As the credits rolled at the end of Jeremy Osbern’s feature film Air, I looked at my wife and said “Wow, that was not only a good indie film, it made me feel good.” Rare these days as too many indie filmmakers are content to film their navels while mumbling to someone who may or may not be a stranger in the corner of a room something like “I dunno..maybe?” It is all one can do to sit through these valiant efforts, much less enjoy them. Granted, Jeremy and his team at Through a Glass Productions are not exactly beginners-Jeremy is an award-winning filmmaker in his I believe, late twenties and Producer Christopher Blunk has an accomplished track record in his own right-but together they made this movie in their home town of Lawrence, KS with mostly homegrown talent, moxie, and a love of community that comes through every frame.

“Air” is an original musical, at once a romantic comedy and a drama as it tracks three ordinary folks who feel out of place in the world. Not pandering to stereotypes, Osbern and co-writer Blunk frame a middle-age African-American falling for a lonely soul in a country western bar. Lovely without being saccharine, Granvile O’Neal and Brenda Harvey sing and dance in Osbern’s (another triple or quadruple threat) excellent cinematography, which never misses a beat the entire film. Nothing short of professional.

Ian Stark and Megan Carter meet in a head-on collision. Not the most auspicious start to unlocking one’s heart, but if Air drives home one point, it’s that it doesn’t matter how you get there, just get there. Dylan Hilpman and Jennifer Coville are young lovers who get lost amid the pitfalls of youth (Oh! Ambition!) as he looks for the perfect song, blind to the fact it was at his elbow the whole time.

All the performances are heartfelt and the dramatic moments come with pounds. I was amazed at how good they looked on screen (my LA moment-sue me) But all the tech savvy, beautiful people, and camera tricks in the world don’t amount to a hill of beans if the story does not have honest, universal, emotional chops. Seek this one out. It’s good stuff from Kansas.

Last night saw me and me chum Rita Thompson hitting the Hammer to take in Roy Anderson's latest, You, the Living, as part of the LA Film Festival. The film screened at 10 PM on a Monday night but the line was not a zoo at the Billy Wilder Theater and we got seats. For those readers familiar with Roy Anderson's previous film Songs From the Second Floor or his commercials for TV, you know what you've come for. Tragicomedy in one take in one frame. Genius when it works as it did for most of Songs.

You, the Living  is an exploration on the "grandeur of existence, centered around the lives of an overweight woman, a disgruntled psychiatrist, a heart broken groupie, a carpenter, a business consultant, an elementary school teacher with emotional issues and her rug selling husband, among others. I admit it flags at times, eliciting one or two audience members to laughter, but rarely the way I saw it.

Shot in an unconventional manner, it consists of a fluent succession of exactly 50 short set-ups each filmed in one take. Most of them have an absurd but all-too-human undertone. It utilizes a combination of alienating techniques such as presenting the characters in grim make-up and having them talk to the camera, turning them into highly expressed folks you see everyday but fail to see as well.

Anderson can be heavy-handed in his feelings about the death penalty (the set-up is funny as the devil) and other issues he feels strongly about. But when these moments flag, there is always his amazing production design (all scenes are filmed on sound stages!) and framing. A dream of a groupie at home after her wedding is flat-out amazing.

The audience laughter died out abit after the opening sequence but I chalk that up to mostly not knowing how to take Anderson. Is he being mean? Sarcastic? Serious? Funny? I can't think of a better compliment to pay a filmmaker, who while you decide on those questions, wows you with his moviemaking.

 Most filmmakers-but not all-are driven to pick up a camera and start shooting because they saw a movie that just blew them away and they had to make one, if not just like it, then something damn close. The Yuzzi Brothers (Co Directors Thomas Vosicky and Kenneth Kit Lamug) shot their first full-length film, "Vegasland", for a budget of under $2,000. It was shot mainly during Wednesdays and Thursdays between the times of 9pm and 3am in various locations throughout Las Vegas using "Guerilla filmmaking tactics". Most of the editing was done in home computers with software available to anyone: Truly Indie Filmmaking.

The Yuzzi Brothers do wear their influences (Guy Ritchie, Quentin Tarantino) on their collective sleeves but lack of originality never trumps style and technique in Las Vegas, right?

