John Guare’s Separation Anxiety: LFM Reviews 3 Kinds of Exile

By Joe Bendel. It is an insidious tool used to control dissent, yet sometimes it comes as a relief. Whether voluntary or forced, separation from one’s homeland is a difficult proposition to face. Playwright John Guare explores the phenomenon in his new theatrical hybrid triptych, 3 Kinds of Exile, which officially opened this week at the Atlantic Theater Company’s Linda Gross Theater.

Exile’s first segment, Karel, quickly establishes the minimalist tone through a brief but captivating monologue. An unnamed actor relates the experiences of his friend, a former kindertransport refugee. Despite the success he found as an adult, the first exile’s guilt eventually manifests itself in a rather macabre fashion. While the Kafka influence here is inescapable, it is still an intriguing tale. Martin Moran (who has appeared in several of his own one-man shows) tells it with confidence, nicely conveying the drama and angst of his friend’s situation as a second-hand reporter.

The middle piece of Exile will likely generate the most attention in the theater world, because it represents the first time the playwright has performed in his own play. In fact, Elzbieta Erased is all about stage and screen history, telling the mostly sad history of Elzbieta Czyzewska. Once one of Poland’s most acclaimed thespians, Czyzewska marriage to American journalist David Halberstam directly led to her exile and a sometimes brilliant but decidedly erratic career Off-Broadway, well before Off-Broadway was cool.

Essentially, Erased is a dramatic A-V presentation adapted from a previous Guare one-act, featuring the writer and Polish actor Omar Sangare detailing the trials and tribulations of Czyzewska’s life. However, it takes on unexpectedly heavy significance when both men start to reveal their connections to Czyzewska. In fact, it is hard to imagine a production of Exile without them. Sangare is an electric stage presence and Guare is the veritable personification of erudite sophistication. Hearing their tribute to Czyzewska is completely absorbing and genuinely moving, even with the pseudo-lecture hall staging.

Exile ends with a spot of musical theater, albeit of a somewhat absurdist variety. Inspired by his work, Funiage turns the spotlight on the Polish novelist Witold Gombrowicz. Not particularly well regarded at home, Gombrowicz accepts an offer to lecture Argentina’s Polish expatriate community on the greatness of proper Polish literature, on the eve of World War II. The expats did not think much of him either, but at least there were women to carouse with on the ship.

From "3 Kinds of Exile."

Ironically, Funiage is the most upbeat segment of Exile, even though it deliberately echoes Weil & Brecht’s productions. Indeed, Gombrowicz is an attractive figure, who was evidently largely satisfied working as a Buenos Aires bank clerk by day and writing in relative obscurity at night. David Pittu (who played Brecht in the Broadway musical LoveMusic) is wildly charismatic as Gombrowicz, while also expressing a sad, world weary earnestness.

Of course, Guare is best known as the writer of Six Degrees of Separation, which factors prominently in Elzbieta Erased3 Kinds of Exile is more avant-garde in form than his signature work, but the stories are still easily accessible and immediately engaging. There are some deep truths in each piece, as well as several dynamic performances.  Recommended for slightly adventurous patrons, it runs through June 23rd at the Linda Gross Theater.

Posted on June 13th, 2013 at 3:49pm.

Heads Up: LFM Reviews The Guillotines

By Joe Bendel. Widely feared for their decapitation weapons, the Guillotines consider themselves the Emperor’s A-team for sensitive missions. Unfortunately, they find out they are simply expendable crewmen in Andrew Lau’s The Guillotines, which opens this Friday in New York.

Wolf is the ironically named leader of the rebellious shepherd gang, who seems to think his fate is connected to that of Leng, the Guillotines’ trusted squad leader. With Wolf imprisoned and scheduled for execution, Leng pays little heed to his captive’s mumbo jumbo. Unfortunately, a daring rescue operation frees Wolf, in the process taking prisoner Musen, their comrade and daughter of their revered commander.

