Usually, the words ‘gourmet’ and ‘British food’ don’t end up in sentences even remotely near each other, so the idea of a restaurant like Waterloo + City is potentially abhorrent to those who are unable to conceive of it. Andreanna and I joined another couple, also foodies, to give it a taste…
*I haven’t done one of these since February ‘09. I may have to get back into the habit.
Sixty-something days after the damn thing ended, I’m finally getting around to throwing some thoughts together about Fantastic Fest 2011. This is because (a) I miss Austin, (b) I finally found the keys to my Tumblr account (they fell behind the sofa!), and (c) in a few weeks I’m going to do my annual fourth annual 10 Movies Released Last Year I Really Liked post (TM Liz Shannon Miller) and it’s going to feel a wee bit redundant. (Years 2008, 2009 and 2010 here.)
So without further ado and in no particular order…
Take Shelter (in theaters now) may not be the best film of the year but it is the one that best captures the year’s zeitgeist. If a century from now our children’s children’s children want to know what 2011 felt like, they need look no further than this movie. Curtis (played by a mesmerizing Michael Shannon) has the American dream - a lovely wife (played by the equally great Jessica Chastain), a deaf but happy young daughter, a reliable blue collar construction job and a modest home of his own. But it all starts to slip through his fingers when Curtis is visited by apocalyptic visions that may predict real disaster or may just be symptoms of mental illness. Economic anxiety, mental breakdown, natural disaster, and biblical apocalypse add up to a horror film unlike any other.
Livid (opens December 7…in France, no US distribution yet) is one that disappointed many but pleased me. Fans of filmmakers Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury’s first film, Inside, were no doubt expecting something visceral and violent. Instead, they got an atmospheric dark fable that feels like a Gallic Guillermo del Toro. Calibrate your expectations accordingly and you too might dig this entirely new take on the haunted house genre, notable for its stunning visuals and strong female characters.
Headhunters (no US release date, but Summit is working on a remake) is a tense heist movie, a violent cat-and-mouse thriller, a surprisingly touching romance, a social-political satire and, best of all, a damn entertaining ride. Aksel is top-level executive recruiter by day and an art thief by night, damn good at both. He has to be in order to afford the lavish lifestyle he needs to keep his tall, supermodel-gorgeous wife happy. Aksel’s world is turned upside-down when he runs afoul of a ruthless executive (played by Game of Throne’s Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) with a violent past and a hidden agenda.
Juan of the Dead (unreleased and as yet unauthorized by the Cuban film board) was the happiest surprise of FF2011. I found myself in the midnight screening more by default than active choice, only to discover a really smart, truly subversive, uniquely Cuban and wholly successful take on the zombie/horror/comedy genre. Fingers crossed that this one reaches more than just the festival circuit.
Those four were my favorites. There were others, both good (A Lonely Place to Die, Penumbra, Kill Me Please, several good shorts) and not as good (The Corridor, Last Screening, Two Eyes Staring). But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention The Human Centipede Two (Full Sequence). Did I like it? Let’s just say I appreciated it. If you enjoyed the first one but wish it had gone further, this is the film for you. If the very idea of the first one was enough to make you ill, avoid this at all costs. You have been warned.
Three other films that would have easily made this list except that I saw them before or after Austin were Pedro Almodovar’s unsettlingThe Skin I Live In, Lars von Trier’s audacious Melancholia and Ti West’sThe Innkeepers. West’s bait-and-switch workplace comedy has grown on me over time: though I still think it’s a flawed film, I really like what West is trying to do with the genre. The last ten minutes were as terrifying as any horror film I’ve seen all year.
Of course, one could make a pretty compelling “best of” list out of the movies I didn’t see but still want to: A Boy and His Samurai, Extraterrestrial, Sleep Tight, We Need to Talk About Kevin, and You’re Next.
All in all, the mix of films I saw was not as spectacular as FF2010 but still engaging enough to make me eager to return for FF2012.
