FILM REVIEW: LISTEN TO ME MARLON

Marlon Brando in Listen to Me Marlon.

Legendary

By Ed Rampell

Marlon Brando may have died in 2004 but he has not gone gently into Dylan Thomas’ good night. He’s back!

In the interests of full disclosure your humble scribe should let you know that Brando is his favorite actor. Having said that, Stevan Riley’s great new documentary, Listen to Me Marlon, about the stage and screen legend, is a must-see for viewers interested in film/theater history, the art of acting, celebrity activism and, of course Brando, the man and artist.

Riley had access to a hitherto previously unknown, privately held treasure trove of audiotapes the prolific Brando (an avid ham radio operator, By the way) accumulated over the years for various purposes, including: To prepare and research roles; self-hypnosis; recitations of Shakespeare monologues; etc. These wide-ranging ruminations reflect on: Growing up miserable in Nebraska, the son of alcoholics; Method Acting; Brando’s family; many of his movies; his romantic life; and this activist’s radical politics.

Riley’s documentary explores and expresses the actor’s inner and outer life through the audiotapes, spoken by Brando himself with that distinctive voice -- in effect Brando is posthumously narrating the film, literally having the last word. Of course, there are extensive still photos and clips -- not only from Marlon’s movies, but also of his Stanislavsky Method guru, Stella Adler. Some of those who worked with Brando, such as Bernardo Bertolucci, who directed 1973’s Last Tango in Paris, are also heard.

In archival and news footage we see Brando’s battles in court -- briefly with his ex-wife, Anna Kashfi and their custody clash over their son, Christian Brando and then, unfolding like a Shakespearean tragedy, what Brando called “the messenger of misery” arriving at his home: Christian’s shooting of his Tahitian half-sister Cheyenne’s Polynesian lover, Dag Drollet, at Marlon’s Mulholland Drive perch.

There are also home movies of Brando in happier days at Tahiti and Tetiaroa, the nearby atoll he bought as the reclusive star’s private getaway. Although the documentary, which is generally sympathetic to its subject (perhaps a condition of having access to the tapes and for making the film?), doesn’t go into it, the killing of Dag apparently prevented Brando for the last 15 years or so of his life from returning to French Polynesia, where he would have been under French jurisdiction and subject to questioning. By building a resort at Tetiaroa the oft-contradictory celebrity brought tourists to his supposed refuge. And Brando’s eco-obsession to transform Tetiaroa into an environmental paragon failed, marring the previously pristine paradise with abandoned rotting structures. (I know, I saw them there in the 1990s.)

Among the most absorbing of Marlon’s musings are his political views. The documenatry shows this son of alcoholics and an abusive father developed an inherent sense of identification with outsiders and the man who would play a Mafia chieftain in 1972’s The Godfather maintains he couldn’t stand to see the weak get pushed around. To his credit, in his finest moments Brando used his fame and fortune to support and shine a light on the oppressed. In Listen to Me Marlonthe actor and activist is seen in clips at civil rights events and at the funeral of “Little Bobby Hutton”, the teenaged Black Panther killed by Oakland police in a shootout which involved Eldridge Cleaver. Brando is shown standing beside Panther co-founder and chairman Bobby Seale. Martin Luther King also appears in a different clip.

Brando is better known for his stance on Native American issues, although he once rather pithily pointed out that when it comes to who’s more oppressed -- blacks, Indians, etc. - “it’s not an ouch contest.” Brando is heard recounting putting himself “on the line” during an armed land struggle at Kenosha, Wisconsin, pitting Natives against National Guardsmen, discussing being “four feet from death” as bullets whistled near him.

Of course, in what is arguably the Academy Awards ceremony’s greatest political moment, Brando sent traditionally-garbed Sacheen Little Feather to decline his Godfather Oscar, due to Hollywood’s disparaging treatment of America’s aboriginal people with decades of celluloid stereotypes. Part of this unforgettable moment, which raised the spirits of indigenous occupiers at Wounded Knee and finally gave some airtime to Native Americans, is in Listen to Me Marlon.