Obviously, this is a black eye for the Guillotines, but it gets worse. The emperor has decided to sacrifice the Guillotines on an ostensive clean-up mission. As it happens, Leng is well acquainted with the man charged with his team’s destruction. He and Agent Du were recruited as young children to faithfully serve the emperor. While Du remains unswervingly committed to the royal sovereign, Leng feels a stronger kinship with his team. Ironically, he finds temporary shelter with his old nemesis, Wolf.

Considering the wicked, Krull-like weapons sported by the Guillotines, this pseudo-Shaw Brothers remake is surprisingly stingy with the martial arts throwdowns. Frustratingly, most of the action consists of large set piece massacres of Wolf’s ragtag contingent, which are really not much fun at all.

Indeed, The Guillotines follows in a long line of historical dramas that not so subtly suggest a strong centralizing authority is in the national interest because it provides stability. Of course, this is an attractive argument if you happen to be part of that centralized power structure. Still, the film incorporates the traditional Han and Manchu conflict in intriguing ways.

As Leng and Du, Ethan Juan and Shawn Yue develop a nice Cain-and-Abel tension, while Li Yuchun convincingly renders Musen’s awakening of conscience. In contrast, the rest of the Guillotines, though introduced individually in the cool credit sequence, are not meaningfully delineated as characters.

Frankly, there are just too many scenes of terrified peasants fleeing the Imperial war machine, followed-up with precious little payoff. It is a quality period production, but there is too much message and not enough old school entertainment. A disappointment for martial arts fans, The Guillotines opens this Friday (6/14) in New York at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: D+

Posted on June 13th, 2013 at 3:48pm.

Focusing on Women’s Rights: LFM Reviews Camera/Woman @ The 2013 Human Rights Watch Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. In Morocco, men are rigidly patriarchal and domineering of woman, yet they often expect their wives and sisters to provide for them. That is a nasty catch-22 to reconcile. The divorced Khadija does her best as a wedding videographer, but it is never good enough for her freeloading family. Karima Zoubir documents her daily grind in Camera/Woman, an Al Jazeera co-production screening as part of the 2013 Human Rights Watch Film Festival.

Morocco is a man’s world, but women like Khadija do all the house work and evidently pay most of the bills. After her divorce, she and her young son moved back in with her parents and her lazy brothers. At least her mother does some cooking. The rest of the family seems incapable of doing anything besides passing judgment on her. Yet it is her jobs videotaping weddings (where everyone looks happy except the brides) and circumcision ceremonies that pays their rent. Unfortunately, that means she must work evening hours, which essentially makes her a prostitute in the eyes of her brother Abdel. Why, he can barely find the magnanimity to gorge on the food she buys.

Eventually, Khadija’s conflict with her family reaches a critical point, remaining unresolved when Zoubir’s film ends. If she made good on her promise to cut them off financially, there is an excellent chance they have all starved to death since then.

From "Camera/Woman."

Yes, C/W is brought to you in part by Al Jazeera and, no, the film never digs too deeply into the socio-religious institutions responsible for the rampant sexism and exploitation Khadija and her fellow divorcees endure. Still, the women mince no words, decrying: “In our society there’s no mercy. It’s ruthless.” Likewise, it is clearly a disastrous Ramadan celebration when the family resentments come to a head.

C/W is far from a perfect film. Khadija’s friends are not well established and most of her family is understandably camera shy. Nonetheless, it vividly illustrates the misogynist nature of traditional Islamist society. Camera/Woman is the sort of film that instills outrage and a feeling of helplessness in viewers. Presented on a double bill with Going Up the Stairs, it makes a convincing case women’s rights are several millennia behind the times in the Middle East. One of a handful of eye-opening selections at this year’s HRW Film Fest, Camera/Woman screens this coming Sunday (6/16) at the IFC Center and the following Tuesday (6/18) at the Francesca Beale Theater.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on June 12th, 2013 at 12:50pm.