Better Late Than Never: Favorites from FF 2010 and SXSW 2011
As promised about an hour ago, here are five of my favorites from my previous two trips to Austin for film festivals:
FANTASTIC FEST 2010
Stake Land (available on DVD), a road movie about a makeshift group trying to survive in a post-vampire apocalypse America. If you like The Walking Dead, you’ll like this.
Undocumented (now on IFC On Demand, finally), a truly scary portrait of a group of ultra “patriots” out to stop illegal immigration by any means necessary, as seen by a group of do-gooder documentarians who lose control of their movie.
Rubber (out on DVD), the fourth-wall bashing tale of a homicidal car tire. I still have no idea how the director got a Buster Keaton-style deadpan comedy performance out of an intimate object. Wholly original, totally riveting filmmaking.
SXSW 2011
Xavier Gens’ The Divide (coming eventually), in which a group of ordinary city dwellers turn into predators and prey when trapped together in a bunker following a 9-11 style attack. Not for the faint of heart.
Kill LIst (coming eventually), which starts out as a kitchen sink dysfunctional family drama, turns into an assassin buddy road movie, and then takes a sharp turn towards the uncanny in its final act.
There you have it, five must-see genre films. Here’s hoping I come back from Fantastic Fest 2011 with quite a few more…
The first season of AMC’s hit series, The Killing, concludes this Sunday. There’s a mystery embedded in the show that has kept me glued to the screen every week, but it sure ain’t “who killed Rosie Larsen.” The real mystery is “who killed The Killing?” Who turned a promising young series from brilliant to laughable in under 11 weeks?
Grab your umbrella, kids, because I’m about to crack this case wide open. (Spoilers ahead from the first 12 of 13 episodes.)
Things start exceptionally well. The first two hours are among the strongest series openers I’ve seen in years. The acting is good to great - especially Michelle Forbes and Brent Sexton, grieving parents trapped in a waking nightmare, barely able to go through the motions of daily life.
The format - one-mystery-per-season, one-day-per-episode - offers a respite from the 44-minute mysteries that dominate TV’s alphabet soup of procedurals (CSI, SVU, NCIS, etc.). For once, we can spend time getting to know not just police and suspects but friends, family and the extended network of people whose lives are changed by this senseless crime.
Done right, you get 13 rich hours of context and character development. Done wrong, you get a slow, rainy version of 24 where the stakes are low and everyone is bad at their jobs.
(Speaking of done right, by all means track down Karen Moncrieff’s exceptional 2006 indie, The Dead Girl, which depicts the separate stories of 5 women connected by a single murder. Here’s a trailer.
Amazing cast, too. Why is it almost no one has seen this movie?)
Where were we? Oh, right, collective incompetence. Everyone is bad at what they do. I started to write a list but it was so long it was painful. Nearly every episode is a case study of how not to do stuff: parenting, police work, teaching, being engaged, smuggling a minor, campaigning for mayor, running an FBI operation (“I think you’re trying to tamper with evidence…so let me leave you alone with that evidence”), buying your wife a house, communicating with your spouse while in jail, keeping minors out of your casino, being a billionaire douche bag, beating someone to death…and on and on. If there’s a wrong way to do something, you can count on The Killing to show it to you. Frankly, I’m shocked we haven’t seen Stan and Belko drop a box off the back of their moving truck.
I’m a Bad, Bad Teacher
Benett Ahmed, Rosie’s teacher, knows he’s the lead suspect in Rosie’s murder and knows Stan Larsen is ready to beat him to death. Yet he still carries out his plans to commit another crime, all the while acting weird around his wife and having cryptic conversations on the phone with his friend from the mosque. Is this how a sane, educated man would act?
There’s a whole character, the Lieutenant, who seems to exist solely to be terrible at his job, routinely standing between Linden and whatever it is she wants to do. He’s not much more than a plot device— the human speed bump.
In short, the key technique showrunner Veena Sud and her writers have used to stretch out the story is to make sure nobody does anything well. Leave no blind alley unvisited. Take whole episodes to muddle through misunderstandings that could have been cleared up in a two-minute conversation. It’s all pointless filler to carry us from one commercial break to the next.