Professional Gambler, Eddie G, played very well by Ernell Manabat, is taken in for the ride of his life as he unwillingly helps a dirty-psychotic cop, Decker (Greg Opal) Decker takes Eddie on a tour of terror while trying to find a meth addict named Worm (Jeffrey Crawford) who has a video tape of an underground fight where everything went awry.

What blew me away with Vegasland is the sheer number of characters and locations in a no-budget film. True, the pacing is disrupted a few too many times by extended riffs straight out of Pulp Fiction, and the way it was structured and shot in ‘modules’ or set pieces (one of which involves some scorpions!) but then the filmmakers kick the narrative back into gear and zoom, off we go again. The performances are believable despite several misfires and one cares about the players which is what story is all about.

The movie was shot using a Panasonic DVX100 and downloaded and edited using a 500GB USB drive. Go here to check out these very talented filmmakers.

  It’s a cliché now I suppose that really indie films-shorts and features- usually, one, involve people in a room torturing each other and the viewer; or two, are made for other ‘indie’ artists to watch and plug; or three (perhaps the one most prickly) made to get Hollywood’s-or any patron of the arts-attention. Despite there being a grain of truth in these cynical assumptions, I believe that some folks still make films or music or paintings, et al. because they simply enjoy the process, much like a carpenter enjoys building a a fine bench.

 Amir Motlagh, an artist of many hyphenates, sent along two of his short film works, Plain Us and Knock Knock for HIT to take a look at. Mr. Motlagh is one to take events and experiences of his life and plane them into fiction that shoot for a reality that the rest of us can relate to. By and large, he hits more than he misses (Mumble Idiots-ah ehm) in that he stretches out little moments that might otherwise be tossed in the trash.

In Knock Knock ,a really appealing Chris Manz plays a struggling internet comic, more or less dealing with the real demands of age who attains a wistful kind of fame. Of course an old girlfriend comes calling and old ambitions and wounds are brought up.  Shot in 16mm (!) Knock Knock looks good on DVD, a credit to cinematographer Zamir Kokonozi. Moments of  honesty retreat into silence, nice photographs, original music, et al; not enough to engage the viewer in 20 minutes, despite the miles-wide open Manz and the efforts of co-stars Keaton Shyler and Lene Pederson.

Plain Us..Rock..and..Roll. Mr. Motlagh ratchets it up a notch, mixing it up, batting it this way and that, getting to the heart of the matter. He plays a singer/leader of a rock band who has to come home again. Of course it hurts when there is a wife and daughter you rarely see. Shrudder..Yet, filmmaking-wise, the short looks good. Color-Correction, framing, the elements are there. Kindy Barr dials in a good performance as the put-upon young Mom opposite Motlagh who is wildly photogenic in musician mode. He steals the frame in this capacity and is quiet believable on screen. Theme-wise, I'm not sure his goals come across powerfully to the viewer but is that so important? At the end of the day you express yourself and put it out there. Only he-Mr. Motlagh-knows for sure or not if he is enjoying building the bench.

 I want to believe he is.

A.O. Scott seems to be taking on the malaise of reviewing films for a living in his musing on the Cannes selection Delta

To make a festival film, you must first choose a location, ideally a remote region only lightly touched by modernity, where the people say very little and an unseen authority rigorously enforces laws against smiling. You will film the landscape and its inhabitants in long takes with minimal camera movements. Though the characters will generally do very little — walk, smoke, sigh — their more significant actions characteristically will be undertaken in the absence of a discernible motive. Even as nothing much seems to happen, a mood of menace and portent will hang in the air, usually culminating in a burst of violence in the movie’s last minutes.

Next thing you know he will be making them.

For those of us over thirty (ahem), love between the ages of 19 to 26 often makes us wince in recognition, regret, maybe a little of both. In Writer/Director Aaron Coffman’s DIY indie feature, Texas Snow, those two emotions pretty much hold true. It’s a love triangle between early twenties Jesse (John Gregory Willard), an aspiring artist (painter I think) who falls for Caroline (Julia Rust) a very photogenic ballerina. The conflict is that Jesse’s roommate, Lee (Ryan Shields) used to date Caroline as well and fell hard when she turned down his marriage proposal. Stolen love is some of the best kind of love but…I’ll leave that for another time.

