Los Angeles is not known for its film festivals. There are no Golden Bears, Silver Lions or Palme D’ors awarded to obscure auteurs whose careers rise and fall on a handful of impossible-to-get-into screenings presided over by the cinematic elite. There are no A-List celebrities conducting full press Q&As. There are no iconic screening rooms where film history was irrevocably altered. There are few, if any, world premieres. There are, however, audience awards.*

This past summer I was fortunate enough to attend two diametrically opposed summer film festivals in the Great Los Angeles area. The first was a behemoth: the L.A. Film Fest, which functions as the city’s “official” competition and seems to be pushing for greater respectability each year. In addition to showcasing gold-plated festival favorites (such as DRIVE and BEATS, RHYMES AND LIFE: THE TRAVELS OF A TRIBE CALLED QUEST), there were also unique events such as Guy Maddin directing a live musical/stage-play, or ‘film-to-be,’ of THE SEDUCTION OF INGMAR BERGMAN, originally commissioned by Swedish National Radio and soundtracked by L.A. natives Sparks. And, yes, there were also screenings of new works by obscure auteurs whose careers rise and fall on a handful of impossible-to-get-into screenings presided over by the cinematic elite (most notably Raúl Ruiz’s MYSTERIES OF LISBON).

Alas, these were all beyond my reach. Due to work conflicts and cash shortfalls I mostly watched these events from the Internet sidelines. By a stroke of luck, the good people at Film Radar** were offering a pair of free tickets to one of LAFF’s higher profile happenings: the North American premiere of Tsui Hark’s DETECTIVE DEE AND THE MYSTERY OF THE PHANTOM FLAME. The screening took place in the open-air splendor of the Ford Ampitheatre, beginning a few moments after the sun settled behind the adjacent tree line. It was a magnificent setting for a pretty good film. Of course, it’s inherently unfair to compare the natural beauty of the Hollywood Hills to a filmmaker whose aesthetic is so proudly artificial it makes Brian De Palma look like Frederick Wiseman, but it was an energizing dichotomy.

Tsui Hark, if you didn’t know, is the Hong Kong Steven Spielberg. Or more accurately, Steven Spielberg is the Hollywood Tsui Hark. He has a mind so fecund with cinematic trash and treasure that he is forced to farm out most of his ideas to other, often lesser, directors. It’s no accident that he has 59 producer credits dating back to 1984 (as opposed to a measly 44 directorial credits). He’s introduced cutting-edge special effects to Chinese filmmaking (ZU WARRIORS FROM THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN), helmed a politically furious, early classic of the Hong Kong New Wave (DANGEROUS ENCOUNTER OF THE FIRST KIND), and produced multiple iconic film franchises (A BETTER TOMORROW and ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA). He’s also responsible for one of the strangest films to EVER play in an American multiplex (DOUBLE TEAM) and it’s knock-off quasi-sequel (KNOCK OFF).

But it’s his directorial debut, THE BUTTERFLY MURDERS, that provides the strongest parallel to his most recent work. Both films are detective stories by way of wuxia. The protagonist of both films are societal outsiders who solve the central murder mysteries but remain unassimilated by the story’s end. And both films are lavish period pieces that are more interested in the truths of fantasy than official political histories. DETECTIVE DEE is both more extravagant in its set pieces (which are so frequent you could set your watch by them) and more socially and aesthetically conservative. The good detective saves the day AND the dynasty, before slinking off to a subterranean purgatory (a full explanation of which would involve a good many SPOILERS and the Internet frowns on such things). The scholarly hero of BUTTERFLY MURDERS merely walks away from the bloodbath finale after realizing he is in over his head. He is the film’s sole survivor.

A far different festival with a far different set of films played exclusively at the Cinefamily only a few weeks later. It was the 2nd Annual “Everything Is Festival,” presented in conjunction with the Everything Is Terrible website, and it was BANANAS. Or, at least, the one day I attended was. A full, three-day pass to the festival ran $90, which is a great deal considering what was on offer, but, again, out of my price range. The final day, on the Fourth of July no less, was even more tantalizingly out of reach. It was a “Members Only” screening of Joe Dante’s semi-legendary THE MOVIE ORGY. Thanks to the wise and gentle folks at Trailers From Hell***, however, I was granted a complimentary Golden Ticket and got to witness the madness first hand.

As you may or may not know, Mr. Dante began his career cutting trailers for the inimitable Roger Corman. He eventually ascended to the editor’s (GRAND THEFT AUTO) and director’s (PIRANHA, THE HOWLING, GREMLINS) chair. Years before those successes, while still a student, Joe cobbled together a seven-hour compilation of film clips, commercials, television oddities and whatever else he could find on discarded 16mm prints. With the financial backing of Schlitz beer, he toured college campuses in the late 1960s with his elephantine found-footage document.

He’s spent the years since his assent to the Hollywood B-List (or lately, sadly, the C-List) as an amateur film historian in addition to being a gigging director. He played both roles on this Fourth of July as he was on hand to introduce and attempt to prepare the audience for the audio-visual assault they were about to witness. Unfortunately, he could only salvage four and a half hours of his original cut, but there were enough cinematically charged juxtapositions in there to last a lifetime. It would be fruitless for me to describe the clips in detail, but my favorites included Elvis singing to a hound dog, almost the entirety of ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN, a commercial for a Batmobile for toddlers, almost the entirety of COLLEGE CONFIDENTIAL, Richard Nixon’s “Checkers” speech, a 1950s hoodlum whose obsession with personal freedom and attendant mantra of “don’t crowd me!” became an instant catchphrase, a bizarre children’s show starring Andy Devine and featuring a cat fake-playing “Jesus Loves Me” on a toy harmonium and a heartfelt musical finale by Roy Rogers. While the film itself brims with cinephilic wit and sophisticated editing, it was the act of seeing it with a like-minded (boozed-infused) crowd that made it such a joyous event. In particular, the “don’t crowd me!” line got exponentially more hilarious every half-hour it would reappear. The anticipation of the line produced a hushed silence punctuated by giggles that would explode into a roar of laughter. It was the hardest I’ve laughed in a movie theater, maybe in my entire life. And as you can plainly tell, the line itself is unremarkable. It’s all about the context.

