"A David Among Goliaths"

Nothing can quite compare to the pressure a first time director feels when tackling their debut film. It’s an opportunity to put to work all the things they’ve learned from a lifetime of studying their favorite movies and in some cases, years of film school. Usually, the crew is limited and the director finds himself running every aspect of the show. Resources are stretched, money is limited, actors don’t show up or worse, quit half way through the production.

There is also something to be said about the willingness of an audience to accept the aesthetic quality that comes with a true indie film. When friend’s watch your movie, are they going to be able to see the artistry behind your work, or will it be difficult for a generation weened on technical marvels like Cameron’s “Avatar” to feel a connection to the images on the screen. Can they look past the fact that your audio sounds more akin to an FM Radio than a towering Cineplex?

Without question, these inquiries weighed heavy on Ryan Jafri’s mind during his directorial debut, a slick indie short known as “The Cure”. His finished product, however, shows no indication of intimidation or doubt.

“The Cure” begins with some great image work layered with an intense score. An hourglass. A mysterious woman handing an unknown man an envelope. The handgun in the drawer. You understand immediately that you are in for something ominous.

The story follows Kristine Watts, a striking young woman who narrates the film with a voice submerged in deep melancholy. She meets with a mysterious ‘stranger’ who would look right at home in a Scorcese film and the envelope exchange scene we saw earlier in the intro plays out. She tells us that “It all ends, right here”.

The audience is unaware of what ends, exactly, but through the black and white film grain and the gloomy guitar work, it is obvious that these two are involved in something wrong and potentially dangerous. It is interesting to note Jafri’s use of sound, color, and texture do more to tell us what is going on than dialogue could accomplish.

The image of the hourglass appears again to let us know that a countdown has begun. The narration continues as Kristine remembers what her life was like just a few short months before. Slowly we begin to see the tumultuous downward spiral her life has taken.

We also get to follow the stranger after the envelope exchange. To me, much of the film’s depth is added by the ability of this character, played by the wonderfully stoic Douglas Davis. With no lines of dialogue, his character is able to invoke a great sense of mystery and I find myself wanting to follow him even after the film has concluded.

And the conclusion, when it comes, succeeds in leaving the viewer satisfied. For a debut short, “The Cure” manages to show where director Ryan Jafri shines. He understands atmosphere and the importance of tonality and texture. Not just in image, but of sound as well. He also excels in pacing, one of the most important aspects of indie filmmaking. All too often, audiences can become bored or distracted when it comes to the indie circuit. This is not the case with “The Cure” and I found it very easy to watch and just simply enjoyable.


I will point out that while this is obviously not a studio epic, I find it much easier to identify what Jafri does right rather than what the film lacks. This is not always the case when dealing with first time directors.

Ryan Jafri was nice enough to have a conversation with me about the origins of his film and our conversation transcends into a discussion about the indie film universe itself. If you are interested at all in filmmaking, I think you will find some interesting tips here from someone who has lived through his first filmmaking adventure.

Click Here for my conversation with “The Cure” director, Ryan Jafri!
And please, check out Ryan Jafri's other works in progress as well as “The Cure” at Jafri Pictures!

"I want to talk about how bad you make this room look."

Crazy Heart (2009)

Crazy Heart is a smooth ride through the tail end career of country music legend, Bad Blake. The character of Bad Blake transcends cliche due to the tremendous acting ability of Jeff Bridges, who's career reads as a monument to the craft with such films as The Fisher King, The Big Lebowski, and my favorite, the Fabulous Baker Boys.

It is in Bad Blake that we see Bridges at his most vulnerable and heartfelt. Bad Blake seems like someone you could genuinely like, someone you could even admire. It's obvious that many do, as he goes from town to town and is constantly recognized and praised for his musical career. And while Blake does have moments where he displays true signs of gratefulness and appreciation of his fans (usually resulting in free booze and quick women), it is obvious that a deep rooted pain prevents him from completely enjoying his celebrity status.

