sound the audience made was magnified in a way that it probably wouldn't be if there were, in fact, live music, because live music, especially an organ like the one at the Loews Jersey City, has a way of filling up a room. Even when I saw Metropolis outdoors with the Alloy Orchestra performing, they were loud enough to drown out any audience sounds.

Belle de Jour

Belle de Jour
last seen @ Brooklyn Academy of Music, Brooklyn NY
3.13.11

Surprisingly, it didn't happen all that often during my ten years in video retail. I was fortunate to have worked in places where the clientele even had an interest in foreign movies, much less chose to rent them. But every once in awhile, someone would come along who wanted to watch foreign movies dubbed instead of subtitled.

In fairness, I can understand why the average person - i.e., someone who's not necessarily a cinephile - would prefer it. It can be a bit tricky to read the English translations while trying to pay attention to the action on the screen. You're effectively dividing your concentration, and if you miss a line or two, you could lose the gist of a scene. I can see how this could be a barrier for many people who simply want to be able to watch a movie unencumbered.

Even film aficionados may have problems with subtitles. In the past, the text was sometimes too bright to be read well, especially on black and white films. And for the purists, fidelity to the original dialogue can be an issue when it comes to translating a foreign language into English. So why use subtitles at all?

For one thing, dubbing has a dubious reputation, thanks to hundreds of kung fu films. Even when done well, dubbing in English dialogue over the original language looks unnatural and can take you out of the movie. If there's a famous actor, you become especially aware that the voice you're hearing isn't his or hers. And from a purist's perspective, hearing the original language means you're watching the film closer to the way it's meant to be experienced, even with subtitles. Recent Oscar nominations for foreign-language performances by Javier Bardem, Marion Cotillard, and Penelope Cruz, among others, have proven that a foreign language need not be a barrier to appreciating acting skill.

Watching a foreign movie with a linguist makes one more aware of issues like these. Two weeks ago, Andrea and I went to see the French film Belle de Jour, which was part of a Catherine Denueve retrospective at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Andrea, as I've mentioned before, is polylingual, but her specialty is French. When we saw The Illusionist, that movie had no subtitles, but it had almost no dialogue either, so this was the first time she and I saw a subtitled film together.

She surprised me afterwards when she said that she relied on the subtitles to a greater degree than I thought. As a non-native, she learned her French primarily through the written word, and she has told me examples of how in the past, when she spent time in Paris, she misconstrued certain casual words and phrases because they didn't match up with her textbook knowledge of the language, even though she speaks it better than any non-native I've ever met. So she likes learning the informal aspects of the language through subtitles.

She also noticed aspects of the English translation that were slightly different from the spoken dialogue. In one scene, an older man, according to the subtitles, says "daughter," but Andrea said what he spoke was a word closer to "beloved" (if I'm remembering this correctly). We agreed that often times, subtitles needs to be concise, even if it means altering the context slightly, and in this case, "daughter" was the less distracting word.

I haven't been to BAM very often, unfortunately. It's a performance space located near downtown Brooklyn that not only shows movies, but gives concerts, dance shows and plays. It's an excellent place to visit if you're ever in Brooklyn. The auditorium where we saw Belle de Jour was a nice-sized space, though it had no central aisle and the seats were a bit small. At one point during the movie, this one dude sitting next to Andrea complained to her that she was rustling her popcorn bag too loudly. She apologized, both at that moment and after the movie ended, but he rudely brushed her off, like he didn't care. It was the only sour note of the day, and though neither of us liked it, we forgot about it in time and went off to have Thai food.

So where do y'all stand on subtitles versus dubbing?