(Joe Dante is, appropriately enough, the glowing man in white chatting with Cinefamily head honcho Hadrian Belove)

Just as Tsui Hark’s newest film has very strong, and I suspect, quite intentional ties to his directorial debut, Joe Dante’s THE MOVIE ORGY has more than a little in common with his most recent feature, THE HOLE (in 3D). Both films are nearly impossible to see in the United States. Both films are also “movie-movies” in the mold of the early Coen Brothers or Quentin Tarantino films are. Meaning, both are obsessed with the reality shaped by films and film culture and are consequently less concerned with making a ‘realistic’ film (whatever that means). On a more subtle level, both films are about an all-consuming cultural vacuum that we can too easily let ourselves fall into, whether its Western “progammers” from the 40s or a childish fear of the unknown.

Although the festivities technically started at the ultra-chic Standard Hotel on Sunset Blvd, the real fun was to be had in the backyard patio of the Cinefamily where burgers where cooked, hot dogs were heated, cheap beer was plentiful and grown men and women sat in a children-sized pool. Joe Dante amiably chatted with the filmic faithful. My girlfriend was there soaking it all in alongside me, just as she had been at DOCTOR DEE. It was the kind of film-going experience that makes me grateful to live in Los Angeles, and should make those who don’t supremely jealous (not of me, but of the city). It was the best Fourth of July I ever had.

* Joe Cornish’s ATTACK THE BLOCK, which you really should see, won the Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature.

** Film Radar’s website is a must for any film fan living in Southern California. In addition to compiling a monthly calendar of every repertory and indie film screening, they also conduct large-group field trips and often offer free tickets to unusual events.

*** Trailers From Hell is one of the funniest, most informative websites out there. It boils down the potentially long-winded nature of feature film commentary into a couple of minutes of fried gold. Their “gurus” include such luminaries as Edgar Wright, Guillermo del Toro, John Landis, Brian Trenchard-Smith and the man himself, Joe Dante. In addition to offering off-the-beaten-path film history (and industry gossip), they’ve also produced two of the most incredibly entertaining DVDs I’ve ever watched. I even bought them! In 2011!! I bought some DVDs in 2011. Can you believe it?

Please welcome a brand-new TFT Contributor: Eric Wheeler. Eric’s been a fan of the show for some time and we were lucky to have him as an intern at last year’s Nashville Film Festival. Am sure you’ll enjoy his post on that sacred space we call cinema! Jett.

I’ve always subscribed to the belief that you don’t read critics because you necessarily agree with them, but because they consistently offer you opinions, insights, analysis – or even long-ingrained prejudices – you don’t find anywhere else.

Critics such as Armond White, Glenn Kenny, Vadim Rizov or Jonathan Rosenbaum do this on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. Another critic whose rantings range from the despicable to the inspired is Jeffrey Welles, of Hollywood-Elsewhere semi-fame. Although he spends a lot of his time either breathlessly tracking every twist and turn – real or imagined – of the Oscar race, or bemoaning the aging, bloated bodies of his fellow Americans – he occasionally offers up ideas that are as elegantly simple as they are emotionally resonant. The finest of these is the conception of the ‘movie theater as church.’ Although I had never expressed it in so many words myself, it felt like an idea I had long ago succumbed to. Growing up in rural Rutherford County, NC, in the shadow of the Appalachian Mountains, I had regular access to exactly one 4-screen multiplex, now known as the Retro Cinema 4. Although I have since come to realize it is the absolute worst theater I had ever attended in my life – and my some margin, too – it is also a place I feel not only nostalgia for, but a certain reverence towards as well.

Although it tended to play only the broadest, most-crowd pleasing fare available – which is understandable to a certain degree – it provided me with indelible moments, afternoons and evenings that have shaped my soul (or whatever you want to call that combination of intellect, memory and emotion). Because of its haphazard, somewhat random programming, the films I revered as a child and teenager were not necessarily the same as those of my big city brethren. At various times of my life I have believed that Spy Game (Tony Scott; 2001), The Mummy (Stephen Sommers; 1999), The Jungle Book (Stephen Sommers, again!; 1994), Terminator 3 (Jonathan Mostow; 2003) or any of the Star Wars Special Edition re-releases (George Lucas; 1997) were the greatest, or at least, the coolest and therefore the most important, movies ever made. This is not a situation I regret. It’s one that I cherish (even if it entailed a great deal of ‘make-up work’ to catch up with the hundred years or so of cinema I had missed by the time I was born).

Watching movies in Los Angeles is a different beast altogether. Of course, it’s not quite the cinephile’s paradise that is New York City, with its MOMA, Film Forum, the somewhat misleadingly named Brooklyn Academy of Music, Film Society of Lincoln Center and countless others which provide a daily dose of classic, foreign, silent and independent films as well as showcase works rarely seen outside film festivals. Incidentally, the New York Film Festival is perhaps the largest and most prestigious showcase outside the Cannes-Venice-Berlin holy triumvirate.

The reigning world capital of film production, Los Angeles, can hardly boast such credentials. In fact, on the surface, the world of film-going in the Southland would seem solely composed of stadium-sized AMC multiplexes and the occasional, vastly overpriced and vertically integrated one-screen (such as Disney’s El Capitan Theater on Hollywood Blvd.) As with all things Los Angeles-based (side-note: one can never again refer to the film colony as “LA” after watching Thom Andersen’s copyright-defying masterpiece “Los Angeles Plays Itself”), the good stuff is always hiding just beneath the gleaming, grungy surface. First-run theaters run the gamut from the historic-beautiful Grauman’s Chinese Theater (on Hollywood Blvd.) to the indie-extravagant ArcLight (on Sunset Blvd.) to a combination of the two (the Arclight’s Cinerama Dome). Rounding out alternate first-run all-stars would be the NuArt (on Santa Monica Blvd., right off the 405 freeway), the one-screen wonder that is the Vista (located at a clusterfuck of an intersection in the Los Feliz neighborhood) and the indie film landmark Laemmle 5 (located just east of the Sunset Strip). Having sampled each of these fine establishments multiple times I can tell you they are always worth a visit, despite the varying quality of the films being shown.