The film opens with Bad getting ready to perform a gig in an empty bowling alley. This is an obvious departure from the sold out arenas we assume he played in his glory days, and yet here he is. It is also here that we are introduced to the tumultuous relationship Blake shares with his unnamed manager. In the beginning of the film, Blake's conversations with the manager usually end in a slew of hateful words and judging from the small town bowling alley, it's easy to understand Blake's disappointment. However, as the film progresses it becomes clear to the audience that the manager is not necessarily to blame for Blake's current career path.

The meat of the film begins when a bubbly, small town reporter by the name of Jean Craddock is granted an interview with Blake. Jean is played by Maggie Gyllenhaal in what is absolutely the best role I have seen her in. Again, this character could have been easily reduced to cliche if it were not for the subtlety and compassion Gyllenhaal is able to give her role. This understated style of acting is what pushes an indie film like this through obscurity and into acclaim, creating an atmosphere where we as the audience are able to watch without judgment or distraction.

Blake is immediately struck by Jean's beauty, but it is not obvious that she feels the same way. She asks questions that go beyond the music industry and into personal regions of Blake's heart which he is quick to combat, ending the interview early but promising her a second chance after his next show. The second interview happens (over a few drinks) and a part of Blake we had not been privy to as of yet begins to shine. The audience falls in love with him and it becomes apparent that Jean does as well.

Despite this, Blake is still Bad and his tour must continue, as well as his drinking and self deprecation. Can a good woman truly save a bad man? It's a question that many films attempt to answer, yet Crazy Heart manages to embrace this inquiry from a more delicate angle than most. Should Jean, who has a young child of her own, risk her heart on a traveling soul who seems to love her and dislike himself in the same breath? Blake seeks redemption and the film chronicles this search in a way that engages audiences despite the lack of explosions, car chases, and gratuitous sex scenes.

Surprise appearances from Robert Duvall as Blake's long time friend and Collin Ferrall as Blake's one time apprentice and band mate create a world in which Bad Blake lives and breathes. The music, penned by T Bone Burnett and Stephen Bruton, float through the film effortlessly and never seems forced or fraudulent. This is important as there are many scenes in which Blake performs. If these scenes fail, then the entire atmosphere that is Crazy Heart would be destroyed. Luckily for us, they do not, and I feel this film handles it's music much better than the Johnny Cash biopic, Walk the Line.

Crazy Heart is seamless and goes down like silk. The film succeeds as a small gem among Hollywood giants. It does push certain emotional buttons that will no doubt warrant an obvious response from it's audience, but it does so with subtlety and texture. It handles these moments with tenderness, love and joy. It is these ingredients that will hopefully keep people talking about the film for many years to come.

"Dutch Pyschological Horror or Another Reason to Stay Indoors."

The Vanishing (1988)



The Vanishing is one of those films that I just love. The plot is simple, the cast is minimal, there is no superficial action or violence, and yet it's effect is powerful and significant.

Without ruining anything, I can tell you that Rex and his love interest, Seskia, are going on a road trip. Soon after, Seskia is abducted. I can tell you this because the film uses "what you know" as a method of building suspense. It works in a way I found very interesting and I recall an overwhelming sense of dread during the entirety of the film's first 25 minutes.

The remainder of the film is a meditation on the obsession of two men, Rex and Seskia's abductor. Rex hopes to find the whereabouts of his missing friend, now gone for three years. He plasters fliers all over the city and is the guest on television shows. He is unable to form a new love relationship because of his endless desire to know just what happened to Seskia.

The abductor becomes aware of Rex and his efforts to find the truth. With the same intensity, the abductor actually begins to follow Rex. This leads to a relationship which ends so dramatically that my stomach began to ache and I wanted the film to end. Please note, this is not because of graphic or sexual violence. Director George Sluizer was able to accomplish a level of true climatic suspense without having to blow things up or cut things off.

