2011 MSPIFF Journal #1/3

170 200+ Films in 3 Weeks - How many could you possible see?

Naturally, each of the first three films I saw at MSPIFF were documentaries, not only because I have an affinity for them but also because there are literally dozens of documentaries in this year's fest, which is breaking its own record for number of films and number of days. Why the annual obsession with making MSPIFF bigger and longer than ever before, I don't know - by my elementary arithmetic, if you attended for 22 days straight and saw 4 films each day, you would still see fewer than half the number of films in the catalog.

Nevertheless, there's something to be said for offering something for every movie fan, even if that means every movie fan. And considering the number of films on tap, the revived Film Society of Minneapolis-St. Paul has done a stellar job with the organization of the festival. Lines have been smooth and start times punctual, and in this third year at the St. Anthony venue, my opinion has been cemented that it's the perfect location for the festival: easy freeway access, free parking, and sufficient nearby cafes/restaurants (plus free Punch pizza with every ticket stub again?!). Not much more you can ask for - even some of the surly theater staff from last year appear to have left.

Here's a rundown on the three I saw last week:

Page One: A Year Inside the New York Times 
Grade: B+
Opens at the Uptown in July

A meaty if not meandering documentary, Page One takes us behind the scenes of the Media Desk at the New York Times, which is tasked with covering the very state of print journalism itself. It's an interesting angle for director Andrew Rossi to take on this story, and it goes some way in refuting the "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic" analogy about the state of legacy media in the 21st century. You leave the film convinced the that The Times, and presumably other news institutions, are finally begin to adapt not just in the way subscribers access content (i.e., the new pay wall they recently installed on their website), but in the way we think about the journalists providing that content. Rossi profiles people like Minneapolis native David Carr (whose improbable journey to The Times newsroom didn't get enough attention in either the film or the Q & A with Carr and Rossi after the opening night screening) and Brian Stelter, a blogger-turned-journalist who is the face of an impressive new generation of reporters at The Times. All that said, Page One never really develops a cohesive narrative, and the viewing experience is like reading the NYT Twitter feed, with scattered pieces of stories out of order and often out of context. Nonetheless, for subscribers like me (Sunday edition only), it's a fascinating look inside the news machine.

Nostalgia for the Light
Grade: A

Thought-provoking, awe-inspiring, and tragic, Patricio Guzmán's Nostalgia for the Light is a superb feat of filmmaking, weaving together history, astronomy, and philosophy in a meditation on selective memory and the skeletons in Chile's closet. Centered in the Atacama Desert (site of the miraculous mine rescue of 2010), the film contrasts the desert's world-class astronomy facilities with the horrifying secrets that are buried in the ground around them, mostly in the form of skeletal remains of victims of the Pinochet dictatorship. While professors and scientists turn their eyes heavenward, a small group of women pick through the dust and dirt in a search for their relatives that has lasted 30 years. Both parties are in search of the past, and both have seemingly infinite horizons through which to carefully comb. The only difference is, the astronomers are working with the full support of the Chilean government, with every resource at their disposal. The women? They're mostly left alone in the hope that they will eventually die off, and take their talk of torture and injustice along with them. The film is not an indictment of Chile in this sense (Guzman waxes poetically about his country and shows it in an astonishingly beautiful light), but simply a troubling comparison between mankind's search for meaning in the stars, and mankind's search for redemption and forgiveness here on earth.

Kinshasa Symphony 
Grade: B+

The main challenge with Claus Wischmann and Martin Baer's Kinshasa Symphony is avoiding the temptation to simply write it off as a clichéd tearjerker. The title alone basically tells you what you're in for - an inspiring story about people making beautiful music against the odds in one of the world's most impoverished countries. What else would you expect? Indeed, it's exactly that and not much more, but in turning the lens on several compelling members of the orchestra and underscoring the challenges they face on a daily basis (to the tune of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony), the film ultimitaely does transcend expectations. What's missing, at least for prodding viewers like me, is some context about what exactly is going on in the background in Kinshasa, a city of 10 million people in arguably Africa's most tumultuous country, the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Granted, I came in about five minutes late, but I didn't get the full picture of the city, country, and culture that I was hoping for. But maybe that's a minor complaint, as the film is not meant to be a political or social commentary but simply a tribute to these unbelievably determined musicians. And in that respect, Kinshasa Symphony is music to the ears, eyes, and soul.

Sound Unseen 11: Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone

Screening as part of Sound Unseen 11 - Sat., Oct. 9, @ 5:00 PM @ the Trylon

Trivia question: What music was John Cusack blasting from his boombox in that iconic scene in Say Anything? If you think it's "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel, you're right - kind of. That song was reportedly added in post-production, while the music that was actually playing during filming was by a band named Fishbone, "one of the most distinctive and eclectic alternative rock bands of the late '80s", according to their allmusic profile.

This anecdote perfectly exemplifies the life of the band: loved by all the cool kids, but inevitably overshadowed by the radio-friendly pop music of the day. I myself knew little about the band, and even less about the world that shaped them, before seeing Everyday Sunshine: The Story of Fishbone. It's a great documentary not only because it chronicles Fishbone's career in an interesting way, but because it also appropriately addresses social issues like race and power, and reveals historical nuggets such as the African-American migration to Los Angeles and the birth of the punk scene in the San Fernando Valley.

Sound Unseen 11: Do It Again

Screening as part of Sound Unseen 11 - Sat., Oct. 9, @ 3:00 PM @ the Trylon

Often you hear about middle-aged guys and their garage bands trying to make it big after years of trying, or middle-aged former rock stars trying to keep it big after years of succeeding. Or, as seen in last year's excellent Anvil! The Story of Anvil, middle-aged rock stars trying to make it big after years of hopeless failure.