But, if it’s the quality of the film being shown that means the most to your entertainment dollar, the local repertory houses are your soundest investment. From the daily double-bill of the New Beverly Cinema (located logically enough on Beverly Blvd.) to the weekend screening series at the American Cinematheque (located at both the Egyptian Theater on Hollywood Blvd. and the Aero Theater on Montana Ave. in Santa Monica) to the relatively fresh-faced Cinefamily (formerly Silent Movie Theater, still on Fairfax Ave.), you can’t fail to find something of interest. Whether it’s a restored print of a classic film you’ve never seen, a director or screenwriter speaking in person or just an irresistibly rare 35mm screening of film that’s ‘impossible’ to see, these places have got you covered. And there is, as you may suspect, so much more.

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For the inaugural entry of this column, I’ve decided to juxtapose the 1972 and 2011 incarnations of The Mechanic. And not just as ‘films’ but as ‘film going experiences.’ This means I’ll not only be contrasting Jason Statham’s threateningly bald skull to Charles Bronson’s inexplicably youthful mop-top, but also the conflicting directorial styles, the contemperanous film culture and the considerable distinctions of seeing a brand-new movie in a slick, first-run megaplex versus seeing a cult-classic in a beaten-up but beloved hovel of cinema. Or, at least, I’ll try.

I saw the original Mechanic at the New Beverly Cinema, as part of its two-day Charles Bronson double-header (the B-film was Walter Hill’s directorial debut, Hard Times). Upon purchasing my two-film ticket for a meager seven dollars I was handed a pass for a free, promotional screening of the Mechanic remake at an AMC multiplex the following week. Even though this was a very welcome surprise, I decided to pass on the opportunity and see the film opening weekend at Grauman’s Chinese (or so I planned…)

The New Bev is a tiny, family-run theater. It’s lived multiple lives as a reputable first-run single screen, a porno theater during economically difficult times in the 1970s, and it now stands as the only daily repertory house in Los Angeles County. Known for its fun and eclectic programming (a Robert Altman doubleheader on February 19^th was followed by a midnight screening of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles), it’s a casual oasis of cinephilia that admirably lacks pretension. The Billy Wilder Screening Room at UCLA’s Hammer Theater, this is not. It also has the cheapest and, to my positive-associations-imprinted mind, the best tasting popcorn in the city. The only real downside to visiting this fine establishment is trying to use one of its two (one for each gender) bathrooms during a particularly busy night (such as the recent, sold-out WRIGHT STUFF II or Quentin Taratino’s on-going MARCH MADNESS series).

So: small, friendly, broken-in, attentive to the margins of filmic history. Words I would never use to describe the Mann’s Chinese 6 Theaters. The actual presentation inside the theater is surprisingly stellar (really, blacks as rich and primary colors as bold as at the Arclight – I still recall the vividness of Tak Fujimoto’s cinematography for the otherwise forgettable Devil). While this is not, in itself, particularly unique, exceptional film projection is always welcome. The tumult surrounding Mann’s Chinese 6 Theaters, however, is somewhat unique. It’s tucked away inside the gargantuan Hollywood and Highland renovation project that includes everything from a Gap to a Hard Rock Café (which should really be a Planet Hollywood, in my opinion) to the Kodak Theater, the new-ish home of the Academy Awards. Incidentally, the architecture of the multi-block complex is modeled on D.W. Griffith’s famously leviathan film set for “Intolerance.” As one walks down Hollywood Blvd. you can gaze up at the names of Best Picture winners adorning the towering columns of the complex. That is, you can gaze up while navigating through a haze of slow-moving tourists, petulant locals and one of the largest collections of celebrity impersonators in the world. However, not everyone gets to be an icon like Spider-Man or an instantly recognizable extra like a Tatooine-based Stormtrooper (you know, the ones with the light-brown shoulder pad). One of the stranger sights during my many voyages up and down that venal, venerated boulevard was that of a small child posing with a black Zorro and a man in a generic alien mask with a cheap flashing laser gun. Black Zorro and Anonymous Alien, that classic duo!

Even more sensational(istic) is Grauman’s Chinese, that historic theater with the surprisingly small hand-and-foot prints of Cary Grant, John Wayne, Eddie Murphy, Sophia Loren and many, many others. My original masterplan was to watch the Mechanic remake in this 2200-seat landmark. I had naturally assumed that this particular film would be playing in this particular location because Grauman’s has a habit, in addition to hosting glamorous film premieres, of playing the cheapest, most violent, most low-rent genre ‘trash’ available. The first film I ever saw there was 2008’s hilariously violent Punisher: War Zone. Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez supposedly used to frequent the place on weekends that horror films would open there. In fact, they might have been there while I was watching The Mechanic next door, since I had completely forgotten about the Anthony Hopkins vehicle The Rite, which opened the same day. Yikes. ANOTHER film about ANOTHER exorcism. The world doesn’t need it. But the world doesn’t exactly need a remake of The Mechanic either. Still, I’m glad it exists. Hell, I’m even glad The Rite exists, sight unseen, because it’s another film about sacred spaces, starring sacred monsters.

To be continued next week in…SACRED MONSTERS – BRONSON VS. STATHAM!

So,  the 83rd annual Academy Awards happened. I think. The effort to revitalize the franchise for the “young and hip” demographic failed miserably. Twitter was abuzz with grand pronouncements of “most boring Oscars ever.” The historically-inaccurate THE KING’S SPEECH robbed the historically-inaccurate THE SOCIAL NETWORK of all the highest honors. The most entertaining part of the night came from the Auto Tune the News team doing an unintentional musicals mashup. Yes, the best part of a show all about movies was a web video. Speaking of web videos, James Franco iPhoned his opening entrance and posted it on his Twitter a few moments later.