It appears that Sluizer has actually directed an American remake of this film for $20 million dollars, ten times the amount of its Dutch predecessor. While I haven't seen it, I find it hard to believe that this kind of film could exist in the Hollywood machine. It is not a necessarily fun ride. It does not have a Disney ending. But what it does have is tenacity, integrity, and an unflinching desire to stare into the eyes of the things we fear most. Isolation. Ignorance. Pain and suffering. Perhaps by reflecting on these qualities, we may be better apt to avoid them in our every day life.

"Hello! I Must Be Going..."

Woody Allen once revealed, "I can't really come up with a good argument to choose life over death. Except that I'm too scared." In 'Whatever Works', the "Allen" character, Boris Yellnikoff (Larry David), a retired physicist living in Manhattan, swallows this fear and tells us (literally) that he once tried to kill himself. While he obviously failed, the attempt did give him an ongoing limp and added to his already extremely pessimistic view on life.

This attitude is handled wonderfully by Larry David, whose ability to express cynicism and dread has been fully showcased on the series, 'Curb Your Enthusiasm'. Here, Larry David is only slightly less 'Larry David' as we know him and perhaps more 'Alvy Singer'. Boris is sarcastic and depressed and he has a deep need to express his greatness to all who will listen. He was, after all, almost considered for a Nobel Prize.

Like other Allen films, the 4th wall is breached often by Boris. He confides in the audience and seems to feel like we are on his level intellectually, while the people around him are just "inchworms". Those "cretins", however, are unaware of us. They think that Boris is going crazy and wonder who he is talking to. It's comedic but it also affirms to Boris that he is, in fact, the only one who can see the big picture.

The story begins to develop when we meet Melody played by Evan Rachel Wood. She's a transplant from the deep south and after some family problems, she escaped to New York, homeless yet still remarkably positive. She shows up on Boris' doorstep who, after some convincing, reluctantly agrees to let her stay for a night. Which turns into a week...Which turns into...Well, you'll see.



We meet Melody's conservative, religious family and Boris' liberal, upstate New York friends, and along the way we see changes so drastic, they border cliche.

But to discredit the film for this reason would be wrong. Allen has created a parable more so than a film with this piece. Things are one way, lessons are learned, and then things change. Immensely. And then it's over. Yes, it's glossy and extreme at times, and it's not necessarily realistic in any regard...but the idea is that something is taught, that something Boris has rambled off to you has stuck. I believe it works. It's a film about suffering, dread, and pain, but ultimately, 'Whatever Works' is about joy.

For a more serious film about an old smarty pants and a young bubbly girl, check out 'Starting Out In the Evening'. It stars Frank Langella and is serene, I tell you!


**This was written while listening to Wolves in the Throne Room. Check em out**

"I never really considered him a member, always thought he was more of a loner."

1984. Bad hair, bad clothes, bad jokes, all immortalized by bad movies. My compadre jokingly referred to The Party Animal, this celebration of the human libido, as not an 80's B movie, but more like a "80's C movie". Or maybe it was even a "D". Breast, profanity, breast, sex jokes, a great porn store scene, more breast, drugs, and more breast all create this jumbled, dreamlike sensation of a film.

Capturing the appeal that most find in the early films of say, PCU and Porkys, I would venture to say that while Party Animal lacks the memorable characters and cohesive plot development, it shines with a surrealness and complete absurdness that makes our modern films like Borat so memorable.

The idea is like many 80's sexploitation films: somewhat nerdy guy wants nothing more than to get laid. His sidekick, Studly, does his best to lead him to the ways of the woman but to no avail. Its only after a chemistry experiment goes wrong that our hero Pondo Sinatra is transformed into the party monster, a being whom no woman can resist.

What seperates this film from some of its peers is its rough edges, dreamlike qualities, and almost a level of intentional obscurity. Its wierd, stupid, gross, funny, sexy and completely 80's. A Punk rock soundtrack compliments the film with bands like the Buzzcocks, The Fleshtones, R.E.M., and the Untouchables. This is great fun to have around the house for that person in your life who thinks they've seen it all.