Here's a new one, then: a middle-aged fan trying to bring back some old rock stars fifteen years after they broke up. The band is none other than The Kinks, while the fan is Geoff Edgers, an arts and entetainment writer for the Boston Globe who considers the band to be the greatest of all time (incidentally, he does a fantastic job outlining their history and their impact on the music world). Although the storyline and characters of Do It Again (cleverly named after one of the band's many hits) are a little different than the other examples, the journey is comprised of the same hope, determination, dejection, relief, joy, confusion, and musical passion. In short, Do It Again shows that while the life of a rock star may be taxing, it ain't much easier to be a fan of a band that no longer exists.

Sound Unseen 11: Wheedle's Groove

Screening as part of Sound Unseen 11 - Thu., Oct. 8, @ 8:45 PM @ the Trylon

When people talk about "discovering" music, I think they typically mean hearing a song they like in a commercial or at a bar and tracking it down, or reading about an up-and-coming artist and checking out their MySpace page for a free listen. Rarely is the case, I would imagine, when one actually physically discovers the music - as in, buried in a record store after years of neglect. Wheedle's Groove, winner of the Jury Award at Sound Unseen Duluth last summer, is the story of what happens when that music is found, and what it can mean to the people who lost it.

If I were to ask you to list the most influential cities for the emergence of soul and funk music during the 1960's and 70's, I would bet with some confidence that a few places would go unmentioned: Salt Lake City, Minneapolis, Portland, Seattle. But ah, how wrong you would be to omit the Emerald City: Seattle was, shockingly, home to some of the funkiest bands of the era, and involved musical giants like Quincy Jones and Kenny G (yes, that Kenny G). Few people remember this, of course, which makes Wheedle's Groove both extremely depressing and extremely important to the historical records of the city and the genre.

Fall Film Festobonanza, Part 3: Sound Unseen 11

The films of Sound Unseen 11

What: 11th Sound Unseen "Films on Music" Festival

Where: Southern Theater, Trylon microcinema, Red Stag Supper Club, Minneapolis

When: October 6 - 10

Last year's Sound Unseen festival featured some really outstanding films, including P-Star Rising, We Live in Public, and one of my favorites of the entire year, Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench (which I believe is scheduled for a limited late fall theatrical release). Sound Unseen programs numerous films on music throughout the year, but their annual festival always features high-profile films that otherwise would not get screened in the Twin Cities. It's a cozy little festival, too, with screenings at the Trylon (50 seats) and, this year, the Southern Theater on the West Bank. Here's the official release:

The 25 Best Soundtracks of the Decade (2000-2009)

[Note: This was a rather ambitious post with a lot of embedded content. Please excuse awkward spacing and timing lags.] 

Considering it's March of 2010, I guess I should clarify that I've made a list of the best soundtracks from last decade, 2000-2009. I started a draft of this at least six months ago but of course it fell into the netherworld of unfinished posts. As late as it is, here are 25 soundtracks from the last decade that I remember fondly, and I use the word "soundtrack" loosely since some of these movies had great songs that weren't actually on the soundtrack album. Also, note that these are soundtracks, not original scores.

First, here are some that I am setting aside because they fall into the following advantageous categories. Consider them in a class by themselves:

Musicals - Across the Universe, Dreamgirls, Moulin Rouge!, Chicago, Rent, Mamma Mia!

Biopics - Walk the Line, I'm Not There, Notorious, Ray

Documentaries - Dave Chappelle's Block Party, Tupac:Resurrection, Amandla! A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony, Young @ Heart

Now, on to the list of 25, in alphabetical order with the exception of this first selection:

1. City of God (2002) - Was there any doubt my favorite soundtrack of the decade wouldn't come from my favorite movie of the decade? I've listened to this hundreds of times over the years and it never gets old. Antonio Pinto and Ed Córtes struck a perfect balance of soul, romance, funkiness, danger, and fun in their original score for City of God, but the supplemental songs really rounded out the album, such as "Convite para Vida" by Seu Jorge, "Na rua, na chuva, na fazenda" by Hyldon, and "Nem Vem Que Não Tem" by Wilson Simonal. Take a few minutes and enjoy a free trip to Brazil:

Gump & Shawshank: The Scores That Didn't Score

Two movies I could watch over and over and over again are Forrest Gump and The Shawshank Redemption. Since their shared year of release, 1994, the legacies of both films have been cemented in somewhat surprising ways. Gump is considered one of the most undeserving Oscar winners of all time, Tom Hanks' performance as the title character is still lampooned in pop culture, and it's unlikely anyone under the age of 20 understands the significance of the movie. The irony is that a film about the timelessness of U.S. history has itself dated tremendously since 1994.

Shawshank, meanwhile, helped usher in - along with Pulp Fiction - a new era of independent filmmaking in Hollywood. It was nominated for seven Oscars, including Best Picture, but walked away empty-handed. In the years since it has gained an intense following among primarily 25-40 year-old males, many of whom have helped it maintain its vice grip on the #1 spot in the IMDb Top 250 list for the past decade (eat it, Dark Knight and LOTR fanboys!).

Anyway, my point with this post is not to compare and contrast these two films that I love, but to consider a relatively stunning fact that is rarely discussed: the original scores from Forrest Gump and The Shawshank Redemption are easily two of the best from 1990's, yet neither won the Academy Award in the category. The prize went to The Lion King, of all things, which blows my mind considering I can barely remember any of Hans Zimmer's music from that film. What I do remember are Elton John and Tim Rice's original songs, three of which received Oscar nominations and one of which ("Can You Feel the Love Tonight") took the prize. (That The Lion King, Pulp Fiction, Shawshank and Gump were all released in 1994 also offers that year as the arguably the best of the decade, but that's a discussion for another time.)

