Month: March 2013

LFM Reviews From Up On Poppy Hill @ The 2013 New York International Children’s Festival

By Joe Bendel. Hosting the 1964 Tokyo Olympics completed Japan’s post-war rebirth. It would announce the arrival of a new democratic capitalist country on the world stage. However, as Japan prepares for the games in 1963, two high school students will come to terms with their past in Gorō Miyazaki’s From Up On Poppy Hill, the latest animated feature from Studio Ghibli (co-adapted from a manga favorite by the director’s legendary animator father Hayao), which screened as part of the 2013 New York International Children’s Festival, in advance of its Friday opening at the IFC Center.

Umi Matsuzaki is the perfect daughter, who studies diligently when she is not cooking and doing chores for her family’s boarding house guests. Unfortunately, her parents are not present to witness her hard work. Her mother is studying in an American graduate program and her father was lost at sea—or at least so she was told. Nevertheless, every morning she raises signal flags in hopes of guiding her sailor father home again. Her grandmother, siblings, and boarders appreciate all her hard work, but there is still a void in her life.

Suddenly, boys come into her life. Through an odd chain of events, the bemused Matsuzaki falls in with the rabble-rousing leaders of the Latin Quarter, a dilapidated fraternity house for her school’s male-dominated academic clubs. As the editor of the Latin Quarter’s newspaper, Shun Kazama has published his poems inspired by Matsuzaki’s flag-raising. Although the administration has decided to demolish their old building, the practical Matsuzaki becomes instrumental in their campaign to save the Latin Quarter. In the process, she and Kazama fall deeply in manga-anime style love. Unfortunately, Kazama discovers a secret link from their family histories that apparently changes everything.

From "From Up On Poppy Hill."

At least the first third of Poppy is solely devoted to establishing Matsuzaki’s small corner of Yokohama and her various relationships with family, boarders, and fellow students. One could say not much happens, yet it is quite pleasant, in large measure due to the great likability of the virtuous but down-to-earth heroine. When Matsuzaki begins her sweetly awkward relationship with Kazama, while counseling his arrogant but well meaning friends, Poppy takes on the vibe of an upscale anime Archie comic. However, the past will continue to intrude on their reluctant melodrama.

Visually, Poppy is quite attractive, but its backgrounds and cityscapes are not nearly as lush as Ghibli’s two previous American releases, The Secret World of Arrietty and Tales from Earthsea. Still, it presents an appealing protagonist for younger girls, especially those who might feel self conscious about being studious or sensitive. Indeed, the fillm’s tone and characters are all quite endearing, propelled along quite nicely by Satoshi Takebe’s lightly swinging themes.

Reportedly, production on Poppy was interrupted but not derailed by the 2011 earthquake and tsunami, which adds a layer of significance to its story of perseverance and preservation. Comparatively small in scope and firmly rooted in reality, Poppy is like the Ghibli version of an Ozu film. Recommended for pre-teens and up who appreciate character driven animation, From Up On Poppy Hill opens this Friday (3/15) in New York, downtown at the IFC Center and uptown at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center (with the Friday and Sunday screenings to be held in the Walter Reade instead).

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on March 14th, 2013 at 12:30pm.

The Original Media Mogul: LFM Reviews Citizen Hearst

By Joe Bendel. His name has become synonymous with yellow journalism, conspicuous consumption, and raw power. The son of a self-made mining tycoon, William Randolph Hearst always fancied himself a champion of the working people and to his credit, he usually had a good sense of what they wanted to read. Director-editor-co-writer-co-producer Leslie Iwerks profiles the man and the media empire he launched in Citizen Hearst, which begins a run of special nationwide screenings this Thursday to celebrate the one hundred twenty-fifth anniversary of the Hearst empire.