Check out the video. Pretty cool seeing it from the host’s side, don’t you think? But sadly, his videos tweets became less interesting as the night progressed, culminating in a hand massage courtesy of Anne Hathaway.

Last week, the Belcourt Theatre in Nashville announced their new series for March and April: VISIONS OF THE SOUTH. And holy expl@t!ve, I’ve never been more excited about a film series! The show culminates in a rare screening of Oscar Micheaux’s 1925 silent film BODY AND SOUL, featuring the first appearance of legendary actor Paul Robeson. Micheaux was one of America’s first black directors and THE first independent filmmaker of any ethnicity. He was raised in Metropolis, Illnois only 40 minutes away from my home town in western Kentucky. Sadly, Metropolis celebrates a fictitious super hero (Superman by way of a giant statue and yearly festival) while they have completely forgotten their real national treasure.

I could gush full blog about every film in the VISIONS OF THE SOUTH series. Do yourself a favor and go check out the lineup. The series kicks off Friday, March 11th with Elia Kazan’s WILD RIVER.

Allow me one more tangent before my main review of KABOOM. Last night I saw ENTER THE VOID at the Belcourt with the censored reel restored. One day is not distance enough to formulate an opinion on the film’s merits; but rest assured, it is a film like no other. The film is shot in first person through the eyes of a young American drug dealer living in Tokyo. At times, I literally felt like I was in his head. It was not a pleasant place to be.

Is the film too long? Too indulgent? Maybe. No matter your opinion, you have to admire the craft and skill of the camera team who used the camera cranes and other rigs to remarkable effect. The same could be said for the visual effects team whose effects blend in (for the most part) so well that it’s hard to tell what is real. ENTER THE VOID is a crowning technical achievement, the APOCALYPSE NOW of drug movies. It will be discussed for years to come.

Gregg Araki’s KABOOM exists in a universe not too distant from ENTER THE VOID. Whereas EtV is a day-glo trip about young people destroying themselves in order to find solace, KABOOM is a day-glo trip about young people trying to have a good time and getting destroyed in the process. Actually, to be honest, I’m not exactly sure what it’s about. There’s the bisexual lead Smith who sexes his way through a campus mystery involving a cult of animal-masked creepy people. There are also mind controlling witches, sage-like sexpots, and secret agent hippies. The film sheds a level of credulity every reel or so, and I get the sense that we’re supposed to revel in the camp. I attended with friends who are diehard Araki fans, and they all had a ball. I’ve only seen one of his films — THE DOOM GENERATION — and since that viewing was when the VHS edition was a new release, you’ll forgive me for my spotty remembrance.

The bright spot is the arresting young actress Haley Bennett, who I am convinced is going to be a huge star. There, I’m calling it now. She steals ever scene she is in.

The movie was shot on video, which is certainly no strike against it in of itself; but the look is so garishly post-processed and color-amped that I couldn’t stand to look at the screen for more than a few moments at a time. That is an apt-metaphor for every other aspect of the picture.

I know what you’re going to say. ENTER THE VOID is also garishly post-processed. True. But whereas the color-timer on ENTER THE VOID can be likened to Van Gogh, the timer on KABOOM painted the white-ribbon-winning landscape at the state fair.

If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed Gregg Araki to be in his early twenties instead of his early fifties. I say this because the film is full of all those young filmmaker urges that must be sowed before adulthood. There’s the standard “we don’t know it’s a dream until he wakes up” sequence, the one-dimensional college stereotypes, and the “cut from something gory to a close-up of food being sliced that looks like something gory.” The only thing missing is a “wake up and turn the alarm off” opening. But Gregg is no first-timer. I have to accept that these techniques are all intentional. What that intention is, I have no idea.

And then there’s the ending. I still haven’t figured out if it is intended to be a Donnie Darko “awwwww shit” moment or an irreverent thumb at the audience for taking everything so seriously. If latter, epic fail. I stopped taking things seriously after the first 15 minutes. The final shot was less a “WTF?!” and more an “Ummmm. . . okaaaaay.” If you’re already an Araki fan, you’ll probably be perfectly satisfied with KABOOM. If not, wait for the VHS release.

Tony Youngblood is a film and music snob and producer of the experimental improv music blog and podcast Theatre Intangible. His favorite films include Eric Rohmer’s The Green Ray, Abbass Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us, Ingmar Bergman’s The Magician, Lee Chang Dong’s Oasis, and Rob Reiner’s This Is Spinal Tap.

Toshiro Mifune in Stray Dog

Stray Dog
1949, Screening July 16th – 19th

This Toshiro Mifune crime drama is film-noir Kurosawa style and considered by many to be the director’s best pre-Rashomon film. In a plot that would be grifted time and time again, Mifune plays a rookie cop whose gun is stolen. He and his superior (Takashi Shimura of Ikiru fame) hunt for the thief.  Meanwhile, the gun is used in a robbery and murder, Mifune grows more and more discombobulated, and personalities collide. The sweat is palpable. With a brand new 35mm print, Stray Dog is one of Kurosawa’s first masterpieces and a must see.

Seven Samurai
1954, Screening July 24th-26th

Seven Samurai

Most of the films playing in the Kurosawa Centennial have not been show at the Belcourt in the last few years. The exception is Seven Samurai, a film commonly touted as one of the best films in history. “You can’t really ignore that one,” says Belcourt programming director Toby Leonard in the Film Talk interview. “It’s probably the fourth time we’ve played it in 10 years, but it is absolutely essential on so many levels.” If you’re like me, you’ve seen Seven Samurai so many times that it won’t be the end of the world if you miss it here; but for those who have been living under a rice patty, Seven Samurai is a must see.

I Live In Fear
1955, Screening July 31st-Aug 2nd

I Live In Fear, image courtesy of DVDBeaver

One of the most striking criticisms of war ever put to film, I Live In Fear stars Toshiro Mifune as an elderly man so afraid of a nuclear attack that he tries to move his family to South America. The film mixes the irrational fears of war with the very real threats that plagued post-war Japan. The film was released just 10 years after the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and only three years after bans on atomic bomb discussion in Japan were lifted by the U.S. occupation forces. A daring, reflective (and sometimes overwrought) statement that is only more prescient in today’s climate. A must see.