Getafilm Gallimaufry: Best Picture Nonsense, Clouzot, Crazy Heart, Muriel, & More

[Note: This series includes scattered thoughts on various movie-related topics. I was looking for a word that started with the letter "g" that means collection or assortment, but lest you think I'm some elitist wordsmith, know that I'd never heard of "gallimaufry" and I don't even know how to say it, but it was the only other option the thesaurus provided aside from "goulash" (too foody) and "garbage" (no).]

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The Best Picture Nominees

I scoffed at the decision to expand the Best Picture field six months ago, and I'm scoffing at it again now. To summarize: because The Dark Knight was not nominated for Best Picture last year and the Oscar telecast was again watched by a fraction of the population, the decision was made by AMPAS and the show's producers to nominate ten films instead of five, making the ceremony more appealing to Joe and Jane Public, who see 3-5 movies year, at least one of which is directed by Michael Bay and at least 2-4 of which star Brendan Fraser, Eddie Murphy, Jennifer Lopez, or Sandra Bullock.

And so in a year where so much went wrong at the movie theater (in my opinion, of course, and for the first time I didn't even bother with predicting the nominations), we have five stereotypical Best Picture nominees (Avatar, The Hurt Locker, A Serious Man, Up in the Air, and Inglourious Basterds), three passable Best Picture nominees (Up, An Education, Precious), and two tacked-on popular hits (District 9, The Blind Side; that The Hangover was somehow not nominated for Best Picture surprised me more than anything else in the nomination announcements). I'm not saying the wrong films were nominated - that's a given every year. I'm just saying that the expanded field only made room for more wrongly chosen films.

Of course the irony is that the inclusion of Avatar alone would have been enough to get people to watch the telecast, so the expanded field turned out to be completely unnecessary. Worse, the first-ever Pixar film to be nominated for Best Picture is arguably not even one of the best Pixar films. There was a case to be made for WALL-E last year, but not so with Up this year. Besides, it will win Best Animated Feature without any problem - wouldn't that have been "enough" without what is now a somewhat meaningless Best Picture nomination?

On the Horizon: In the Heights

For no good reason at all, Minnesota has a raging inferiority complex. The state is puffed up with pride about the most bizarre things (electing Jesse Venture and Al Franken to office?), and any national or global story that has a local connection becomes front-page news, just so we feel like we're important, too. I'm not a Minnesota native but even I have found myself spouting off boastful trivia to people when I'm out of state, such as the fact that the Twin Cities has a thriving drama culture and more theater seats per capita than any U.S. city outside of New York City. Why your average person would care about such a thing I have no idea, but that doesn't matter, you'll be told this information just so that you know Minnesota should be known for something.

Despite my sarcastic attitude about this state's insecurity, there are times when the boasts are backed up, and when something like the local theater culture really does create some unforgettable experiences ahead of the rest of the country. A few months ago it was announced that the inaugural national tour of the Tony Award winning-musical "In the Heights" would be making an early stop in Minneapolis, and considering how much I love "Rent", it was a no-brainer that I had to see this. The occasion arrived this weekend, and I am pleased to declare that it was shockingly fantastic. I'm no drama geek but I love a good Broadway musical, so take my opinion for it's worth considering your own interest in such things. In any event I was not prepared for a show - written by someone my age - with this much cultural diversity, humor, musicality, dance, and emotion. In a word (or two), it was life-affirming.

Because I love the film adaptation of "Rent", and because "In the Heights" is so vivid, vivacious, and vibrantly alive (think "Rent"+"Grease"+"West Side Story"+2009), during the show I found myself wondering how Lin-Manuel Miranda's vision would translate to the silver screen. Turns out I wasn't the only one: after opening on Broadway in March of 2008, racking up 13 Tony nominations in May of 2008, and winning 4 Tony Awards (including Best Musical) in June of 2008, "In the Heights" was almost immediately picked up by Universal Pictures for a film adaptation due out in 2010. If it does end up being released on time (I can't tell how far along production is), it will automatically be my most anticipated movie of next year.

Getafilm Gallimaufry: This Is It, Wild Things, Flute-Playing Goat & Tyler Perry

[Note: This series includes scattered thoughts on various movie-related topics. I was looking for a word that started with the letter "g" that means collection or assortment, but lest you think I'm some elitist wordsmith, know that I'd never heard of "gallimaufry" and I don't even know how to say it, but it was the only other option the thesaurus provided aside from "goulash" (too foody) and "garbage" (no).]
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This Is It (A)

There's a reason why more music critics than film critics were called on to review This Is It: a good 90% of the footage in this documentary is singing and dancing, not storytelling. You should know that if you're not already a Michael Jackson fan, because if you aren't then I imagine This Is It would be about as enjoyable as a John Tesh concert film (and if you don't like MJ then one can reasonably assume your musical tastes are that...tragic).

REVIEW: P-Star Rising (A-)

If you were at a club at 2:00 AM and a nine year-old little girl got up on the stage and started rapping, your natural instinct would likely cause you to smile and say, "Aw, that's so funny/cute/random/disturbing." You'd have an amusing story to tell your friends the next day. Gabriel Noble probably had the same initial reaction when he saw Priscilla Star Diaz (a.k.a. "P-Star") perform five years ago in lower Manhattan, but something about P-Star captured his curiousity and wouldn't let go. He spent the next day filming Priscilla and her family, and then the next day after that, and then the next four years after that. P-Star Rising, which premiered at Tribeca in April and is currently on the festival circuit, richly documents Priscilla's tumultuous emergence as a child star, and the youngest ever female rapper.