As Indiewire’s Leonard Maltin observes in Citizen, Charles Foster Kane was not exactly Hearst, but it was not that far off. On the other hand, Citizen Kane’s treatment of his actress-lover Marian Davies was pretty harsh. Dropping out of the Ivy League, Hearst started his empire with the San Francisco Examiner, which his father had won as part of a gambling debt. Hearst built what had always been the shabby second fiddle to the Chronicle into the model of his brand of yellow journalism. It was a formula he expanded nationwide, eventually expanding into newsreels and early television stations. Of course, there was also San Simeon, the compulsive collecting, his mostly unsuccessful political campaigns, and his scandalous relationship with Davies.

Citizen emphasizes the up-and-down nature of Hearst’s fortunes within his lifetime. While never destitute, he was humbled at times. That is certainly good dramatic fodder, but only about a third of Iwerks’ film is dedicated to Hearst proper (and completely ignores his principled anti-Communism). The rest of the story follows the company after the death of its larger than life founder. The most fascinating post-Hearst development by far was the fate of the Examiner, a consistent voice of Hearst’s brand of populism, brought to a standstill by a violent union strike. With Examiner advertisers openly intimidated and employees attacked, the 1968 conflict led to one death. Ultimately, the Examiner would be absorbed by its old non-union rival, which in turn was absorbed back into Hearst.

At this point, Citizen Hearst essentially becomes a promotional film for the Hearst of today, celebrating its profitable business decisions, such as changing the A&E network from an arts showcase into a reality programming freak show. Sure, it made money, but what would an art collector like old man Hearst think? Still, there are some interesting conversations with Norman Foster, the architect of their new, innovatively green New York headquarters – but he has his own documentary available, How Much Does Your Building Weigh, Mr. Foster for those intrigued by his geodesic style.

Beyond Maltin, Citizen Hearst talks with many of the Hearsts still involved in the family business. Dan Rather also appears, presumably representing contemporary disgraced/facts-optional yellow journalists. Iwerks even gets celebrity assists from frequent Hearst cover model Heidi Klum and Oprah Winfrey, a television host who once had an afternoon show that was very popular but has since largely disappeared from view. Indeed, the final third of the documentary has the tone of an E! network special.

Hearst, the self-styled progressive, would likely approve of most of the media conglomerate bearing his name today. However, the further Citizen Hearst strays from the enigmatic title figure, the less interesting it will be to non-Hearst employees. Though there is good stuff in the first hour, it is probably best saved for subsequent home viewing. For those soon interviewing with a Hearst division, it screens this Thursday (3/14) in New York at the Clearview Chelsea and 1st & 62nd Street Theatres.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on March 12th, 2013 at 10:09am.

Crime and Angst in Germany: LFM Reviews The Silence

From "The Silence."

By Joe Bendel. For cops, déjà vu can be extremely unpleasant. When thirteen year old Sinikka is found brutally murdered in the exact same spot and on the exact same date as young Pia was twenty-three years earlier, it obviously means something. Unfortunately, since the previous case remains unsolved, the police have no prime suspect, but there is plenty of guilt, grief, and general angst to go around in Baran bo Odar’s The Silence (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Unlike the German police, viewers know right from the start who the killers are, because Silence shows us almost immediately. It was two socially awkward men drawn together by their sick desires. One actually did the deed, while the other cowered in the car, disappearing shortly thereafter. Newly retired detective Krischan Mittich never came close to catching either of them. Of course, when the new victim is discovered he wants back on the case.

Mittich the bridge-burner is not exactly welcomed back by the new boss. Only his former colleague David Jahn finds time for him. Frankly, the rumpled cop probably never should have been involved in the investigation in the first place. Still profoundly grieving his late wife, Jahn is still a basket case, who just happened to answer the call on his first day back. Yet, like most grungy looking detectives, his intuition is quite keen.

While not exactly a whodunit, the nature of the game played in Silence is a mystery Baran bo Odar lets unfold slowly but sure-footedly. Indeed, viewers might very well have pitched debates whether the ending represents justice or not. Regardless, it is certainly distinctive and light years removed from anything Hollywood would countenance.

From "The Silence."