Drunken Angel
1948, Screening Aug 7th-9th

Shimura and Mifune in Drunken Angel

I was quite mesmerized by Drunken Angel when I saw it during its last Belcourt run, and I can’t wait to see it again. In a village caged by mob rule, an alcoholic doctor (Takashi Shimura) strikes an uneasy friendship with the young Yakuza firebrand (Toshiro Mifune) he’s treating for tuberculosis. Through sly tricks and sheer obstinacy, the doctor brings about an awaking in the young thug and helps transform the town in the process. In the guise of film noir, Kurosawa delivers another humanist masterpiece. A must see.

Ikuru
1952, Screening Aug 14th-16th

Takashi Shimura in Ikiru. Image courtesy of DVDBeaver.

There are two types of Kurosawa fans: those who prefer Seven Samurai and those who prefer Ikiru. That may be overly-simplistic, but no other Kurosawa film rivals the venerable samurai epic in its critical acclaim. While my favorite Kurosawa remains Red Beard (the Belcourt screening a few weeks ago cemented that), I’ll take the insight and compassion of Ikiru over the swashbuckling and style of Seven Samurai any day. Ikiru stars Takashi Shimura as an aging City Hall chief who develops cancer and must reevaluate his meaningless existence. He seeks the pleasures of night and the comforts of family; but nothing can fill the void until a few simple acts of kindness lead to a complete transformation in him and the people around him. A masterwork for the ages, Ikiru is a must see.

Thus ends my Kurosawa Centennial Preview part two.  To read about the films in part 1 (including the yet-to-screen Dodes-Ka’Den, Sanshiro Sugata and The Men Who Tread on the Tiger’s Tail click here.)

Tony Youngblood is the current Foursquare Mayor of the Belcourt Theatre, a film and music snob, and producer of the experimental improv music blog and podcast Theatre Intangible. His favorite films include Eric Rohmer’s The Green Ray, Abbass Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us, Ingmar Bergman’s The Magician, Lee Chang Dong’s Oasis, and Rob Reiner’s This Is Spinal Tap.

Nashville’s Belcourt Theatre has lived a long and fruitful life, first opening in 1925 as the silent movie house The Hillsboro Theatre.  Since then, the Belcourt has housed the Grand Ole Opry, The Children’s Theatre of Nashville, the Nashville Community Playhouse, and the Belcourt Cinema.  In 1999, the theatre was forced to close, and a grassroots group of Belcourt lovers formed Belcourt YES! to save the historic venue.   You can read all about the fascinating history on the Belcourt website here.

In years since, the Belcourt has slowly evolved from a historic placard into one of the most vital and respected art house cinemas in the country.  I can count the theatres I truly love on one hand, including the not-unworthy New Beverly Cinema in Los Angeles, The Tampa Theatre, The Paramount in Austin, and The Elgin and Winter Garden Theatres in Toronto.  But it is the Belcourt Theatre in Nashville that I love the most.

A big part of that is due to the staff’s gutsy, thoughtful, and original programming choices.  I chatted with Programming Directory Toby Leonard about the theatre’s summer schedule, its history, and its future.

TY: The Belcourt turned 85 this year, and it’s been 10 years since the formation of the non-profit organization which rescued it from bankruptcy.  How would you describe the last 10 years?  Do any particular memories stick out?

TL: The last 10 years? It’s been pretty wild.  I came in just after the theater opened, and those first few years could best be described as shaky.  It was certainly a learning process for everyone involved, from board to staff, and attendance wasn’t near what it is now.  We’ve had a lot of “angels” over the years, and most of them actually still are in a lot of ways.  We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the faith and pockets of a handful of key people and those folks know who they are.  Sometime around the middle of the decade, things started to really pull together.  Attendance was on the rise and the theater was being used by all sorts of people for all sorts of purposes.  It really went from something that the community wanted to stay intact to something that the community built, whatever that is…whatever it is now.  As for memories, the music theory major in me immediately recalls an afternoon and evening spent in the company of McCoy Tyner (the pianist from Coltrane’s most famous quartet), who played two sets that night.  Filmwise, Satantango was always thought I would have to travel to see, but a colleague and friend who programs the Cinema Arts Centre in Huntington, NY set up a tour of a print brought over from Hungary.  Also, I saw Ikiru for the first time here before I took over programming.  I came in early one morning before we had to ship it out and watched it alone, emerging 2.5 hours later tear-strewn and renewed.  I’m very much looking forward to seeing it again.  It’s one of my favorites.  The Anvil show comes to mind as well.  What a blast that was.

TY: One of my fondest film-going memories is seeing all 450 minutes of Satantango at the Belcourt.  My only screenings of Ikiru have been on 16mm and dvd, so I look forward to seeing it at the Belcourt during the Kurosawa Centennial going on right now.  The Belcourt is known for some pretty phenomenal retrospectives, and the Kurosawa Centennial is no exception.  You decided on some lesser known works over popular works like Rashomon and Throne of Blood.  How did you decide on what to screen and what to leave out?

TL: Why thank you!  With the Kurosawa, I was concerned as I always am of repeating things. We’ve run a bunch of his films over the last decade, a few numerous times and Rashomon is one of those. Films like Throne of Blood, High and Low, Yojimbo/Sanjuro, and Dersu Uzala had even played within 2-3 years of this summer, so that helped to thin the heard a bit. With Seven Samurai, you can’t really ignore that one. It’s probably the fourth time we’ve played it in 10 years, but it is absolutely essential on so many levels. Some of these like Ran, Dodes’ka-Den and Stray Dog are brand new prints. With these conditions, it allowed the opportunity to dig a little deeper. The one that we missed however was Scandal, which sadly had to go back to Japan before we could get at it. A surprising and rather timely film, actually.

TY: Are there any more retrospectives/collections in the works?

TL: Yes sir… There are three or four I’m bandying about at the moment and don’t want to give too much away, and there’s also a fairly large concept on the plate for next winter; but I will confirm a Tati Retrospective for mid-fall. The hardest part is carving out the right time and coordinating the prints. If a certain film is key but isn’t available when you need it, the whole thing has to move.