Watching Priscilla, her sister, Solsky, and her father, Jesse, move from a one-room Harlem shelter to a four-bedroom apartment and leased SUV is often uplifting but frequently discomfiting. Jesse was an aspiring rapper in his own right in the late 80's, but poor career management and a two-year prison stint (for selling cocaine) derailed his future, leaving you to question his ability to manage Priscilla's career. His wife fell in too deep with drugs and could not care for their daughters, so it was up to him, a failed rapper and convicted felon, to try and support two young girls on his own. He worked odd jobs when he could find them, but most of his energy was spent trying to revive his rapping career - until he discovered Priscilla's talent. (He also apparently home schools Priscilla, a somewhat disturbing detail that isn't given much attention here.)

300 Words About: Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench

Jazz just sounds cooler when it's backing a black and white scene, doesn't it? Gives it an organic, refreshing sound, almost a palpable texture. Jazz under neon blue lights and nightclub smoke makes for a great atmosphere, too, but that's sultry and mysterious and can be too confined by its own setting.

The reason I point this out is because Damien Chazelle's Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench (which made waves at Tribeca in April but is still seeking financing for a theatrical release) gives jazz a shot in the arm that not only gets your toe tapping, but your spirit soaring. You're not seduced by the riffs so much as you're invigorated by them.

It's a verite-style romantic musical dramedy that defies categorization precisely because it fits so many descriptions: indie, docudrama, mumblecore, to name a few. At different times it reminded of new cinema (In Search of a Midnight Kiss and Medicine for Melancholy) and classic cinema (the dancing scene from Jean-Luc Godard's Band of Outsiders), and it won't work for everyone if only because it's so peculiarly surreal. But I think that's why I loved it, aside from the fact that it was shot on the Boston and Cambridge streets that hold a special nostalgia for me.

Sound Unseen 2009: The 10th Anniversary Edition

Travelers on the journey that is the packed Fall 2009 Twin Cities film bonanza will arrive next week at a major landmark: the 10th Annual Sound Unseen Festival, one of the foremost "films-on-music" festival in the country. From Sept. 29 - Oct. 4, nearly two dozen documentaries and feature films will play at the Trylon microcinema and Oak Street Cinema (the latter once again showing its impressive resiliency this fall), and a few more will play at the Walker Art Center and Cedar Cultural Center.

In and around these screenings will be performances by local musical acts representing nearly every genre. Festival co-director Rick Hansen recently told me that he had hoped to get a handful of Sound Unseen alumni (including Atmosphere and Solid Gold) to come and perform for this 10th anniversary, but they're just plain too big now for these small venues. In other words, check out these bands now before you have to pay to see them at a sold-out First Ave. show in a couple years.

The one bit of a bad luck Sound Unseen might face this year is that it falls on the same weekend that A Serious Man opens locally. But on the other hand, that's only playing at the Uptown, so all of the hundreds of people out of luck at the sellouts will have to go elsewhere and see a different movie. 

Either way I'm including the full film schedule here, but I'd like to pick out a few of them to highlight. It's worth mentioning here at some point that last year's Sound Unseen hosted the local premieres of both War Child and Anvil! The Story of Anvil. 

I haven't seen any of the following but I have a couple on hand that I'm planning to watch; check back next week for reviews:

300 Words About: Afghan Star

[Afghan Star was scheduled to open this Friday, September 11, at the Landmark Lagoon Cinema. It has just been dropped from the booking schedule and I have no idea if/when it will actually arrive.]

I don't know why I've never warmed to "American Idol" at any time during the last decade (can you believe it's been nine years?), but I think part of the reason is because it's always seemed to be less like a singing competition and more like a pop-friendly talent show. This is exactly what it is supposed to be, of course, but my point is that it's not really about well these people can sing. It's about how good they look as pop stars.

You need look no further than Susan Boyle, who became an overnight celebrity, literally a household name, not because she could sing well (she couldn't), but because she didn't look like she could sing well. Maybe it says something about Western influence in Afghanistan that "Afghan Star", the equivalent of "Idol", appears to be just as image-obsessed as its American predecessor. But that's where the similarities end.

If you lose in the final rounds of "American Idol" you can still count on a good five year career as a singer. If you lose in "Afghan Star" it can mean a return to the daily struggle in a war-torn country, which is not so bad when compared with the death threats contestants (particularly female contestants) encounter if they simply present the wrong image of themselves on the show. These people are playing for keeps, which makes Afghan Star, the documentary about four finalists in the third season of the show, a compelling cultural study. And also 88 minutes of sweet relief from Ryan Seacrest.

I won't spoil the movie by revealing who wins the competition, but if you really want to remain in suspense, stop reading now. I'll only say that I expected some dramatic twists - maybe even extremely dramatic twists - that never materialized. It's certainly for the best as far as the subjects are concerned, but based on the synopsis and poster (of course I didn't watch the trailer until after the movie), I thought I was in for something much more disturbing.

Not that I would have liked to see that, but as it happens the only real weakness of Afghan Star is that these disturbing issues aren't fully explored. We learn that dancing on stage is bad, women have completely lost their identities under Taliban rule, and contestants represent each of Afghanistan's ethnic groups. I guess I just wanted a little more depth, a few more voices.

Nevertheless, I think I'd much rather watch Afghan Star (or "Afghan Star", the actual show) than "American Idol" because the stakes are real. Even the host of the season of "Afghan Star" that's profiled in the movie is desperate to cash in on the show's success: having arrived in the U.S. for the first time earlier this year to promote the film at the Sundance Film Festival, he skipped out on his flight back home.

