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Friday, May 8, 2009
What I’m watching
Wherein our movie critic periodically shares what DVDs he’s been viewing in his spare time …
- “In Between Days” (2006; So Yong Kim): An effortless, super lo-fi little story about a teenage South Korean immigrant in America, whose only friend is another Korean immigrant. She clearly likes him, but his protective platonic shield is up high, so sexual tension sizzles then fizzles between them in dramatic ebbs and flows. Minimalist to the max, the film is the debut of So Yong Kim, whose next feature, “Treeless Mountain,” opens June 5 at the Arbor. (Odd: This is one of those movies you’ve already seen but sort of forgot it until you pop it in the player and realize what happened. I’ve now seen it twice.)
- “Basquiat” (1996; Julian Schnabel): If you can get past David Bowie’s jarringly dissonant impersonation of Andy Warhol and its lost but ego-inflated title character (Jeffrey Wright), this is a riveting look at the ’80s New York art scene and its morbid casualties. Colorful and inspired direction are the hallmarks of this biopic and have become Schnabel’s auteurist trademark. He’s gotten even better, coming into his own as a visionary filmmaker (“Before Night Falls,” “Butterfly and the Diving Bell”). I saw this film some time ago, but my allergy to biopics put me off. It was much better this time.
- “Man Push Cart” (2005; Ramin Bahrani): I’ve also seen this before, but re-watched as part of my recent Ramin Bahrani (“Chop Shop,” “Goodbye Solo”) kick. A completely assured first feature that, as others have said, encapsulates American independent film: non-professional actors, no musical score, grainy hand-held camerawork, live locations. Modest in scope but generous in humanity, it’s another minimalist entry in the unofficial “neo-neorealism” genre. Captivating and gratifying.
- “Wise Blood” (John Huston; 1979): I don’t know how I forgot most of this wry and funny and wonderfully offbeat drama, but a second viewing brought it all back, and better. Huston’s take on the famed Flannery O’Connor material is a southern-gothic blast and scathing critique of old-time religion gone rancid and exploitative. A lot of fun with glorious performances by a cast that seethes eccentricity: Brad Dourif, Ned Beatty, Amy Wright, Harry Dean Stanton and others, including Huston himself.
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Review of “The Room”
Here’s a statement not often made in reference to “The Room”; it makes sense to me.
Not the movie, which delivers on its reputation as a terribly executed, barely comprehensible mess. But an intro/Q&A session with Tommy Wiseau, the film’s director/producer/lead actor, Wednesday at The Alamo Drafthouse offered a look into the mind just warped and deluded enough to churn out a finished product that’s the cinematic equivalent of a Thalidomide baby. I now understand how “The Room” was ever possible in the first place.
Looking like a cross between modern day Mickey Rourke and Glen Danzig, Wiseau held forth for about 20 minutes that was part Q&A but mostly ramble on topics such as life (“It’s whatever you want it to be” and “You can’t have 100 percent if you don’t have 20 percent first.”); the film industry (“They need more people from Texas… and I don’t say that because I like people from Texas, I don’t.”) And he repeatedly called out and threatened the writer (presumed to be not in attendance) of a recent unflattering profile in the Austin Chronicle.
From there Wiseau encouraged the audience to take up the movie’s growing cult fandom behaviors such as throwing plastic spoons and footballs at various points - even though Alamo organizers discouraged it - before the lights went down for his piece de “OH MY GOD IT’S REALLY AS BAD AS THEY SAID IT IS!”
Although truthfully, “bad” isn’t the right descriptor for “The Room.” Movies like the “Fantastic Four” or “Surviving Christmas” are bad because they’re ultimately lifeless, empty approximations of genre stories we’ve seen before. Forgotten as quick as they leave the screen.
“The Room,” on the other hand, is such a misshapen, incongruous mashup of poor acting, bad editing, dropped plots and amazingly wretched dialogue - “Anyway, how is your sex life?” - that it’s impossible to forget. Sure it might be really really terrible, but in the end all that awful gets people engaged and reacting to the movie. Is that so bad?
That’s the argument Wiseau makes, trying to play off that his goal all along was to make something that would be remembered by audiences for a long time even it was for a movie that would never dream of sniffing a Razzie, let alone an Oscar.
It was pointless face-saving, of course. Smiling uncomfortably when asked about the movie’s cult following and its reputation as one of the worst movies ever, Wiseau put up his best front to make it seem like he was the smartest guy in the room instead of a punchline holding a microphone.
It was all an act though, and just like in movie that followed, Wiseau’s acting in real life was laughably bad.
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Edwin “Bud” Shrake dies
Austin journalist, novelist and playwright Edwin “Bud” Shrake died early Friday at St. David’s Hospital, Gary Cartwright, his friend of 50 years said.
Shrake, 77, said in August he had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer that had spread to his abdomen. Doctors told him at the time that the cancer was relatively slow-growing and gave him between 18 and 24 months to live.
Shrake began his career writing sports for the “Ft. Worth Press” and moved on to a roving correspondent for “Sports Illustrated.” He was the author of some 10 novels and three nonfiction books, including “Harvey Penick’S Little Red Book,” which he co-authored and which became the biggest-selling sports book in America.
That windfall freed Shrake to write what he pleased for the rest of his life.
He was twice married to his first wife, Joyce, with whom he had two sons, Ben and Alan.
He was married to Austin real estate agent Doatsy Shrake from 1966 to 1980. In more recent years he was the longtime companion of former Texas Gov. Ann Richards.
Despite his terminal diagnosis, Shrake was well enough to appear at the Texas Book Festival, where he talked about his collection, “Land of the Permanent Wave,” to a packed room.
Arrangements are pending.