A Woman’s Art in Iran: LFM Reviews Going Up the Stairs @ The 2013 Human Rights Watch Film Festival

By Joe Bendel. Any women creating art in today’s Iran could be classified as an “Outsider Artist,” because you just cannot get anymore “outside” than a woman trying to express herself artistically in the Islamist state. The devout Akram Sartakhti apparently has no interest in political subject matter, but she still must navigate the institutionalized misogyny. Rokhsareh Ghaem Maghami documents her work and complicated domestic life in Going Up the Stairs: a Portrait of an Unlikely Iranian Artist, which screens during the 2013 Human Rights Watch Film Festival.

At the age of nine, Sartakhti was married off the Heider Rahimi, a colleague of her father’s, who was seventeen years her senior. When the Shah was scheduled to visit her school, Sartkhti and her classmates were told to leave their headscarves at home. Instead, she dropped out before learning how to read. For years, she lived in fear of her domineering husband, but as they advanced in age, her comparative youth somewhat turned the tables. Late in life, she turned the second floor of their townhouse into a studio.

However, Iranian law grants husbands ironclad control over their wives. Throughout Stairs, Sartakhti is worried Rahimi will refuse her permission to travel to Paris, where her grown children have organized an exhibition of her work, as an arbitrary means of asserting his power.

From "Going Up the Stairs."

Sartakhti’s paintings clearly fit within the Outsider rubric. While nowhere near as polished or sophisticated as Iran Darroudi’s surreal landscapes, her surprisingly large canvasses show an intriguing sense of composition and a striking use of color. They are worth seeing, but of course public exhibition will always be a tricky proposition for any woman artist under the current regime.

Serving as her own camera crew, Maghami obviously earned the trust of the artist and her husband. Still, one wonders what happened after she left. Frankly, there is often a pronounced disconnect between the on-screen calm captured on film and the bitter stories Sartakhti tells of the early years of her arranged marriage. Many people will take Stairs as proof that arranged spouses can always grow to love each other, but at what cost? Maghami’s doc is rather ambiguous on this question.

Nevertheless, the fifty-one minute Stairs pretty clearly establishes the mandated gender inequalities of today’s Iran and how they severely hinder even a staunchly traditional woman like Sartakhti. An interesting portrait of an artist marginalized simply because she is a woman, Going Up the Stairs is one of the stronger selections of this year’s Human Rights Watch Fest. It screens on a double bill with Camera/Woman this coming Sunday (6/16) at the IFC Center and the following Tuesday (6/18) at the Francesca Beale Theater.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on June 11th, 2013 at 3:20pm.

Giallo Madness: LFM Reviews Berberian Sound Studio

By Joe Bendel. This might be the most anti-horror movie genre freak-out, perhaps ever. Do not tell the hapless sound engineer in question he is just working on a movie, or that the violent images he sees are no big deal. The vintage-era Italian giallo will profoundly disturb the nebbish Brit throughout Peter Strickland’s Berberian Sound Studio, which opens this Friday in New York.

Poor Gilderoy assumed he had been hired to engineer the sort of nature documentary that has been his specialty. Unfortunately, The Equestrian Vortex is anything but. This will be the latest gore fest from the notorious giallo auteur, Santini (who does that name remind you of?). The film opens with a girl on a horse, but she will soon find herself in a bacchanal of witchcraft and graphic, sexually charged violence. Gilderoy is not prepared for this material, but nobody refuses Santini.

Right from the start, Santini and the staff of the grimy 1970’s sound studio torment Gilderoy with mind games. The engineer’s mental and emotional health quickly deteriorates as he records the smashing pumpkins and other foley effects that accompany the on-screen tortures. On the plus side, there are elegant Mediterranean bombshells coming in out of the studio to record their screams, but only Silvia, the fading starlet, shows him any kindness. Of course, she is no match for the notorious Santini, or his Mephistophelean producer Francesco.

The fresh produce sacrificed to make Berberian could have made a month of salads for the Italian army, but it all has the desired impact. In a more just world, Berberian should be an Oscar shoe-in for the sound categories. However, the Academy will probably be far too uncomfortable with the film’s premise and implications.