Sebastian Blomberg is remarkably forceful as Jahn, but never showy. He is clearly coming apart at the seams, but in a restrained, even repressed way. Burghart Klaussner’s Mittich is an appropriately charismatic blowhard, who looks like he was born to play an ex-cop. Yet Katrin Sass truly dominates the film as Elena Lange, the mother of the first murdered girl. Her performance is too smart and multi-layered to simply be dismissed as the film’s moral center, though she largely serves that function too. Banshee fans will also note Ulrich Thomsen (often appearing under a ridiculous wig). It is a disturbing but sophisticated turn that really gets under one’s skin down the stretch.

Silence is about as existential as crime dramas get while staying within genre. Cerebral in tone and deeply pessimistic of human nature (befitting a German film from a Swiss filmmaker, featuring a Scandinavian co-star), it is recommended for fans of ambitious, psychologically complex thrillers. It opens tomorrow (3/8) in New York at the Cinema Village.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on March 7th, 2013 at 1:02pm.

The Horror of Inconsistency: LFM Reviews The ABCs of Death

From "The ABCs of Death."

By Joe Bendel. It is more about MacGuffins than McGuffey. Twenty-six directors from around the world were invited to kill people off using successive letters of the alphabet. The results vary. Such is usually the case with anthology films, but even more so for producers Ant Timpson & Tim League’s The ABCs of Death (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York at the IFC Center.

The titles of each constituent film often act as macabre punch lines, capping off each bloody bit of business with a knowing wink. Therefore, to refer to many films by name would often be spoilery. Fortunately, they all come conveniently lettered for easy reference. Nacho Vigalondo’s “A” is a perfect example of an ironic reveal. While not nearly as inventive as Timecrimes or Extraterrestrial it offers some clever black comedy to kick things off.

There are some notable highlights, including Thomas Cappelen Malling’s “H,” which has to be one of the darnedest WWII films ever. It also helps rehabilitate the old “Keep Calm, Carry On” slogan after the recent Amazon kerfuffle. Noburo Iguchi’s “F” is an apocalyptic Yuri epic that should appeal to a wide range of fetishists. Marcel Sarmiento earns major style points for the visually dynamic genre-warping “D.” Perhaps the biggest twist is the one applied to old school exploitation in Jake West’s “S.” While not exactly classic, Yûdai Yamaguchi plays the premise of Hara-Kiri for laughs, succeeding to an extent with “J.”

Yet, there are considerably more misfires and head-scratchers than minor masterworks in ABC. Jorge Michel Grau’s “I” is a short, nasty bit of cruelty. Ti West’s slight “M” might be the biggest disappointment, covering similar ground as several other letters, but with far less plot or characterization. Yet the film saves the worst for last with Yoshihiro Nishimura’s “Z,” an incomprehensible mess, aside from the irredeemably offensive misuse of 9-11 imagery.

At least many of the worse entries are also the shortest. Here’s the speed-dating run-down on all twenty six: Continue reading The Horror of Inconsistency: LFM Reviews The ABCs of Death

LFM Reviews Don’t Stop Believin’: Everyman’s Journey

By Joe Bendel. What is the ratio of jobs lost to positions gained from tweets or any other internet postings? It must be astronomically negative. Arnel Pineda is the exception. Based on performance clips uploaded to YouTube, he would find himself trying out for the biggest prospective gig of his career: filling Steve Perry’s shoes as the lead singer of Journey. Ramona S. Diaz documents a true rock & roll Horatio Alger story in Don’t Stop Believin’: Everyman’s Journey, which opens this Friday in New York.

Pineda was a Filipino bar singer, barely eking out a subsistence living. He had one super-fan posting videos to YouTube. Scouring the internet for a new vocalist, Journey lead guitarist Neal Schon stumbled across Pineda’s covers and fell out of his chair. The other band members could hear what he was talking about, but were a little skeptical of going so far out of the box. Nonetheless, they arranged to bring a flabbergasted Pineda over for an audition.