Intercut with clips from movies such as John Ford’s 1939 Drums Along the Mohawk, Listen to Me Marlon includes a bearded Brando denouncing Tinseltown’s depiction of Natives as “savages” during a 1970s appearance on Dick Cavett’s ABC-TV talk show, proclaiming: “Everything we are taught about the American Indian [by Hollywood] is wrong. There have been 400 treaties written by the United States, in good faith with the Indians, and every single one of them has been broken. We like to see ourselves as perhaps John Wayne sees us, that we are a country that stands for freedom, for rightness, for justice. It just simply doesn’t apply. And we were the most rapacious, aggressive, destructive, torturing, monstrous people who swept from one coast to the other, murdering and causing mayhem among the Indians.”

Listen to Me Marlon is a stellar, riveting biography. Riley previously directed the first cinema documentary on James Bond and the most lucrative film franchise ever, 2012’s Everything or Nothing, which Passion Pictures also co-produced. But what Brando aficionados may most appreciate is Marlon’s mulling over of acting and his stage and screen career. It’s fascinating to hear Brando reveal what he thought in order to unleash his pent-up explosive rage in A Streetcar Named Desire, which catapulted him to fame on Broadway and then Hollywood. It is an illuminating example of how the Stanislavsky Method works.

 

 

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EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: SEAN BAKER

Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez), Chester (James Ransone) and Alexandra (Mya Taylor) in Tangerine.

The right place

By John Esther

After 28 days in jail, Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) is back on the streets of Hollywood just in time for Christmas Eve. The joy of freedom and a donut is short-lived when her best friend, Alexandra (Mya Taylor), suggests Sin-Dee's boyfriend and pimp, Chester (James Ransone), has been less than faithful. Not one to take others lying with her man (with a woman no less -- "vagina and all"), Sin-Dee goes on a wild hunt for Chester through the unglamorous streets of Hollywood -- with Alexandra reluctantly in tow.

The latest film by director and co-writer Sean Baker (Take Out; Starlet; Prince Hollywood), Tangerine is a film about marginalized people atypically viewed in the media. It also has a lot of energy, compassion and humor.

Baker and director of photographer Radium Cheung also managed to shoot Tangerine with the IPhone 5s, using anamorphic lenses.

In this exclusive interview, we spoke to Baker about his Tangerine.

JEsther Entertainment: Why did you want to make this film?
Sean Baker: I usually answer that question like five years down the line. [Laughs] But I live a half mile from the intersection of Highland Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard and something was telling me there were a lot of great stories to be told. And it was sort of an extension of my previous film, Starlet, where I focused on sex work in a very different world. So I went in there with (co-screenwriter) Chris Bergoch and we just tried meeting people. We met Mya and Kiki, talked to them. Then we started sprinkling stories from our research. Then we wrote our script and presented to the girls for approval.

JE: Did you feel like a voyeur into this subculture even though you live close to it?
SB: To a certain degree, but I didn't want to approach the film from a voyeuristic way in any shape or form. At first I was very much an outsider so it was all about collaborating and doing it properly, because it's the only way for a male like myself to do that.

JE: How did you gain their trust?
SB: This time around I had already made a few films so I could just show them my DVDs and that I was a legitimate filmmaker. When they watched my films they kind of got my sensibility. Mya said, "I trust you. I want to make this film with you, but you have to promise me two things. One, you will show the brutal realism of the streets and what these girls go through on a daily basis. And secondly, you have to make this as funny as hell because there is a lot of humor in this world and we laugh our way through this to cope." Not only am I so happy that I found Mya, who is this wonderful actress, she also really helped me in finding the way to approach the subject.

JE: With regard to the representation of Sin-Dee, who is not a very likable character, what concerns did you have about representing someone like her from the transgender community, who are not, generally, represented well in our media.
SB: People see that we have humanized these characters and that is the most important part. In the end, I, as a filmmaker, all I can say is I approached these characters like I would approach any other person from any other culture or subculture or community. If I was Sin-Dee and my boyfriend was responsible for me going away to jail for 28 days and then I find out he cheated on me, I would be doing the same thing. Sin-Dee is violent; she has violent tendencies. She is reactionary. But at the same time, her behavior is very understandable. Maybe it's not acceptable behavior, but I completely understand where she is coming from.