Suffice it to say, there is a scene where Jesse and Caroline are partying with her old school chum, Libby Bibb, who comes off like a budding lesbian alcoholic (don’t we all have friends like that?) who just laughs insanely throughout her scenes with Jesse and Caroline. But Jesse is young and in love, blind to the signals that Bibb is wheezing through bowls of beer, namely that she nor Caroline nor anyone really is serious at this stage of life; and blind to the hurt he has caused his friend and roommate Lee. If this all sounds trite it need not. Coffman is minimal in dialogue and directed his actors and cinematographer (Keith Hueffmeier) to follow suit, and the result has a certain poetic vibe that avoids many clichés.

Yet, for a triangle to generate empathy and emotion in the viewer there must be some kind of build-up to the climax. Texas Snow has only one pace: Slow. Composer Keegan DeWitt’s (of Quiet City and Dance Party USA fame) score plodded the film down even more. I longed to see some anger, violence, sex (I can see actress Julia Rust on the CW in a Josh Swartz vehicle any day now) or anything that brought the pulse up a notch. The same goes for most of the Mumblecore films, who in avoiding cliché so stridently have become one. Having said that, Coffman has made a competent, well-crafted film. The structural maturity, pacing, depth will come in time with his future efforts.

(reviewed by Jerry Brewington for HIT)

Baystate Blues

The mantra of writing programs all across the US academic landscape is “write what you know” and indie filmmakers have taken it to heart. True, the results are often mixed but it has to be kept in mind that many of these filmmakers are making their first films and are still finding their film language, their style, their footing. Such is the case with Writer/Director Mark Lewis’ feature dramedy Baystate Blues, a portrait of a young family coping with the problems and challenges of life in a rural part of upstate Mass.

Mark Lewis is Mike, a young working man married to Devon, played well by Allyson Sereboff. It seems Devon has had some accident that has not only crippled her physically but emotionally as well, and it is wreaking some havoc on their marriage and extended family relationships. Lewis performance works but some of the writing with its scatological exchanges often falls flat, especially when it involves Devon’s sister, Alex (Steffi Kammer) who is the liberal artist who copes by acting air-headed  and non-committal. The same goes for his interaction with Virginia (Sharon Maguire), who seems your normal simple gal from a small town (sound familiar?) It should because, to mangle Leo Tolstoy’s famous quote, [“ all unhappy familes are unhappy in nearly the same ways.”] This robs the film of some it’s emotional impact, just as it does big-budgeted studio faire, but that is not to say it ruins the project. Lewis’ dialogue while he works with his fellow carpenters is quiet good (as well as the cinematography) and the viewer gets a real sense of folks interacting on the job.

There are other scenes that work, especially when the film gets out of the house and into the beautiful Mass countryside. Even if Lewis’ direction and pacing hits a few off notes, I believe he by-and-large accomplishes what he set out to do: Draw a simple picture of small town America through the eyes of one family going through some tough things and coming out better for it. The performers, who photograph well, are fairly good and I can see the young actors getting better and better the more roles and projects they take on.

All in all, a solid effort from Mike Lewis and his cast and I look forward to checking out their next project.

Rev. by Jerry Brewington for HIT.

(For more info on the film go to www.baystateblues.net )

Road to Victory, a RTV Pictures production of a Mike Reilly film, is the kind of indie work that does so many things right on a modest budget. Many similar films rush through the writing, production, and editing to the detriment of the DIY indie film movement. Even your most patient, open-minded film watcher is quicker to realize bad work in an small indie film than say, an explosion-filled, neurosis-inducing shit blast that is a

Michael Bay film.

But I digress.

Road to Victory is a timely story of a college football quarterback named Elliot. He is under pressure from his Coach and (I believe) the memory of his father, both who wanted and want him to perform up to pro standards. These scenes are played with subtlety by triple-threat Mike Reilly who takes what could be the cliché of a college football quarterback and quietly gives the role depth. Mike meets and falls in love with fellow college student and part-time stripper Anna  (Julia Anderson) who does a decent job playing naughty-and nice; not an easy task. Mike just has one problem though:

He can’t get it up.