So that’s half the mystery solved. But universal incompetence isn’t our only show killer. There’s an accomplice: bad planning.
Sud is on record acknowledging that she and her staff essentially made up the show as they went. Here’s a quote (courtesy of Alan Sepinwall’s excellent blog at Hitfix.com):
I had notions of scenes and moments in the final thing that would come at me in bits and pieces. As notions and thoughts and maybes. But those were maybe ways to hang ideas off of when we first started to really dive in and make it as a series. But there was a lot of surprising twists and turns. So I came in with ideas and thoughts and things - and mostly it was actually characters. So it was like, “I know 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 could all be potential murderer for all these 7 different reasons, but you know…” And the other writers too. All of us came in saying, “Let’s just follow these characters around. Let’s follow the logical progression, the story, the emotional progression and not come to a conclusion…
No. No no no no no. This is the wrong way to write a mystery. A well-crafted whodunnit starts with a great idea for a murder and works backwards from there, laying the foundation, dropping clues and red herrings along the way, challenging the reader to figure out which is which.
This is why I drink.
Instead, Sud and company made it up as they went along. Boy does it show. Every week brings an out-of-the-blue revelation about a character, without foundation or foreshadowing. Literally anyone could have killed Rosie Larsen because the writers haven’t bothered to give anyone cause, motive or opportunity through 12 episodes.
Look, spending a season on a single story may be unconventional on American television, but it’s hardly a new idea. The Wire has been rightly called “a novel for television” for the way it builds each season’s story like a great book. HBO’s Game of Thrones, which is also airing its season finale this Sunday, is literally a filmed novel and has used every minute of its screen time building a fantasy world that seems far more real than The Killing’s arbitrary cast of incompetents.
The 13-episode format is perfect for this kind of storytelling, assuming you’ve got a story worth telling. So few serious, intelligent television dramas ever get made, it’s downright criminal to waste an opportunity like this.
So what killed The Killing? Writers without a road map creating characters without a clue. But there’s hope for redemption; AMC has greenlit a second season. With any luck, the producers will learn from their mistake and not return to the scene of this crime against quality television.
Monday Night Tease’s Muppet Burlesque made me realize just exactly how perverse my childhood really was.
Seriously (seriously!), the kid-centric content of the ’70s was the product of a lot of young idealistic artists who, let’s be honest, smoked a lot of dope. The whole Jim Henson oeuvre, Free To Be You & Me, The Electric Company, H.R. Puffinstuff (!)… It made for a heady brew for a pre-teen, and I drank deeply.
(To this day, I’m pretty sure Mr. Greenjeans was a pot farmer and Captain Kangaroo a dope dealer. OPEN YOUR EYES people, the signs are all there…!)
Fast forward to the late ’80s and the Reagan-era deregulation of TV that gutted the educational requirements for TV licenses, paving the way for kids show that were little more than 30-minute toy ads. Capitalism licked its chops over a new market of captive kids parked in front of Nickelodeon all day, and sucked much of openness and anarchy out of children’s television. Throw in a few million happy meals and bowls of sugary breakfast cereal (the empty calorie “part of this nutritious breakfast”) and it leads straight to today’s obesity epidemic.
Seriously, Gen Y (and beyond), you may mock us but you have no idea what you missed out on. Enjoy your iPods and overdeveloped sense of entitlement.
But back to the point: Monday Night Tease rocked, and Muppet Burlesque 2011 is already marked on my imaginary calendar. See you there.
…when Safari no longer knows how to autocomplete the URL for your blog. So here we are.
SXSW was great, and the city of Austin even better. I’m not sure I could live there, but I want to visit. Often.
I spent most of my time attending Interactive Panels and Interactive Parties, but the parts of SXSW that rocked my world were the midnight movies at the The Alamo Drafthouse. It’s a helluva place to see a film, probably second in my heart only to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery on a warm summer night, but minus the hassle of a car queue on Santa Monica Blvd.
Let’s talk movies.