Indeed, Berberian is unusually forthright questioning the cumulative impact of desensitizing imagery, far surpassing Cronenberg’s somewhat thematically related Videodrome. Shrewdly, Strickland never shows the audience the Equestrian horrors slowly boring their way into Gilderoy’s brain. It is far more unsettling to hear them take shape in the studio and to watch the engineer’s pained responses. This is an artfully creepy film that skillfully builds the claustrophobic tension, up until the third act collapses into surreal reality-problematizing bedlam.

Who knew Toby Jones had this in him? As Gilderoy, he quietly but rather spectacularly portrays a shy, reserved man coming apart at the seams, in a marked departure from his supercilious type-casting. As his polar opposite, Cosimo Fusco’s Francesco is a malevolent sleazebag worthy of the giallo tradition.

Yet, the real stars of Berberian are the technical crew who so perfectly recreate the look, sound, and general vibe of the genre. Listening to Broadcast’s original score, one could easily believe it came off a rare vinyl soundtrack (that’s a good thing). Similarly, production designer Jennifer Kernke’s painstaking attention to period detail makes the analog studio feel like a truly real (and really awful) place to work.

This is a superior midnight-genre film that might just challenge regular midnight-genre patrons. Oddly enough, it also happens to be one of the year’s best period productions. Highly recommended for open-minded cult movie fans, Berberian Sound Studio opens this Friday (6/14) at the IFC Center.

LFM GRADE: A

Posted on June 11th, 2013 at 3:19pm.

LFM Reviews House of Good and Evil @ The 2013 Dances With Films

By Joe Bendel. It is a remote fixer-upper with no power or phone lines. The spacious duplex sounds perfect for a young couple hoping to heal their troubled relationship. They will take it, once the realtor duly shows them the remnant of the Indian burial ground and the stake where they used to burn the witches. It is cheap, and best of all, the second unit already has tenants: the wildly anti-social, old Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. Unfortunately, their new surroundings do not have the desired effect in David Mun’s House of Good and Evil (trailer here), which screened as part of this year’s Dances With Films.

Chris Conley has trouble with booze and his temper. When his wife Maggie miscarries, it is his fault. To make it up to her, he buys her a new house in the middle of nowhere. Cell service is spotty out there and the lines go down so often the utilities quit repairing them. However, there is a lovely generator out back. Immediately after moving in, she starts hearing a phone ringing from the Andersons’ side of the house. Of course, her husband just assumes she is being a hysterical woman and promptly disappears for his forest firefighter training.

Strange things start to happen around the creaky old house, but it is the sound of the ringing phone and Mrs. Anderson’s weird conversations (that sound a lot like the old “Shut Up Little Man” recordings) that really get to her. Eventually, she becomes rather preoccupied with her unseen neighbors.

What really distinguishes House from the indie horror pack is the mournful vibe Mun achieves. One gets a powerful sense things would not be right between the Conleys even if they had moved into a “House of Just Plain Good.” Sensitively lensed by Jared Noe and nicely enhanced by Mickey Ray’s detailed sets, House has an unusually strong sense of mise-en-scène compared to the genre standard. The problem is the screenplay. Anyone with a few midnight movies under their belt will predict the ‘third act-Shyamalan’ well before it drops.

From "House of Good and Evil."

Still, Rachel Marie Lewis soldiers on quite compellingly as Maggie Conley and Saved by the Bell refugee Christian Oliver is actually not bad as her frustrated and frustrating husband. Some of their scenes together have real bite. Unfortunately, we know where it is all going, even if they do not.

House should work well as a show reel for Mun, his co-leads, and his technical collaborators. Audiences will recognize considerable talent went into it, even though the sum of its parts is greater than its whole. A passable outing for genre diehards looking for something that has not been talked to death on fan sites, House of Good and Evil concluded the 16th Dances With Films.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on June 11th, 2013 at 3:18pm.