If that’s not traumatic enough, Anna is falling for one of the customers at the strip club even as the young couple struggles to find the source of Elliot’s impotence. A curious side story develops when Elliot has ‘gender ‘trouble with his female doctor (Poppi Reiner), sending him on a mini doctor-shopping spree until he happens upon a doctor

(Peter Abrams) who seems to have personal experience concerning Elliot’s dark secret. I don’t want to reveal what that secret is because the film does a great job going through the treatments (traumatic!) and Elliot’s denial, frustration, and acceptance of the choices life puts in front of you.

What really stood out in Road to Victory is the production value. The cinematography (shot by Brent Buntyn, Steven Deneault, and Todd Bell) especially stands out in scenes in the strip club and on the football field. Beautifully lit tracking shots are cut very well by editor Kristoffer Newsom.

The film does hit some false notes, perhaps in the structure and pacing but overall a solid effort. Mike and his team will go on to make bigger and bigger films.

Go to www.rtvfilm.com for more information on the film and filmmakers

Manohla Dargis reviews Anderson's TWBB for the NYTS. Finally, a film to get excited about.

“There Will Be Blood” exhibits much the same qualities as Mr. Anderson’s previous work — every shot seems exactly right — but its narrative form is more classical and less weighted down by the pressures of self-aware auteurism. It flows smoothly, linearly, building momentum and unbearable tension. Mr. Day-Lewis’s outsize performance, with its footnote references to Huston and strange, contorted Kabuki-like grimaces, occasionally breaks the skin of the film’s surface like a dangerous undertow. The actor seems to have invaded Plainview’s every atom, filling an otherwise empty vessel with so much rage and purpose you wait for him to blow. It’s a thrilling performance, among the greatest I’ve seen, purposefully alienating and brilliantly located at the juncture between cinematic realism and theatrical spectacle.

Oh boy, this one just keeps sounding better and better.

Hey there y'all. Tis the season for scary movies.

I've posted a review on our Indieflics page for a film titled Harvest Moon. It comes to us from Cedar Street Productions and Brent Nowak who produces, directs, edits, and stars in the movie.

Check it the review now.

Their DVD is available for sale. Go to www.harvestmoonmovie.com.

- The lovely wordsmith Mahnola Dargis on Clooney and his new film Michael Clayton:

Recently, Mr. Clooney has served as a guide into a different country, one in which the media fails, capitalism kills and heroes stumble. His glamour and easy manner make these excursions feel less a matter of duty than of necessity; they provide the pleasure that softens the pain. He does some strong work here, especially when he’s nursing his character’s misery or gently squaring off against the young actor (Austin Williams), who plays his son. But he’s almost always good, and he’s a big enough star now that each new role feels as if he’s playing a version of himself. That’s O.K. We need George Clooney, just as we needed Warren Beatty — seducer of heavy hearts and troubled minds, the beautiful bearer of our very bad tidings. (NYTS)

- About a Son, the decidely indie film about Kurt Cobain, opens in Los Angeles today.

- Filmmaker David Lowery on Into the Wild: There's a moment early on where McCandless is eating an apple. It's a series of quick cuts - a sign of extended improvisation pared down to its best moments - and it ends with McCandless (or, rather, Emile Hirsch) turning directly towards the camera and making a face. It's an overt acknowledgment of Penn's lens, and it's the first sign of the formal recklessness of the film.

If you have never seen Roy Andersson's Songs From the Second Floor or some of his Swedish TV commercials, I urge, no-strong-arm you-to do so. Amazing filmmaker. I can't wait to see his latest effort You, the Living. J. Robert of Framing Device posted an early review from ,I believe, The Toronto Film Fest:

The film’s first 15-20 minutes are hilarious. I’m so happy there were subtitles, as the crowd’s laughter drowned out almost all the dialogue. One shot of an old man “walking” his dog is set up so beautifully that the laughter cascaded over the theater; it’s as if Tati had grown a mean streak. Andersson’s visual style is more austere this time around, with faded and even washed-out colors, but his mise en scene is even richer, if that’s possible. Numerous throw-away jokes or moments happen in the background (it’s amazing how Andersson uses extras for comic effect), and the slow pace of editing allows the scenes to build in power. As the movie continues through its 95 minutes, the humor is mixed with mournful protest. But there’s also an abiding sense of hope, with a beautiful song (hymn?) repeated at various points.