Amer was hypnotic, subjective, almost without words, driven by dream logic and an almost brutal passion for repetition. It tells the story (sort of) of a woman at three ages - child, teen, adult - menaced by (mostly) unseen forces and slowly coming to grips with her evolving sexuality.
The first part was just brilliant - think Dario Argento meets Pan’s Labyrinth, replacing the fantastical creatures with half-glimpsed shadows, subjective primary colors and primal scene trauma. Part two was more whimsical and less satisfying, but the camera lingered over pulchritudinous flesh, so there was that. The bouncing ball remind me of something - Don’t Look Now, maybe? The final part, adulthood, had some beautiful moments and terrifying ones. I may have to make Drew Daywalt see it just so we can talk about it.
Tucker and Dale vs. Evil is a good role-reversal splatter comedy elevated to occasional brilliance by the performances of titular leads Tyler Labine and Alan Tudyk. Someone needs to greenlight 2 more sequels, post haste.
The Loved Ones is a smart, nasty ride, more twisted than you expect but not more than you can handle, that leaves you breathless and giddy at the end. I never realized how dark hot pink can be. Easily my favorite horror film of the year so far.
And then there’s A Serbian Film (Srpski Film). Where to begin? Let’s start in the projection booth: I doubt there’s city in a America where projecting this couldn’t get you thrown in jail. It’s likely the most transgressive thing ever put on film by highly skilled professionals. Whatever you imagine to be the limit of cinematic transgression, it goes there, steps boldly over the line and the laughs as it sprints off into the land of “oh my god I didn’t just see that.” The viewer is left shaken, disturbed, stunned. Breathless maybe, but not at all in a way that leaves you giddy.
Don’t misunderstand me. This isn’t “I dare ya” shock cinema. It’s not some contest of wills or an empty test of your movie watching mettle. It’s a slap in the face. It’s a primal scream. It’s a knife in the eye in a world where sharpened steel is your only word and pain your sole sensation. Sure, it’s utterly nihilistic, but it comes from a people and place that by all accounts have earned their nihilism.
Yet beneath it all, there’s a point - not just a point but a political message, a condemnation, and a cry for help. I can’t quite say I enjoyedA Serbian Film, but I feel enormously privileged to have seen it. NO ONE should watch this film…unless they feel absolutely compelled to. (But not compelled in a sexual way - if this film turns you on, seek help.)
It’s not coming to a theater near you, ever, and you won’t see it on VOD or Netflix, or buy it on Amazon. If you want this one, you’re going to have to hunt it down and see it in the shadows, on the margins, as it should be.
In the meantime, if you intend to see it do NOT read any reviews, don’t watch the trailer. Try to go in as unspoiled as you can in order to take the film’s brutality head on, without the armor of anticipation. If you’re intensely curious and you must read something, read only this amazing essay penned by @DrewAtHitFix. Somehow he found the words to describe the indescribable without giving away anything.
The other two films I saw - Electra Lux and All My Friends are Funeral Singers - had their charms, but the four above are the ones that defined my SXSW, at least between the hours of midnight and 3am. I can’t wait to go back next year for more.
i know i still have an i.o.u. outstanding for a review of umami burger. if you’re on the fence, don’t be - just go. you can thank me later.
but until then, let me just double down on unfulfilled promises by sharing this mouthwatering shot of the burger at the golden state. wow was this good. harris ranch beef, fiscalini farmhouse cheddar and a surprising hit of sweetness from brown sugar glazed bacon.
beyond the burger, hot dogs, sandwiches and sides, the golden state features a lovingly curated selection of california artisanal beers and ice cream from scoops, either l.a.’s best or second best ice cream shop, depending upon whether competitor and silverlake standout pazzo gelato is offering their cinnamon brown butter ice cream.
ok, wait, that makes four reviews i need to write now. damn.
after i polished off that burger and beer, i had room for one modest scoop of brown bread ice cream. i’ll have to hope they’re still offering the jameson ginger on my next visit.
both umami and golden state are less than 10 minutes from my apartment by car. expect to see me at both, often.