TY: Excellent news about the Jacques Tati series!  I’m keeping my fingers crossed for an Eric Rohmer or Frederick Wiseman retrospective.  What’s coming up for the summer that really excites you?

TL: Gotta be Winter’s Bone, my top pick from Sundance this year.  I’ve heard called ‘hixploitation’ by some in more northern regions, and I take exception. Everyone involved with the film was asked to read the book first.  Anyways…yeah, Winter’s Bone and I’m also looking forward this restoration of [Jean Luc Goddard's] Breathless that’s touring around.  We’ll play that in August.

Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone

TY: That makes me happy to hear.  You selected this year’s wildly-popular Second Saturday outdoor screenings differently than years past.  You sent a ballot to Belcourt members asking them to vote on their favorites.  I was quite hoping Ernest Goes to Camp made the cut.  I’m very happy that The Jerk was picked (screening July 10th on the Belcourt outside wall at sundown).  What were some of your favorites that lost the popular vote?

TL: Yeah, The Jerk, right?  I hope everyone leaves the kids home for that one.  The dog is cute, but it’s name is Shithead after all.  I’m actually pretty happy with the results.  The list itself was comprised of mostly well-known titles, but I wouldn’t have minded if The T.A.M.I. Show or The Blob had made the cut.  The films were culled from a rather spectacular 16mm collection that resides here in town, so there’s always next year.

TY: So many great films, too few opportunities to screen them all.  If print availability and marketability were no objects, what director would you most want to do a retrospective on?

TL: Oh man…Bela Tarr?  Ozu?  Antonioni?   All would be very expensive.  We at the Belcourt have to live in the real world.  One of our staff is going to New York to see the Anthony Mann retrospective at the Film Forum and I’m suitably jealous.  There’s just no end to what you can and can’t play.

TY: When I lived near Paducah, Kentucky, I helped a local art house theater program a few films.  I convinced the manager to screen Ousmane Sembene‘s Moolaadé just after its release; and I was so happy with myself.  I had this feeling that if we booked really great, engaging, meaningful films, people would come.  For the weekend run, we sold three tickets.  Later, we screened the Kirk Cameron fundamentalist vehicle Facing the Giants, and it sold out for weeks.  Are you ever disappointed in the turnout for a film that’s close to your heart?  How does it affect your future programming?

TL: Funny you should mention Sembene.  We ran Moolaade too.  It was at a time where we’d do a panel for anything.  If there was an angle, we’d have a panel.  Our marketing girl at the time put one together from a female empowerment point of view, jumping off of the theme of the film with regards to mutilation.  A lot of people showed up!  When Sembene died, I decided to give a month of our Weekend Classics program over to him and it was definitely a disappointment.  It was a lot to ask of an audience to take a chance on these quirky yet unheard-of films, but at the same time, seeing Black Girl and Borom Sarret on 35mm was just amazing.  I’m glad that I got to share that with ten or so people.  It might affect future programming in some way, but I try to think of it as a community service and just move on because there will always be something completely unexpected that balances it out…like the 200+ people who turned out for The Mother and the Whore a few weeks back. I didn’t see that coming.

Mbissine Thérèse Diop in Black Girl, still courtesy of DVDBeaver.com

TY: I was one of those ten people at Black Girl and Ceddo, and while the turnouts weren’t great, the impact the films had on us few WAS great.  That really reaps benefits in the long run for the Belcourt.  As a film programmer, you have some of the best instincts in the business.  I almost without exception find that if there’s a film making waves on the circuit that I want to see, the Belcourt will eventually screen it (or already has).  How do you find your films?

TL: I get a whole lot out of Sundance and the Toronto International Film Festival, each for different reasons. They are the two festivals I attend yearly and together they can cover much of what winds up being released theatrically in first-run art house world. I track a lot of other activity online as well or, as Bush the First would say, “on the Google”.

TY: The Belcourt midnight shows are quite popular.  The Rocky Horror Picture Show screenings always sell out, but that’s really a given.  But I never would have expected the little Japanese horror film Hausu to pack the house two weekends in a row.  You were quick to book the cult-classics-in-making The Room and Birdemic: Shock and Terror.  And now the Belcourt is screening what some consider to be the worst movie of all time — Troll 2 –  double-featured with the new documentary about it Best Worst Movie.  Are the midnight shows particularly fun to program?  More risky?

TL: Well…yes and no.  The most frustrating aspect of programming the midnights is the fact that I’m a single father and can rarely even make it down for them.  It’s like living vicariously through my own job!  Truthfully, I think I’ve been able to come to one in the last year and it was probably the one that I was least interested in seeing.  The fact is that we do get a lot of requests via e-mail and social networking for Midnight Movies, but I’ve also found that some of the more requested films don’t actually yield the highest turnout.  Jason Shawhan, who hosts the midnights, is always yielding requests as well and I also solicit input from my co-workers who can and do come out for them, whether working or not.  Things like Hausu? All of the stars aligned on that one.  Most of us (the staff) had seen it and were heavily evangelizing for it.  We had Sam Smith design a poster for it and next thing we knew, Janus Films adopted it for their national release.

TY: It’s a pretty kick ass poster.  Speaking of The Room, Birdemic, and Troll 2 . . . Entertaining “bad” films are very popular nowadays.  Plan 9 From Outer Space took a while for people to discover, but now it seems that these films are being churned out almost as a new genre.  There’s a real danger that directors will make intentional “bad” films in order to achieve cult status.  But do you think people would see through it?  Is the sincerity behind films like The Room and Birdemic what make them so appealing?