Damn, this seems like Blood Simple times 10. Don't miss it.

- The lovely NYTS wordsmith Mahnola Dargis run downs the New York Film Fest and Ang Lee's Lust, Caution. Her colleague AO Scott reviews Darjeeling.

- Yes, you're right. TV stars are paid an ungodly amount of $$$$$$$$$$$$.

- Scott Weinberg of Cinematical checks in with a kick-ass review of PT Anderson's There Will Be Blood: "Easily one of the year's best films (so far), There Will Be Blood presents a side of Paul Thomas Anderson that we haven't really seen yet -- but it's proof positive that he's still one of the finest directors out there right now. You probably won't believe that this film came from the same man who directed (the awesome) Boogie Nights, and I mean that as a big compliment. It's just that different -- and just that damned good." Can't wait.

- Finally, Steven Boone on The Kingdom for The House Next Door : The Kingdom is a two-faced liar. It promotes the idea of bloody American exceptionalism in the same breath that it sings We Are the World. Just like those CNN reports that show U.S. soldiers high-fiving Iraqi kids while giving out candy, it uses sentimental music and editorial sleight of hand to insist that whatever our servicepeople and intelligence agents do Over There, they do it with love." Ouch.

The beautiful, sexy, intelligent Mahnola Dargis in the NYTS on The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.

It’s [Brad Pitt's] a curious performance, at once central and indistinct, but then, so too is the character. Based on the novel of the same title by Ron Hansen, the film introduces James at the beginning of his end. Hunkered down in some woods, surrounded by darkly dressed men and leafless birch trees, and framed by Roger Deakins’s impeccable, stark, high-contrast cinematography, he looks a vision. This isn’t just Jesse James — it’s also Jim Morrison at the Whisky in 1966 with a dash of Laurence Olivier, a touch of Warren Beatty and more than a hint of Ralph Lauren. It’s the beautiful bad man, knowing and doomed, awaiting his fate like some Greco-Hollywood hero, rather than the psychotic racist of historical record.

This may not be the Western my Dad was looking for. He likes his more in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly vein. It's a shame because Andrew Dominik's Chopper was a kick-ass film. Instead he gets bogged down in the poetry for God's sake. Ralph Lauren?! Christ almighty. Well, there is always 3:10 to Yuma for the old man.

For many this lesson is so old and basic that if one has not learned it by now, then well..You never know, however, when someone is just ripe for recieving it. Nor does it matter how the lesson is delivered, be it by children's church or a review of the latest Bela Tarr movie The Man From London:

I've heard disgruntlements with Béla Tarr's The Man From London; but, for my money (fortunately, not found in a valise), this lustrous film is the most accessible of Tarr's films I've seen. Based on Georges Simenon's novel, The Man From London configures suspense as a question of faith.  It measures the gradations and degradations one is willing to indulge to escape the banal dissatisfactions of everyday life. And it assigns the spiritual task of recognizing that it is in the performance of our everyday tasks that our radiance shines through.  Maloin (Miroslav Krobot), hasn't yet achieved that recognition and - as a consequence - is irremediably tempted by an unexpected windfall; namely, a suitcase full of stolen money. (pic and review from Greencine's Toronto's Dispatch)

Cleaning the dishes, negotiating traffic, executing the task of your day job, the list goes on. O let me recognize!

The Associated Press is giving Matt Damon's newest film excellent marks. Perhaps the third time is a charm? Or is it the fourth, I can never keep track.

In the Wikipedia entry “Korea Under Japanese Rule” the contributor writes:

In the late 19th century and early 20th century, various Western countries were competing for influence, trade, and territory in East Asia while Japan sought to join the modern colonial powers. Securing colonies depended on naval power, which required bases and fuel stations. The newly modernised Meiji government of Japan regarded Korea, then in China's sphere of influence, as an essential bulwark against colonization by the Western powers.^{[citation needed]} The Japanese government initially sought to separate Korea from China and make Korea a Japanese satellite in order to further their security and national interests.^[1] Imperial Japan prohibited an old social system of the Joseon Dynasty and also introduced capitalism and western culture to Korea.

