Month: January 2014

By Joe Bendel. Teenagers and zombies both have bad skin and smell like feet. However, the similarities end with the risen dead’s affinity for smooth jazz. At least, that is how the zombie apocalypse rolls in Jeff Baena’s Life After Beth, which screened during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Zach Orfman was always inclined to be mopey, but the death of his out-of-his-league girlfriend Beth Slocum really has him down. He is especially anguished because their final awkward days of couplehood teetered on the brink of splitsville. Seeking comfort in proximity, Orfman starts spending time with Slocum’s parents, Maury and Geenie, who also seem to take consolation from his presence. Then one day they freeze him out and close off their entire house to the outside world.

Eventually, Orfman discovers they are harboring the “resurrected” Slocum, who has no memories of her fatal hiking misadventure. The Slocums are determined to keep it that way. They allow Orfman to renew their relationship, but insist he never tell her about her death or share the happy news with the rest of the world. It is all good for a few days, until certain changes start manifesting in Slocum. For instance, her skin is drier and her behavior is more aggressive. We also get hints she might not be the only zombie who came back.

Writer-director Baena dexterously keeps the zombie apocalypse lurking just outside our field of vision, focusing instead on the increasingly problematic relationship between Orfman and Slocum. He also stays true to the logical necessities of zombie movies in the redemptive third act climax. However, the humor in After definitely leans toward the mild chuckle end of the spectrum.

Aubrey Plaza is the perfect choice for Slocum, jumping into the undead teenager angst and zombie gore with both feet. In contrast, Dane DeHaan’s Orfman is a leaden presence, stuck on moody brooding throughout the film. He might be convincingly nebbish, but it is impossible to believe someone with this kind of dead fish charisma could attract the reasonably popular Slocum. While Paul Reiser (his second dad role in a Sundance film this year) and Cheryl Hines are largely wasted as Orfman’s parents, John C. Reilly’s shtick suits Maury Slocum rather well.

Life After Beth is pleasant enough, but it is quite like scores of previous teenager horror mash-ups thematically and stylistically. While it earns originality points down the stretch, Plaza and Reilly could have used some help carrying it to that point. Tightly executed but low in calories, Life After Beth only served as a light snack for genre fans when it screened as a selection of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: C+

Posted on January 27th, 2014 at 3:43pm.

By Joe Bendel. Jazz musicians have families like anybody else. Some even produce musical dynasties, like the Marsalises and the O’Farrills. For many, though, the inconsistent nature of gigging is a stressful fact of jazz family life. Heroin addiction adds a further destabilizing element. Amy Albany understands this all too well. Her memoir tells a stark tale of drug abuse, bebop, and paternal love. Jazz pianist and former Charlie Parker sideman Joe Albany’s chaotic parenting gets the biopic treatment in Jeff Preiss’s Low Life, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Tragically, Joe Albany was arguably the more responsible of Amy Albany’s parents, but that is not saying a lot. While Amy Albany’s absentee alcoholic mother only fleetingly appears in her life, Joe makes a good faith effort at fatherhood. Sadly, Hollywood in the early 1970’s is a tough scene for working jazz musicians, but it is easy to score junk there.

Clearly, Joe Albany had a good rapport with his daughter, but he was enslaved to his habits. Right from the start, a pattern emerges. Resolving to do right by his daughter and parole officer, Albany will clean up, accepting gigs beneath his stature for the sake of his family commitments. Yet, his inevitable benders consistently undo all his good intentions. During these periods, Amy Albany moves back in with her gruff but eternally patient grandmother.

Having served as the cinematographer of Bruce Weber’s Chet Baker documentary, Let’s Get Lost, Preiss is no stranger to the effects of long term heroin use—but he has nothing on Amy Albany, who co-adapted her book for the big screen. It is not pretty in either film. However, Albany’s source memoir is even more harrowing in its depiction of drug use. Still, the wreckage wrought by Albany’s addiction is all too believable and realistic on-screen.

Right, so this is not exactly happy stuff, but John Hawkes’ performance as Joe Albany is quite remarkable. He perfectly captures the cadences and mannerisms of a dissipated musician and looks comfortable enough behind the piano. It is painful witnessing his long, slow process of self-destruction, precisely because he so vividly brings out the more edifying aspects of Albany’s personality. Playing a bit against type, Glenn Close is rather earthy and compelling as his tough, working-class mother. Lena Headey also makes a strong impression in her brief scenes as Sheila Albany. Unfortunately, Elle Fanning is too bland and retiring as the teenaged Albany.

Low Down is a quality period production that painstakingly recreates the desperate seediness of Hollywood in the 1970’s. It might be hard to watch, but it sounds great, thanks to extensive archival recordings from Albany and his contemporaries, as well as some original jazz themes composed and recorded by Ohad Talmor. Depressing but well intentioned and deeply humanistic, Low Life is recommended for bebop fans when it screens again today (1/24) in Park City, as well as this Sunday (1/25) at Sundance Resort, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on January 24th, 2014 at 5:30pm.