TL: There certainly is sincerity behind it; but there is a real difference between The Room, which is actually bad, and Birdemic, which is intentionally bad and really didn’t take off the same way.  At the same time, I think that the appeal of something like The Room is that it genuinely makes people happy.  It makes a lot of people happy all packed in a room at the same time.  It’s a genuine cinematic experience that transcends its own, um, qualities when viewed with a large group.  Therefore, it can’t really be bad.  You can think of it and laugh.  Maybe Tommy Wiseau doesn’t see it that way, or didn’t originally.  The documentary Winnebago Man perfectly illustrates this dilemma of laughing at other people’s expense.  When someone like that guy, or Tommy Wiseau, or George Hardy from Troll 2 has or will come to terms with their cinematic follies, they will share in that laughter and maybe even laugh the hardest, hopefully all the way to the bank.

TY: Winnebago Man is the new documentary about Jack Rebney — made famous by the Found Footage Festival (which screened for the last two years at the Belcourt).  Any chance you’ll book Winnebago Man?

TL: It will be part of our August lineup, but I haven’t set the date yet. Probably early-mid August.

TY: Good to hear.  I just noticed today that you’re screening the complete Metropolis in July, truly the crown jewel in any art house belt.  This is something that wasn’t even possible two years ago.  [Link about lost footage discovery.]  And now it will be screening in Nashville.  Do you think people will appreciate how big of a deal this is?

TL: I certainly hope so.  It’s a long time in the coming.

TY: The Belcourt is also home to plays, burlesque shows, and music events.  You’ve had artists as prestigious as King Crimson, Lucinda Williams, Leon Redbone, Loudon Wainwright, and Bill Frisell play there.  How do you secure these performers?

TL: We work with local promoters on those shows, who actually rent the facility.  We consider doing it directly from time to time but find that it’s enough just to concentrate on what we do full-time, which is film.  We’re happy to host the shows though.  There really have been some great ones to come through here.

TY: Along with Drag City, you are distributing Harmony Korine’s new film Trash Humpers.  At the sold out premiere, an old man with a cane stormed out of the theater within the first 15 minutes yelling, “Garbage! Pure garbage!”  I’m still unsure if it was real or staged.  What is it about the film that made you take it under your wing?  While it undoubtedly did well in the director’s home town of Nashville, is it a riskier bet in other cities?

TL: That was Dave Cloud’s dad!  [Dave is an actor in the film and local rock legend.]  Not sure what he might have been expecting. Maybe Dave told him it was about seniors.  Working on Trash Humpers is a lot of fun. The film, for what it is, is doing quite well. It’s appeal is pretty limited (of course), but then again so was its budget so it kinda works. We’re getting close to 40 cities booked, and Harmony’s been appearing at some and doing Q&As via Skype at some others when he can.  He told me recently that he thought that it’s the widest theatrical release that any of his films have received, even more so than Mister Lonely, a much glossier affair for certain.

Harmony Korine's Trash Humpers

TY: That was Dave Cloud’s dad?  Priceless.  Dave was on the episode of my WRVU radio show Theatre Intangible that got me banned from the station for life.  But it was totally worth it!  One of the dangers of Trash Humpers getting such a high-profile release is that it may alter people’s perception of what it is.  Korine has said that it’s not really a film; it’s something that should be found in a bin at Goodwill or unearthed in a trash dump.  I get the sense that it was sort of a fun side project that kept growing.  Will putting a red rope around it detract from its appeal?

TL: A theatrical release, if you can get it, is still the best way to launch anything in a viewable feature-length format, whether it fits the acceptable notion of a “film” or not.  Some might argue that traditional IMAX spectacles, etc. aren’t actually films either, but it sure beats the hell out of watching it on a computer.

TY: How do we keep from becoming the jaded cigar-chomping studio executive going for the least common denominator?

TL: We ignore them. Life’s too short for crappy films.

Toby Leonard currently serves as the Program Director of the Belcourt Theatre in Nashville. In 1999, he was part of a small group that saved the city’s last historic neighborhood theater from the wrecking ball. Since then, he has dedicated the past 10 years to making the Belcourt a nationally recognized venue for challenging cinema and a model of community pride and involvement. He serves on the leadership committee and as co-chair of the programming committee of the Sundance Institute’s Art House Project, a unit of 12 nationwide cinemas established to keep the arthouse vital to local and national film culture. He has also served as a consultant to other film-based organizations including The Documentary Channel, a growing cable channel as well as Chicago’s venerable indie music label Drag City via the theatrical release of Harmony Korine’s Trash Humpers.

Tony Youngblood is a pretentious film and music snob who produces the experimental improv music blog and podcast Theatre Intangible. His favorite films include Eric Rohmer’s The Green Ray, Abbass Kiarostami’s The Wind Will Carry Us, Ingmar Bergman’s The Magician, Lee Chang Dong’s Oasis, and Rob Reiner’s This Is Spinal Tap.

If ya haven’t listened to this week’s podcast:

TFT 104 – EVERYBODY’S FINE / PAPER HEART

you may not know that the fine folks at that great repertory cinema The Belcourt Theatre here in Nashville, are offering an absurdly wonderful gift to a new ‘The Film Talk’ Member this week, (it could be you!).

As part of our Pledge Drive the first person who joins TFT at ‘The Fuller‘ level or above this week will receive a ‘Screenwriter Membership’ to The Belcourt.  What does this mean?

Well, ya get $2.50 off of every movie for a year, 20% off all the snack bar goodies and drinks, (except alcohol – don’t wanna go overboard here), a weekly email newsletter, all online booking fees waved, discounts on select special events and, amazingly for the 21st Century, a Monthly Calender mailed to your house, (I know – a guy actually hand delivers it to you – you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren!).

Oh – and the above is for two people. So, if you live in Nashville and love the movies, (I know I’m not the only one), then click on the ol’ Operation Save the Film Talk link:

OPERATION SAVE THE FILM TALK

and sign up.  And if you see me at The Belcourt on occasion please feel free to come over and say hi – I might even buy ya an alcoholic drink – to make up for the one thing the Screenwriter Membership can’t do!

- – -

Oh, and apologies to Belcourt projectionist Matt featured in the photograph above – I haven’t taken pics at the theatre for a while so I keep using the same image of Matt manning the projector at one of the well known local film lover and collector Tom Will’s great outdoor movie events.  I promise to refresh my Belcourt image bank soon!