CDtZ: School of Rock (2003)

[Note: This is a submission for Counting Down the Zeroes, a brilliant, year-long project headed up by Film for the Soul's ambitious chief, Ibetolis. By the end of this year it will exist as a comprehensive collection of the best movies of the decade (2000's). My first submission was Boiler Room (2000), and I look forward to taking on more in the upcoming months. Check it out!]

Jack Black just has one of those faces, doesn't he? The kind that you see once and never forget, that can exhibit every range of human emotion, and that can believably slip into any supporting role in any genre of movie - Demolition Man, Waterworld, The Neverending Story III, Dead Man Walking, The Cable Guy, Enemy of the State, High Fidelity, Saving Silverman, Orange County. This fact shouldn't be a surprise, but yet it is: Jack Black had a solid 50 acting roles under his belt before his career-making turn as Dewey Finn in School of Rock.

Prior to Richard Linklater's sleeper smash hit, Black's biggest starring turn had been opposite Gwyneth Paltrow in the underrated Farrelly Brothers rom-com Shallow Hal, where he demonstrated for the first time that he could play the straight guy for a whole movie, without even one air-guitar foray or memorably wacky scene. Ironically, it was probably during this time in Black's life (the early 2000's) that he lived in the same apartment building as Mike White, who wrote Orange County and was inspired to write School of Rock after frequently witnessing Black blast classic rock music and run through the halls naked.

High Fidelity director Stephen Frears was originally tapped to direct, but the job ultimately went to Linklater, who had the slacker movie cred (Slacker, Dazed and Confused) but had never made a film as "kid-friendly" as School of Rock (he would go on to make a poorly received Bad News Bears remake two years later). The film opened in the U.S. on October 3, 2003, less than a month after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.

I remember seeing it with a friend on opening weekend at Universal City in L.A., then a few weeks later again with friends in San Diego, and then a few weeks later again with my brother and sister in Minnesota (ah, the Roseville 4). A crowd-pleaser that never tired, School of Rock was the first movie I saw three times in the theater since Jurassic Park a decade earlier. Maybe in part thanks to my efforts, School of Rock remained in theaters for almost 6 months, grossing more than $80 million on an estimated budget of only $35 million. In the Chicago Tribune, Mark Caro perfectly summed it up: "The movie is the cinematic equivalent of a near-perfect three-minute pop song. It makes you laugh, smile and tap your toes over a brisk 88 minutes, and when it's finished, you're ready to hit repeat."

What makes this movie so enjoyable through repeated viewings? It's hard to narrow it down to just one or two aspects, but each time I see it the answer becomes more clear: Jack Black's performance and Mike White's screenplay. Without either of these two elements, the movie would suffer considerably, despite the sure-handed direction of Linklater and some great performances from the kids, Joan Cusack, and even Mike White himself as Jack Black's roommate.

When we see Black (or more likely a stunt man) take a stage dive onto an empty floor during the opening credits, we get a pretty good idea of the kind of energetic comedy in store for us. As Dewey Finn, Black fully commits to the role of a sensitive slacker with a passion for music so pure that it overshadows otherwise sacred values (until he discovers the students' musical talent, he's happy enough to completely waste their educational time). In his 3 1/2-star review, Roger Ebert observed, "Jack Black remains true to his irascible character all the way through; he makes Dewey's personality not a plot gimmick, but a way of life."

Of course, it would be hard for anyone not to have fun playing Dewey Finn, a wannabe rock star who doesn't play by any of the conventional rules of life. But Black doesn't overdo it; we actually believe that, despite his own selfish interests in winning the "Battle of the Bands", Dewey really does care about the students' wellbeing. In fact, as he grows closer to them it becomes clear that Linklater is making something resembling a Disney movie, complete with positive lessons, family values, and a heroic, sappy ending. Ebert, again: "Here is a movie that proves you can make a family film that's alive and well-acted and smart and perceptive and funny -- and that rocks."

In other words, as vital as Black's balanced energy is to the success of School of Rock, the material he is working from cannot be overlooked. Mike White's stories were a bit hit-and-miss to that point (Dead Man on Campus, The Good Girl, Orange County), but as Ebert described it, "White's movies lovingly celebrate the comic peculiarities of everyday people", and School of Rock remains both the funniest and most endearing screenplay of his career (the upcoming School of Rock 2 has potential to replace it, but I'm skeptical). Praising the film for Newsweek, David Ansen wondered, "It's a bravura, all-stops-out, inexhaustibly inventive performance. I don't know how much was improvised, and how much comes from White's sharp screenplay, but Black may never again get a part that displays his mad-dog comic ferocity to such brilliant effect."

Unfortunately, Ansen has so far been right on the mark. Black has been given steady work in the past six years, but while much of it has been significant (opposite Kate Winslet in The Holiday, under the direction of Michel Gondry in Be Kind Rewind, and in the star-studded cast of Tropic Thunder), the role that's perhaps best fit his talents was as the voice of Po in last year's animated hit Kung Fu Panda. I'm not proposing an actual theory here, but it might be worth noting that both Kung Fu Panda and School of Rock are essentially kid's movies - maybe Black is best suited for roles that are more obviously juvenile? Food for thought to go along with a last bit of trivia: School of Rock (which was originally The School of Rock) was shockingly given a PG-13 rating due to "rude humor and some drug references", whatever that means. Lamenting the situation, Ebert offered a parting shot: "There's not a kid alive who would be anything but delighted by this film."