Director and co-writer Sean Baker.

JE: As far as the characters go, which one do you identify with the most and why?
SB: That's really interesting. I've never been asked that question. Alexandra. From the artist's point of view, her whole play and pay thing came from personal experience.

JE: Why did you set it on Christmas Eve?
SB: It was Chris' idea. He wanted it to be a sort of homage to mainstream Hollywood movies, but subtextually we all associate Christmas with family. Unfortunately, for women in this subculture, usually the only family they have is each other. Then there is the shallow reason: it would give the film more color, more eye candy.

JE: You shot the film using an IPhone. Rather than talk about that, again, would you do it, again?
SB: [Laughs] It was difficult for us to accept because it felt like it was a step back. It felt like we were back to "amateur hour," but I said to everybody going in, "We have to embrace this. If we don't create a new aesthetic from this we're going to fail." Then it came pretty easy. Whether I would do it, again, probably not now. I also mourn the death of celluloid. If I have the budget next time, I will definitely shoot on film.

JE: Lastly, what do you think about these interviews where you talk about yourself and the film? Do they serve the film? Should the film speak for itself?
SB: [Laughs] I sometimes feel that when we talk too much about it, it's a disservice to the movie. But ultimately I understand this is how we get the film out there. It's all about doing right by the movie, the actors and the community we're focusing on. Especially in a film like this, in which semantics is extremely important. In the digital age, it's out there forever. Something that I say today may not be PC in three years, tomorrow.

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FILM REVIEW: THE FOURTH NOBLE TRUTH

Aaron (Henry Hamlin) and Rachel (Kristin Kerr) in The Fouth Noble Truth.

Cessation of sex

By Ed Rampell

Aaron (Harry Hamlin) is a pampered, self-centered movie star who exemplifies the stereotypical self-indulgent Hollywood lifestyle. After a violent episode of road rage (that’s not very well directed), as a condition of staying out of the slammer Aaron attends private Buddhist meditation lessons taught by Rachel (Kristin Kerr), who is also an aspiring actress.

Of course, their relationship begins with a typical Tinseltown “cute meet” that foreshadows what is to come. Skeptical of the whole meditation methodology, Aaron is basically complying with the stipulation to take part in this Buddhist process in order to beat the road-rage rap and avoid serving time. However, Rachel is serious and proceeds to teach Aaron, whether he likes it or not, Buddha’s basic principles so he can discover inner peace and avoid going postal in the future.

Aaron embodies the privileged, egocentric self, while Kristen appears to symbolize spiritual values. Much of The Fourth Noble Truthliterally consists of a dialogue between the two, with their diametrically opposed world views. Aaron is the libertine, Rachel the ascetic. Their interactions are well-acted. However, the level of dialogue in The Fourth Noble Truth is no My Dinner with Andre.

Written and directed by Gary T. McDonald, The Fourth Noble Truth's path to enlightenment is problematic and doesn’t fulfill the promise of its premise. While at first the discussions about the tenets of Buddhism do raise some consciousness and are absorbing and educational, The Fourth Noble Truthquickly runs out of steam. After half an hour the eight or so conversations between Aaron and Rachel become extremely repetitive, boring and preachy.  Moreover, there are onscreen titles to drive the Buddhist points home.

In addition to being aurally dull, the gabfests aren’t even shot with interesting angles. An artist like Orson Welles might have lensed these visually flat vignettes to at least make them optically stimulating.