Superman: The Movie – It’s the simple pleasures that I remember: Marlon Brando’s uppercrust English accent, small town Americana, Gene Hackman’s megalomania, Lois Lane’s sincere but complete missing of the point.

Planet of the Apes: It has a real story, with believable pacing, and actually manages to stay on the right side of melodrama in unfolding an only slightly implausible story about the end of the world.

Dr Strangelove: It has a real story, with believable pacing, and manages to stay on the right side of melodrama in unfolding a dramatic and only slightly implausible story about the end of the world.

The Black Hole: It has no believable characters, is paced like a rollercoaster whose tracks haven’t been oiled, and is brim-full of melodrama, but it was the first film I ever saw, and therefore can’t be evaluated as anything other than miraculous nostalgia.  I can’t wait to see it again.

All four screen tonight, tomorrow and Sunday, except ‘The Black Hole’ which you can see tonight and tomorrow only. Join us if you can.

Jett: ‘If there were one film to take to a desert island and the only one I could see for the rest of my life, it would be ‘Andrei Rublev’.  It’s an astonishing, engrossing film that feels like it was shot in the time it was set.  In the 14th century.’

Gareth: ‘I probably haven’t had a more transcendent experience with a film than when I saw ‘Solaris”

Next month, our friends at Film Society of Lincoln Center in NYC will present a week of cinematic mysticism with a complete retrospective of Tarkovsky’s feature films.  We’re going to record a podcast about Tarkovsky in a couple of weeks – and look forward to the extraordinary delight of watching all of his movies before recording.

We’ll save the discussion of the meaning of his films for later; though their power probably can’t be overstated, so I’ll allow myself one comment: Andrei Tarkovsky’s films leave me feeling as if cinema really does matter, make me excited to be alive, and remind me of the privilege of being human.

If you’re in the area we can’t encourage you enough to visit FilmLinc.  And if not, while DVD will be a poor substitute for the enveloping experience of watching this most spiritually expansive director’s works in a cinema, I’d still visit the Mummy in Belfast’s Ulster Museum even if I couldn’t get to the pyramids.*

*Full disclosure: Much as I wish TFT had the budget to house me in New York for a week so I could sit at the Walter Reade Theater in the presence of Andrei Tarkovsky’s films, only one of which I’ve actually seen in a cinema.  Alas TFT ran on a shoestring even before the economic crisis!  So if you can’t be in NYC for the season, don’t be lonely – we’re in solidarity with you, watching at home.  Actually, it occurs to me that, given that Tarkovsky’s films are as much about the interior journey of the individual human as they are about the macro-spiritual nature of the universe, ultimately each of them needs to be seen twice – once on the biggest screen you can find (try the Max Linder Kinopanorama in Paris if you’re ever there), and once alone in your cave.  Doesn’t particularly matter which order you do it in.

You know, Dear Listener, that The Film Talk is striving for something rare: to be a truly international cinema podcast. Your genial co-hosts Jett & Gareth are men of the world, widely travelled, for whom it would not be an overstatement to assert the core truth of country music: wherever they lay their hats, that’s their home.

While we both now make our caves in the land of Buster Keaton, William F Buckley, Andrew Dice Clay, and the late Bea Arthur, our first encounter with each other was in the hallowed space of Belfast’s only arthouse theatre (or, as the somewhat ridiculous government-endorsed lingo has it: ‘specialist cinema’), the Queen’s Film Theatre.   QFT, more than any other venue, formed my cinematic consiousness over the past two decades – beginning rather inauspiciously with a late night screening of ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’, later becoming the place where I first saw Kieslowski films, bumped into Albert Maysles, discovered Hirokadu Koreeda’s ‘After Life’, listened to Howard Shore play the temp tracks he shows David Cronenberg when he’s scoring a movie for him, fell for Emmanuelle Beart in ‘Nelly et M Arnaud’, saw a triple bill of ‘Miller’s Crossing’, ‘Lost Highway’ and ‘The End of Violence’, (never saw a David Lynch film anywhere else) and even had a door held open for me by Mike Leigh.  Couldn’t happen in too many other places.

QFT has been a magical place for me; operated as something close to a labour of love for many years, especially when it was one of the few entertainment venues that stayed open in the toughest days of the conflict in and about northern Ireland. It’s changed of course; updated furnishing, rebuilt screens, different seats; some of the romance of the old theatre that you could only get to by knowing where the almost-secret back alley was has gone, but it’s still the place where people in Belfast who want to be surprised by cinema end up every week. I saw ‘In the Loop’ – which could well turn out to be my favourite film this year – there just a few days ago.

And now, QFT has launched a new website – much easier to use than the previous one, which had some of the quaint characteristics associated with Web 1.0

The new www.queensfilmtheatre.com is gorgeous to look at, intuitive to use, and the only criticism I can offer is that no one has yet invented the Star Trek transporter machine, so I can’t get to see the films screening there unless I fly to Belfast. QFT is that rare thing – a cinema with heart, with a touch of the personal, a movie theatre where you can feel at home. We hope that The Film Talk offers something similar; for now, I’m happy to begin this week by paying tribute to one of the best places in the world to watch movies.  And we’d love to hear from you, Dear Listener, about your own cinema shrines – please comment below.

Google has unveiled a new feature called Street View, which lets you
navigate the streets of a town via photographic interface.  My first
thought was to visit the UC Theatre in Berkeley, California.

My love for movies was born at the UC.  Every day – every single friggin day! – when I was was growing up they showed TWO different movies.  Two Hitchcock’s, two Truffaut’s, two Mizoguchi’s, two Russ Meyers’.  My life was kinda difficult as a teen so there were some weeks I spent every day there – after a while the folks working the ticket office didn’t bother asking for money, they just let me wander in, Jujyfruits in hand to find solace in that dark church.

The UC Theatre on Google Streetmaps

As you can see the UC is now shut down.  Another casualty of the ‘video at home’ revolution.

We have access, all of us reading this, to an infinity of ‘content’ on our screens, but the shared experience of bodies closely packed together, involved together in the moment is gone.  I had no idea how lucky I was.