By Joe Bendel. For most baseball fans, Dock Ellis is best known as the man who won the 1976 AL Comeback Player of the Year and helped pitch the New York Yankees into that year’s World Series. It is a perfect example of how a great team can rejuvenate veteran players. There are also those who remember him for throwing a no-hitter while under the influence of LSD. Jeffrey Radice profiles Ellis’s colorful career and meaningful post-baseball life in No No: a Dockumentary, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Radice openly evokes Superfly and other blaxploitation films when chronicling Ellis’s early seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates. Ellis liked to dress sharp, but he was not inclined to take guff off anyone. However, he was far less confident beneath his bluster, which is why he regularly took some narcotic courage before starting a game.

While our Yankee chauvinism might sound like an exaggerated put-on, the late Ellis might not have objected. While he was happy to notch the no-no career milestone, many of Dockumentary’s talking heads suggest Ellis was uncomfortable with all the sophomoric jokey attention focused on the LSD part of the story. After all, some of the most compelling sequences follow Ellis’s drug-fueled implosion and his subsequent comeback as an addiction counselor.

Radice talks to a number of Ellis’s former teammates, family members, and ex-wives, compiling a pretty thorough composite of his subject. He maintains a brisk pace, while Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz’s score and the funky licensed tracks evoke the 1970’s vibe quite distinctively. Ellis’s story also raises several topical issues, such as drug use, domestic abuse, and the state of post-Jackie Robinson racial relations in Major League Baseball. Radice gives them all their proper due, but never strays too far from the baselines. Frankly, he gets the mix of social relevancy and retro attitude just right. Highly watchable, No No: a Dockumentary is recommended for audiences beyond the obvious ESPN market. It screens again in Park City today (1/24) and tomorrow (1/25) as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B

Posted on January 24th, 2014 at 5:27pm.

By Joe Bendel. A good conversation should be like jazz: a little call and response, plenty of riffing, and everyone gets a chance to make their solo statement. Two estranged friends will try to talk out their complicated history amidst the soulful sounds of a jazz club in John Harkrider’s docu-hybrid-hybrid All the Beautiful Things, which screens during the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.

Harkrider grew up on the wrong side of the tracks before making good as a Wall Street attorney, eventually segueing into the lucrative world of independent filmmaking. His friend Barron Claibourne is a successful photographer who happens to be African American. Issues of race and class will haunt their discussion, particularly when it turns into an argument.

It all revolves around a woman, but ironically neither man was particularly interested in her romantically. Harkrider never had the desire or the opportunity to leave the friend zone. However, the woman in question had eyes for Claibourne and acted on her impulses. He did not really reciprocate her interest, but he slept with her anyway, thinking little of it. Needless to say, things turned rather ugly, leaving Harkrider caught in the middle.

Presumably, whether you think Harkrider did right enough by Claibourne depends on which man you instinctively identify with. Yet, the stunning African American bartender acting as a neutral referee seems to lean towards Harkrider’s side of things. Of course, this could also be a function of gender identification, with respects to the unseen woman. While the inherent drama is obvious, it is highly debatable whether the legal events surrounding the Harkrider-Claibourne feud merit the feature documentary treatment. Nevertheless, the democratic ethos of jazz argues everyone deserves a chance to have their say.

Indeed, the better show is probably happening on the bandstand, where trumpeter Jeremy Pelt’s quartet will perform John Coltrane’s A Love Supreme in its entirety. It is an impressive interpretation that adds spiritual gravitas to the two friends’ bickering and bantering.

Essentially, ATBT was outlined but not scripted, introducing substantial improvisation into the mix. Believe it or not, this approach sort of works. Harkrider has an acerbic wit, often making hip pop culture references, whereas the more blunt-spoken Claibourne has a knack for cutting to essence of each issue. Still, their purported insights into race and class do not readily suggest wider universal truths, reflecting more specific circumstances instead.

It might be talky, but ATBT is an unusually stylish film, thanks to Pelt’s music (definitely including his Coltrane cover as well as some original themes), Brian O’Carroll’s evocative neon nocturnal cinematography, and Matthew Woodson’s viscerally powerful black-and-white illustrations (used in lieu of recreated flashbacks). Arguably, there is enough substance in the two frienemies’ verbal parrying to keep viewers reasonably invested, but the male-centric gabfest is likely to be divisive among audiences. Regardless, the visual and audio trappings are quite a rich feast. Recommended for viewers receptive to a jazz-noir version of My Dinner with Andre, All the Beautiful Things screens again in Park City today (1/24) and tomorrow (1/25) as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

LFM GRADE: B-

Posted on January 24th, 2014 at 5:23pm.