What’s worse, especially annoying, is that the prim and proper Buddhist tutor is a sexually repressed person using “enlightenment” to hide her inner conflicts and inhibitions. Rachel is no better than those Catholic girls Billy Joel sang about, but she -- who, we’re told, hasn’t had sex for at least three years --- hides behind Buddhism to mask her suppressed sexuality. Apparently, she's another holier-than-thou stick-in-the-mud misusing religion as a rationalization for her sexual repression (to wit, see the Duggar Family scandal as a more extreme example of this abuse of faith). In one of The Fourth Noble Truth'searly scenes, after watching a DVD starring Aaron, Rachel starts to fantasize about having sex with him. But Rachel is so uptight that not only does she stop herself from having an affair with the star, but from even allowing herself to masturbate. Instead of meditation, Rachel could use some masturbation.

Hardly a role model, in a Q&A with the talent after a private screening of The Fourth Noble Truth, Kerr actually expressed being irritated at her sexually frustrated character. Like most pedants, Rachel isn’t as knowledgeable about the secrets and meaning of life as she pretends to be. Rachel is a know-it-all who desperately needs some carnal knowledge, and it’s frankly annoying and gets on some nerves (including of said actress) that she’s cloaking herself in proverbial Buddhist robes to disguise her dysfunction.

And, as said, the low budget indy’s repetitive will-they/won’t-they and verbal sparring about her hang-ups becomes tiresome and extremely redundant. In the hands of a better screenwriter, Rachel’s actual lack of insight and enlightenment could have been developed more -- like the hypocritical missionary in the classic short story, Rain. McDonald is no W. Somerset Maugham.

Beneath its Buddhist veneer, The Fourth Noble Truth is yet another autumn-male/summer-female flick. This feature will most likely appeal to those interested in and acolytes of Buddhism and various techniques of meditation. But most moviegoers will probably feel this verbose exercise in didacticism, with its ignoble protagonists, fails to dramatize its path to higher consciousness.


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DWF 2015: ACTOR FOR HIRE

Jessie (Jessie O'Neill) in Actor for Hire.

Lost in Los Angeles

By Miranda Inganni

Jessie (Jessie O’Neill) is a young, conventionally attractive, ostensibly talented white actor who just can’t seem to land a role, much less catch a break in Marcus Mizelle’s Actor for Hire. Whether it is due to his baldness or his acting skills is up for debate, but Jessie dons a wig and immediately lands the next role for which he auditions. Upon discovering that his live-in girlfriend (Hollie Shay) is cheating on him, he quickly finds a room in an apartment with the casting director from his most recent, successful audition. What follows is a whole bunch of silliness wherein truth is obfuscated to one degree or another.

Why do so many people lie in Hollywood? What is it about the entertainment industry that causes people to falsify their appearances/ages/backgrounds/etc.? These questions are not ever considered, yet Actor for Hire satirizes many of these aspects of the industry. Jessie’s new do so transforms the man that his new best friend, major film star, Joel (Joel Hogans – perhaps a long-lost Hemsworth brother) does not realize that his hirsute bud is the same as the bald cocktail server at Joel’s house party. (A party, by the by, where lies are further perpetuated by the many champagne flutes filled with what appears to be water – a classic and cheap film fib.)

Where the film -- written, directed and co-produced (with Jillian Longnecker) by Mizelle -- succeeds in furthering the subterfuge (intentionally or not) is in the exterior shots with Los Angeles as the backdrop. Those unfamiliar with the scenery might not realize just how long it would take to walk from Downtown Los Angeles to Hollywood to Chinatown, but it is shot like it would be a matter of minutes; the fact they visit KJ’s diner in Westerchester when they live over 50 miles away in a Los Feliz neighborhood also raises an eye.

While there are some clever moments, Actor for Hire sometimes feels like it is unsure of its own identity as a film. It could have gone a little bit further in feeling like a low budget, high camp flick. Or swung in the opposite direction and taken itself more seriously. But the moral of the story remains the same: you have a better chance of success if you are true to yourself.

 

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FILM REVIEW: SHOWGIRLS 2

Penny/Helga (Rena Riffel) in Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven.