Although Westerners will probaly chalk it up to the follies of war, this occupation of Korea (and China and other Eastern countries) has far deeper, darker ramificatons for those occupied and exploited. Documentary filmmaker Anthony Gilmore explores the terrible ordeal that many outside Korea (and even many younger Koreans) do not not know about: Forced sexual slavery by the Japanese Army of 200,000 young Korean women, many of them teenagers, during World War II.

In “Behind Forgotten Eyes” (Nameless Films and The Enigma Factory) Gilmore lets the women who are still alive tell their story in a simple and direct way while giving voice to the Japanese soldiers who used and abused them. Having lived and worked in Asia for several years, I know a bit about the history and the culture; Why painful things are not talked about, why it’s difficult to aplogize. The most emotionally devastating part of the documentary is the beginning where the these ‘comfort women’, now quiet advanced in age, speak about why they were silent for all these years and why they are speaking out now. Narrated by television show  Lost's Yun-Jin Kim, Gilmore utilizes simple Korean-style animation that powerfully drives home the fact that many of these women were almost children when they were forced into sexual slavery and degredation.

"The House" is the exciting new short from 30-Something Productions, the same folks who made the feature “Afterthought.” I caught that LA Premier at AFI and was impressed with the film they made on a tight budget. In this project, Director/Writer Elford-Argent tackles the greyest, but also often the nastiest, crime by way of a young, manipulative duo and the cop who tries to bring them down. The goals of a short film are the same as that of a full-length. It’s just that you have to get to the point and get to it fast, often in the first shots. Elford-Argent drops us into the action quick. Two masked burglars, Eric Peter-Kaiser and Gwendolyn Garver, break into a wealthy home. What happens after that the Detective, Jeff Murray, has to try to figure out. The young criminals, brother and sister it turns out, seem to be playing a game of cat-and-mouse. Or are they? Through flashbacks Elford-Argent twist our heads and Murrays’ as he does his level-best to find out if these youths are luckless victims or vicious criminals.

As a showcase for the filmmakers, they pretty much deliver. Elford-Argent skills as a director were proven in "Afterthought" and he only sharpens them here. I thought the writing could have been tighter in some places but over all, it gells and delivers. Props go out to DP Jayson Crothers who delivers one beautiful shot after another. The editing was also tight although it could have been tighter near the end to slam home the climax, which composer Dave Walton sets up nicely right from the start. Kaiser has a nice, menacing aura about him, especially around the eyes. His scenes with an equally sharp Murray (who comes from an extensive theater background) stand out and generate the most tension. Garver might just be too pretty for her role. I kept thinking of a damaged waif with dark circles under her eyes and molted skin. Her robbery scenes are the best.

The latest short film from Dream Regime Productions and Def films is “Honey, I’m Home,” a film about infidelity. We knew about these cats from their first kick-ass short “Shoot Out” (see our review here) the story of a game of one-on-one that ends with a bang. In Honey, I’m Home Writer/Director David Branin drops us in an affluent suburb early in the morning as one guilty cheater tries to sneak in the house and avoid the wronged wife. What I liked about this a lot was Branin’s choice of tracking shots and DP/Editor Vincent Martinez’s camera work. As any filmmaker knows, one of the hardest shots in filmmaking to get right, not just in terms technique, but also in terms of rhythm and pacing that draws viewers into the story, is the tracking shot and subsequent editing. This beginning is very well-done indeed.

Jacob Magnuson, playing the rascally cheater, is one helluva photogenic actor so it was not to difficult to light him which Martinez and Branin did to a T. Magnuson also has that much envied “presence” that all actors dream of and therefore, again, draws the viewer in. As we follow Magnuson along, knowing that he and the wife (Karen Worden) are in for some trying times, the tension does build and build. This is where the rubber hits the road. I felt the shot selection and lighting could have been ratcheted up for even more tension.