Senses of Cinema

Theres an appreciation for bleakness inside me. An affection for the cynical which draws me to auteurs such as Woody Allen, Ingmar Bergman, Passolini, etc etc... But theres a hopefullness in the works of Krzysztof Kieslowski that has the ability to strip me of my armor and leave my jaw on the floor everytime. He's done it to me before in The Dekalog: Episode 1, hosting a closing 5 minutes that absolutely makes cartoons out of false drama found in hollywood plastics like Hagis' 'Crash' and Eastwoods 'Million Dollar Baby'. His work inspires me to create, to be connected, and to love. I have found these emotions once again in the latest film of his that I have viewed, The Double Life of Veronique.

Wikipedia claims that when Quentin Tarantino first saw Double Life at Cannes that he immediately became enamoured with the films star, Irene Jacob. Me too, Q, me too. How could you not! It continues to claim that he wrote the part of Bruce Willis' wife for Irene but she was shooting Red at the time. GOOD CHOICE IRENE. Sure, Pulp Fiction went on to win the Palm D'Or, but Red cemented Kieslowski's reputation as one of cinema's most important figures of all time.

Anyone can research the story line behind Double Life. Jacob plays two characters, Weronika in Poland and Veronique in France, and Kieslowski plays on the intresnic connection that these two characters feel for each other, though they have never met. Weronika makes statements to her father, "I feel like Im not alone...". Her father smiles, but she knows he cant possibly understand the complete labyrinth of emotions connected to that feeling. Veronique gets similar feelings as her life of intrigue unfolds. There is so much to be thankful for in this film that to say the plot is about two people becomes irrelevant. The real plot is about connectivity.

The movie is a gem, especially to Kieslowski fans, which we all are, even if you havent seen any of his films. We all want to feel like we're not alone. We all want love. Connection. Emotion. Truth. Our cynicism escapes when we foolishly begin to feel like these things dont exist, or are too temporary to hold on to. Kieslowski knows that they do exist, and that when there are so many things that seperate us, we have no choice but to rely on the few key elements that connect us.

Take 10 drinks of water and eat peanut butter....

Sometimes you can keep a film on your shelf for months on end before deciding to test the waters. This was my experience with Hukkle, a Hungarian film boasting no dialouge. For so long I put off watching it, perhaps the term 'no dialouge' pushed me away, or maybe I was afraid of just another experimental art film boring me to tears. Finally I gave it a chance and I am very thankful I did. From Hukkle's website, directory György Pálfi gives us this synapsis:

I think that the most important organizing

elements of the film are the rhythm,

different noises and voices that stand

in place of the words and sentences stated

in concrete situations, and mixed

by those generate some strange mixture,

a kind of "symphony of noises".

From the small noises appear micro-stories that,

compared with the spoken words

point exactly the sole real story,

the human tragedy hidden behind peace.

Plays as sort of some fictionalized documentary coupled with sound experimentation, Hukkle stands in a genre of its own. The idea is that the village elder's hiccup's set a tempo, and a story develops in secret by the sounds and images that follow. My favorite parts were ones where scene craftsmanship is apparent. A ladybug playfully crawling up a female shepherd stuck out to me, then fluttering off at just the right moment. You can't train a ladybug!!! Many times during the film, subtle things such as this showed apparent rhythm and tempo from the director and crew. I love films that have technical acheivements like this, Russian Ark is another that comes to mind.

The 'secret' way of storytelling that I spoke of earlier is actually what director Pálfi considers a 'style game', using 'magic images' : pictures you can view one way, then turn upside down and get a new picture altogether. To the left we see an old woman in a hat, turn it upside down and you get an old man, actually pretty similar looking to uncle Bandi in the film. This is the idea that Pálfi played with when determining how to tell his story and it works really well.

The DVD I had contained some extra features, namely a commentary that was very fun and some behind the scenes 'making of' segment, which really moved me. The cast were all indigenous people of the village of Ozora and many of them, predominately elder Uncle Bandi, were able to travel with the film crew to festivals and awards ceremonies throughout the world. That was the real joy to see, real people enjoying their adventurous lives. For the crew, I would have to imagine that was the real payoff.