And finally, while I don't mean to diminish the work of Linklater at the helm here, for the most part it appears he took a hands-off approach and simply let Black run wild with his young co-stars. It worked beautifully and in the hands of another director this movie could have been bogged down with all kinds of unnecessary "stuff". There is one scene that displays Linklater's casually perfect directing chops, however, and it's the thrilling, emotionally moving finale (or, as Lou Lumenick admitted in the New York Post, "an inspirational climax that's as rousing as it is predictable."). Enjoy:

Underrated MOTM (Special Edition): The Truman Show (1998)

(Despite being a huge fan of his music and dancing, I didn't plan on posting anything about Michael Jackson here for the very reasons that I'll mention, namely my unease about celebrity (and especially non-celebrity) idolization. All I had in mind was a Perfect Song, Perfect Scene clip as a tribute, but on second and third thoughts I ended up with this additional post. Plus my girlfriend wanted me to write something about MJ, and I was ultimately happy to oblige.)

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With three Oscar nominations and solid 95 RT and 90 MC ratings, one of the things June's Underrated Movie of the Month (MOTM) is not is underrated; many people consider it one of the greatest movies of the 90's. But let's just nevermind that this month, especially since "underrated" is always defined by me anyway. The truth of the matter is that I've been voluntarily and involuntarily caught up in the Michael Jackson madness since last week, and now, just as the media coverage graduates from somber commiseration to sickening commercialization, my thoughts have led me to choose here between The Jacksons: An American Dream and The Truman Show. I ended up choosing the latter, but first I have to reflect on the former.

If you were to ask me I wouldn't have had any idea what year it was when I watched The Jacksons: An American Dream. I remember it as an engrossing mini-series about a pop star that I saw all over the TV and radio, and whose songs ("Heal the World") we sang at school. I would have been about 11 years old when it aired in 1992, old enough to become a fan of the then-current "Dangerous" album, but too young to understand the background of the Jackson family and the influence of their music. Disturbingly, what I remembered the most from The Jacksons: An American Dream is this scene, in which Joe Jackson instructs Marlon to "Go! Outside! Get a switch!". Whether that incident of abuse was dramatized doesn't matter at this point; both Joe and Michael admitted that abuse occurred during the famous children's formative years.

My reaction to that scene may not have immediately changed my impression of Michael Jackson, but as the years went by I gradually realized that this man's life was a complete construction, and the public's confusion about him was probably not nearly as bewildering as the isolated confusion he must have been experiencing in his own head. At least to me, then, his physical changes and bizarre behavior made perfect sense.

He didn't understand and perhaps wanted to escape his own identity, so he changed his appearance. He never - literally, never - had a childhood, so he tried to relive those fantasies as an adult (not that he might have understood what that meant), even if not always in the most appropriate ways (not that he understood what that meant either). "The public at large has yet to really understand the pressures of childhood celebrity, which, while exciting, always exacts a very heavy price," he said in 2000. "More than anything, I wished to be a normal little boy. I wanted to build tree houses and go to roller-skating parties. But very early on, this became impossible."

At the end of the day, I think Michael Jackson never had any idea of who he really was. Sure, he understood his status as a pop culture icon, but he never really knew who he was as a human, what his identity was comprised of and how it related to the identities of others. Even other childhood celebrities get the relief of a drug-addled teenage meltdown or a quickly faded career. Not so Jackson - his relief away from the spotlight only came when he was in his 40's, far too late for him to discover himself.

I don't think he was Norma Desmond-crazy and I don't think he was a perverted child molester. I think, aside from being unquestionably and unconditionally the greatest all-around entertainer and pop icon in my lifetime (and undoubtedly the very last of his kind), Jackson was relegated to being a moonwalking, talking, pop culture commodity. We made him, bought him, sold him, abused him (know the background on "Billie Jean"?), scolded him, celebrated him, provoked him, and in many cases, literally bowed down and worshiped him:

Watching that clip, is it any surprise that his self-awareness, and thus individual identity, was on a completely different level than the rest of us? How would you feel if complete strangers reacted to you like that? Like Truman Burbank, the main character of The Truman Show, Michael Jackson was not just a marketable product, but a literal source of life for millions of his fans. We were much more dependent on him than he ever was on us; it's as if we drained the humanity from him like leeches. I mean really, watch the last minute of the above video (truth be told, I haven't been able to sit through the whole thing yet - it's just too insane). Sadly, this phenomenon continues with the increasing popularity of conflict-based "reality" television shows - truly The Truman Show brought to life.

Last year I called The Siege "eerily, presciently ahead of its time", and the same came be said for The Truman Show, which was also released in 1998, just two years before "Survivor" would fatefully change television programming forever (or at least what appears to be forever). As Christof (Ed Harris) explains in the freaky opening to The Truman Show, "While the world he inhabits is in some respects counterfeit, there's nothing fake about Truman himself. No scripts, no cue cards. It isn't always Shakespeare, but it's genuine. It's a life."

Maybe the most disturbing aspect of this analogy, then, is that unlike Truman, Michael Jackson was a real person, and a real person that could always see Christof's control booth and the cameras in his face. He knew that his life was a show, and there was nothing he could do about it other than fight back in song, earlier (1987) with the frustrated pleas of "Leave Me Alone", and later (1995) with the angry hysterics of "Scream".

Or, just as likely, maybe he didn't realize that his life was a show. Never having experienced any other life situation (unlike the Beatles, and Elvis, and Madonna, and every other larger-than-life star), he has to be literally the only person outside of a royal family to live his entire life, from age 5 on, as a prominent international celebrity.

You can ignore everything I've already written here and understand my Michael Jackson-as-Truman Burbank analogy really easily by watching the following five-minute interview on the set of the classic "Beat It" music video. In it, a 24 year-old Jackson admits that he never really went to school and, when pressed, answers that he doesn't really have any "close personal friends" outside of Quincy Jones and Diana Ross. Clearly, he has no concept of any normal social relation to people outside of his family.