Presumably, a documentary about how a scuffling singer from the streets of Manila failed his audition for the big time would not get much distribution or festival play, so it is safe to assume Pineda overcomes his initial jitters and earns his shot in the band. Diaz follows the newly reconstructed Journey as they spend their first year on the road together. She had “rockstar” access right from the start, capturing the entire audition process, Pineda’s debut concert, and the wear and tear of a punishing tour schedule.

While Believin’ is all about Pineda’s rags-to-riches story, it is a pretty effective infomercial for Journey, as well. Evidently they started out as an early jam-band, but became more radio friendly to placate their label. It worked. Viewers who are not diehard fans of the stadium-rockers will be surprised by how many recognizable songs are heard throughout their sets. It is more than just the title song, which Diaz shrewdly holds in reserve for the big climatic payoff.

Naturally, the focus is on Pineda and his family, but founding-member Schon also gets his due and considerable camera time as Pineda’s biggest booster and a rock & roll survivor in his own right. And audiences can tell they have real chemistry on-stage.If their band-mates do not get as much attention in the doc, they are still reaping the rewards of a rejuvenated Journey, at least according to Billboard’s figures, ranking them at #12 on the 2012 moneymaking chart, right ahead of Elton John and Katy Perry. The way they have also embraced their legions of new Filipino fans is also a cool subplot.

It is impossible to resist Pineda’s feel-good story, especially when you see the impoverished neighborhoods where he once lived. It might be predictable, but is immensely satisfying. A rare happy look “Behind the Music,” recommended both for the band’s Baby-Boomer fan base and the Facebook generation that will more likely identify with Pineda, Don’t Stop Believin’ opens this Friday (3/8) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on March 5th, 2013 at 12:13pm.

LFM Reviews Day of the Crows @ The 2013 New York International Children’s Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. He is a real wild child. His mother is an animal spirit and his father is a mountain man, bordering on a Neanderthal. His socialization has been lacking, but his world is about to expand in Jean-Christophe Dessaint’s animated feature Day of the Crows, which screens during the 2013 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

“Son” is the only name the Gollum-ish looking boy has ever known, but his gruff father does not use it particularly lovingly. At least his dearly departed mother often consoles him, appearing as a mute deer incarnate. When disaster strikes, the other woodland spirits encourage the boy to drag his comatose father into the forbidden village for medical assistance.

It seems many in town remember his father, surname Pumpkin (first name Rupert, perhaps?), and none too fondly. Fortunately, the kindly doctor will not let gossips stand in his way of treating a patient. His young daughter Manon also makes quite the impression on Pumpkin, fils. Naturally, when old man Pumpkin finally wakes up, he is not happy to be back in civilization. As soon as he is back on his feet, he drags the boy back to the forest. Things are back as they were, except Pumpkin, père is even worse than before.

Crows holds the distinction of being the final screen credit of the great Hitchcockian director Claude Chabrol, who gives voice to the good doctor’s warmth and humanity. Refreshingly old school, the film has an endearing hand-drawn look and a beautiful orchestral score composed by Simon Leclerc. Is it also wildly sentimental and slightly New Agey? But, of course. Still, Amandine Taffin’s screenplay (adapted from the novel by Jean-François Beauchemin) clearly suggests the forest might be all very pleasant to visit, but probably is not the best environment to raise an impressionable child. In fact, Crows portrays nature as both a force of beauty and danger in equal measure.

With its striking backdrops and the charming work of Chabrol (astute ears will also recognize Jean Reno grunting and bellowing as old Pumpkin), Crows has enough to satisfy most animation fans. Its themes of forgiveness and compassion are rather touching, as well. At times it appears poised to lambaste the local military garrison (who certainly look French, even if Crows avoids national specifics), but to its credit, the film veers off before getting too didactic.

There really are crows too, but in case viewers start to wonder, they really do not arrive in force until the third act. Recommended for viewers young enough to identify with the junior Pumpkin, but old enough to handle intense scenes of natural ferociousness and problematic parenting, Day of the Crows screens this Sunday (3/10) at the Alliance Française as part of this year’s NYICFF.

LFM GRADE: B+

Posted on March 5th, 2013 at 12:11pm.