Not surprisingly, he casually admits, "I get afraid of...well, I don't know people...I get afraid of people sometimes. It's a whole other life that I - I haven't really experienced that. Like friendship is a thing I'm just beginning to learn about. I was raised on the stage, and that's where I'm comfortable. And everything else is like foreign to me. I'm just beginning to know and learn about people, friendship, things like that."

(Addendum: Well, this is really unbelievable. I honestly had no notion of this fact beforehand, but just now, after having finished and revised this entire post, I poked around the internet to see how many other millions of bloggers focused on the Truman-Jackson connection. There were many, if not nearly as many as I thought.

But what really shocked me was the discovery of an unconfirmed quote, supposedly made in 2002 and supposedly made by The Truman Show director Peter Weir: "You watch The Truman Show and, I mean, Jim Carrey did a fantastic job, but Michael Jackson is Truman. He’s who I based him on and he is the nearest thing to Truman. And Michael Jackson, he is also the real life Victor in Simone. He had a talent and all he wanted was to share this and bring people happiness and escapism through entertainment. And people turn it around, they make it about the individual rather than the creation. It is the actual films, the actual music - that’s what it’s all about… People lose sight of this and the media make it all about the celebrity.”)

Taking It Home: Anvil! The Story of Anvil

"We're gonna do it together. We're gonna get there - we're gonna be rock stars! It's a dream...but I'm gonna make it come true!"

Don't let the fact that Sacha Gervasi wrote and produced The Terminal dissuade you from seeing his directorial debut, Anvil! The Story of Anvil, because this terrific documentary is everything The Terminal is not: charming, amusing, inspiring, moving, and above all, important to humanity. Alright, maybe it won't change the course of civilization, but if any film about aging rockers chasing a life-long dream would have the power to do so, this would be it.

In addition to featuring some surprisingly awesome cinematography and just the right amount of archival footage and talking head interviews, Anvil! succeeds for the same reason other excellent character-driven documentaries (recently Surfwise, Trouble the Water, Man on Wire) have succeeded because it truly captures the spirit of its subjects. By focusing less on the who, where and when, and more on the how and why, Gervasi doesn't tell a story about music or fame, but about friendship, trust, and determination. As such, you don't have to be a fan of heavy metal or even familiar with the genre to be touched by this film.

Like most people in their early teens, Steve "Lips" Kudlow and Robb Reiner had big, bold dreams for the future. They were going to be rock stars, as others were going to be astronauts, professional athletes, or presidents. Unlike most of us, however, they actually realized this dream when their metal band Anvil toured worldwide with the great hair bands of the 80's.

And then something happened - Anvil almost completely dropped out of public sight. They continued making music, of course, but nobody paid attention aside from a few devoted fans in their native Canada. It was a bizarre fall from grace, and especially frustrating for band because there was little explanation as to why they went from the brink of international stardom to the brink of nonexistence.

Gervasi, who was a roadie for Anvil in the 80's (and then the original drummer for Bush?!), reunited with the band about five years ago as they were preparing to make another effort to revive their fanbase. What Gervasi captures, then, is a band fighting for its very survival. It's a side hobby now; Kudlow delivers school lunches to pay the bills. Record companies are only interested in a new pop sound of the millennium, not music that sounds two decades old. The band members' families are reluctantly supportive, but even their patience is wearing thin. The band's official website is, no offense, a relative joke, and in recent years really the only place Kudlow and Reiner are "rock stars" is in their memories and their dreams for the future.

But then, isn't that enough?

Based on what we see in Anvil! (as well as in last year's Young @ Heart), the answer is resoundingly "yes" - especially concerning the future. Passion is admirable, and passion is healthy, but passion alone doesn't necessarily amount to anything. It's passion combined with optimism that changes the world, and Steve Kudlow is nothing if not outrageously optimistic. After essentially sacrificing his adult life in the pursuit of his dream, he would see almost nothing go right for the band for 20 years. But he carried the hopes of Robb and the other members on his back, somehow never giving up or hanging his head in defeat.

Impossibly, in the midst of rejection after rejection, disappointment after disappointment, arguments, fights, bad luck and regretful mistakes, Anvil remained righteously resilient. They're not trying to relive their younger years like the washed up guys you see at the local karaoke bar, they're just trying to accomplish what they set out to do four decades ago - period. What reason would there be to stop? What reasons do any of us stop pursuing those dreams? It's almost frightening and more than a bit depressing to consider our own surrenders; the hope and joy exhibited by Steve Kudlow and Robb Reiner proves that our dreams don't have to die, even if they are delayed.

What did you take home?

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Epilogue: Anvil is currently touring in support of this film. They're playing short sets in select cities following screenings of the film, and they were here in Minneapolis when Anvil! opened on May 8 at the Landmark Uptown Theatre. By all accounts it was a great performance, and they had so much fun that they decided to stay and play a second set after the 9:30 PM show. Unbelievably, however, some idiot clown jacked two of Robb Reiner's cymbals in between shows, successfully ruining the second set, successfully ruining Anvil's Minneapolis experience, and successfully adding one more sour note to the band's struggling career revival. How and why somebody would do this after seeing the film is beyond me.

The details of this story have been posted around a number of different blogs, but I'll point you to Matt Gamble's Where the Long Tail Ends for a first-person account, including the open letter sent out by Uptown Theatre manager Patrick Cross. Matt also has a nice video from YouTube taken by "citygirldebbie" of Robb Reiner's drum solo that night, and here's her video of them playing "Metal on Metal":

Looks like it was a great night for those in attendance, despite the unfortunate incident.

Notoriously Wrestling with Che

(otherwise known as my misguided attempt to review three movies at the same time)

"You know very well, who you are;
Don't let 'em hold you down, reach for the stars..."

So goes the well known chorus to "Juicy", the career-making debut single by the late Christopher Wallace, (known to the world as the Notorious B.I.G. or, more endearingly, just "Biggie"). On its own the chorus is a blandly inspiring slogan, but in the context of the song, and more importantly in the context of Biggie's life, it speaks to the stalwart determination of a man to prove his worth even when others weren't questioning it.

If that sounds familiar, it's because we've seen the same story told in three recent movies: Notorious, The Wrestler, and Che, all three of which illustrate the lives of men who just didn't know when to say "when". From my perspective it doesn't really matter that two of them are about real people and one of them is not. As Randy "The Ram" Robinson, Mickey Rourke is essentially playing himself. Conversely, both Christopher Wallace and Che Guevara have been mythologized to the point that they can almost be viewed as fictional characters.

I'm not saying that the three men lived similar lives; on the surface they could hardly be more different. I'm saying that they shared an inner struggle that no one else could understand - one that transcended their wildly different educational, cultural, and familial backgrounds: a primal need for acceptance. Acceptance from world powers (Che), acceptance from peers (Notorious), and acceptance from themselves (The Wrestler). Driven almost mad in seeking this acceptance and never finding themselves satisfied, all three of their lives traversed a path that, in hindsight, was all too predictable.

Tragically and perhaps not surprisingly, each of these men had extremely difficult relationships with their families (shown above). Not only did all three have failed marriages, but they also had children from whom they were estranged, if they knew them at all. I admit knowing little about the inner workings of each of their families, but it's apparent to me that Wallace, Robinson, and Guevara were simply too caught up in their future to realize what they were leaving in the past, family ties included.

You can hardly blame them, in one way, since at the height of each of their popularity they were admired by hundreds, thousands, or millions (depending on the character) of people. Like most iconic figures, their time in the limelight was intense yet fleeting, with much of their influence being realized after their careers peaked.

So how do the movies measure up when it comes to drawing us into the lives of these men? A brief look at each:

- Che: Directed by Steven Soderbergh (Ocean's Thirteen), it's a two-part epic that surprisingly keeps you engaged for a full four and a half hours, mostly due to a magnetic performance by Benicio del Toro. It's the same type of work he continues to do (most recently in Things We Lost in the Fire) with little fanfare and even less recognition from Hollywood award-givers. For what must have been one of the most challenging roles of his career, it's a shame so few people have taken the time to appreciate it.

Whether Che is a humanizing biopic or a historical epic isn't as obvious as it may seem on first viewing, but either way it's an engaging, informative film that, in my opinion, was long overdue. I expect this will be looked back on as a major achievement by Soderbergh, but in the meantime it's only an honorable mention as one of the best films of 2008.

Grade: A-

- Notorious: What's apparent throughout this straightforward retelling of Biggie's meteoric rise is that it's meant to shine a blindingly positive light on the rapper's life and career. If you weren't hip to the production details before seeing it, it will make a lot of sense in the end credits when you see Voletta Wallace (Biggie's mother) and Sean Combs listed as executive producers. I can actually respect Combs for allowing Derek Luke (Miracle at St. Anna) to play him as a young, cocky producer with an immediately recognizable goofy dance, but I'm not sure I'm OK with the movie covering Biggie's entire career and essentially glossing over all the interesting details. It plays like an adaptation of an article from The Source magazine - luxurious living and backstage belligerence, but little analysis of what was actually motivating the artist.

Despite Jamal Woolard's eye-popping turn as the title figure, when it comes down to it Notorious simply falls short of its potential, which of course wasn't the case with the actual man. If nothing else he deserves a treatment that attempts to illustrate his impressive inner drive. For comparison, the Oscar-nominated documentary Tupac: Resurrection wasn't perfect, but at the very least it leaves you much more interested in its subject. Notorious just leaves you singing "Juicy" for a few days - in which case you could just listen to the album instead.

Grade: B-

- The Wrestler: Certainly one of the most surprising movies of 2008 (and one that clocked in at #7 on my year-end list), The Wrestler continues the recent trend of not actually being about what you think it's about - Blindsight, Surfwise, and Trouble the Water serving as other recent examples. Darren Aronofsky seems to get a kick out of giving his films ambiguous titles (The Fighter is due out this year or next), which piques your interest without raising your expectations too high. He really has to be given credit for making films that are different enough to defy easy categorization, yet still exist within some kind of similar genre. You never know what you're going to get, and I find that refreshing.

From this point on, the same should really be said for Mickey Rourke as well. Although he's admitted that he felt he'd turned in a strong performance immediately after wrapping on the set, I'm not sure how obvious it might have been in the moment that he'd dialed in one of the best acting jobs of the decade. People will say it's easy because his career path has been so similar to his character's, but I'm not sure how quickly I buy that sentiment. Try acting as yourself at another age in your life, maybe 10 years ago - or 10 years from now, to make things even more difficult. There's a lot of nuance to that kind of performance, and Rourke must have found it challenging to separate himself completely from the character, allowing "The Ram" to exist as a wholly unique man. His success in doing so accounts for as much of the excellence of the overall film as Aronofsky's direction or Robert Siegel's screenplay.

Grade: A

So I guess I didn't conclusively answer the question I posed prior to those brief synopses, but in short I think i could say this: Che and Notorious do well in telling the story of two men, but don't necessarily offer enough under-the-surface insights as to what was going on in their heads. The Wrestler has the advantage of covering a much shorter period of its character's life, and it doesn't waste a minute in portraying "The Ram" as a completely realistic guy who could be struggling along in any city in America.

For that reason - its ability to provide the most depth and authenticity to its central character - I have to consider The Wrestler as the best of the bunch.