Bore to culture

 

By John Esther

 

The follow-up to the notorious 1995, Showgirls, Showgirls 2: Penny’s from Heaven is actually better than its predecessor insofar as the original was not made to be the laughingstock, cult movie it has become whereas Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven is intentionally, unabashedly bad in order to satire wannabe movie stars, the entertainment industry and yes, its predecessor. In other words, it is so bad it is good.

 

Somewhat reprising her role from the original film directed by Paul Verhoeven and written by Joe Eszterhas (one of the worst Hollywood screenwriters ever), Rena Riffel wrote and directed this story about a Las Vegas stripper named Penny (Riffel -- now old enough to play an aging showgirl) who dreams of moving to Hollywood and becoming the star of a new dance show. Penny has no talent, formal training. or “X Factor,” but that is not going to stop this “whore,” “slut,” “trash,” “stripper,” and “bimbo” from making it.

 

However, just getting to Los Angeles is not easy. On the road west, Penny is robbed, then entangled in a multiple homicide.

 

Once in Los Angeles, Penny meets all sorts of egomaniacs, abusers, exploiters and television producers (but I repeat myself) who just want Penny, whose new name (sometimes) is Helga, for her flesh. Yet the whore with a heart of gold still believes in herself and those around her – no matter how many times they use her. Meanwhile, the authorities are on her track.

 

Deliberately pumped with histrionics, painstaking inane dialogue, soap operatic Sapphic sexual scenes, and editorial discontinuity that are outrageously tongue-in-cheek(s), the 145-minute film -- which definitely takes its toll on one’s patience (occasionally one’s feminism, too) -- makes the films of John Waters look like the work of Michelangelo Antonioni. Okay, I exaggerate for the billionth time, but so does just about everything in this hyperbolic striptease of wannabe stardom in Hollywood to make its point.

 

 

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TRIBECA 2012: ANY DAY NOW

A scene from Any Day Now.

Cumming Undone

By Don Simpson

Set in Los Angeles, 1979 and inspired by a true story, Any Day Now follows the trials and tribulations of a gay couple who fight for custody of a teenager with Down syndrome.

Paul (Garret Dillahunt) is a straight-laced, closeted deputy district attorney who falls in love with Rudy (Alan Cumming), a flamboyant, lip syncing drag queen. When Rudy's drug-addled neighbor abandons her son, Marco (Isaac Leyva), Rudy takes in the Down syndrome teen; then, while petitioning for custody of Marco, Paul takes in Rudy and Marco to provide them with more stability. (In an effort to remain in the closest, Paul tells everyone that Rudy
is his cousin.)

It is not long before Paul, Rudy and Marco are a happy nuclear family. For the first time in his life, Marco has loving and nurturing parents. He even begins to flourish in school. But it is also not long before Paul and Rudy find themselves in court, fighting for their parental rights once again.

At the root of Any Day Now is an unwavering message of treating everyone equally, despite their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, economic status or medical condition; and writer-director Travis Fine even practices what he preaches in the production of Any Day Now. Being that Hollywood prefers to cast
straight actors in gay roles, it is refreshing to see an openly gay actor (Cumming) get the lead in Any Day Now -- an inspiring performance that is one of the best of his career. It is equally impressive that Fine casts an actor with Down syndrome (Isaac Leyva) to portray Marco.

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FILM REVIEW: NEW YEAR'S EVE

A scene from New Year's Eve.

Should all films be so rotten

By Don Simpson

Valentine’s Day is a cruel and bitter reminder that film critics do not wield much influence — at least in certain realms of cinema — because even though Valentine’s Day is scoring a lowly 18% on Rotten Tomatoes it went on to gross $214,976,776 and New Line Cinema deemed it worthy of a sequel (an extremely loose concept of a sequel at that). What does this say about film criticism and their relationship to film audiences? Not much. People were going to see trash like Valentine’s Day no matter what critics said about it, just as people are also going to see New Year’s Eve regardless of my review.

Fans of Valentine’s Day — whomever those poor suckers are — will probably scream that a highfalutin critic such as myself is inherently biased against films like New Year’s Eve; and, admittedly, I did enter the screening of New Year’s Eve assured that I would hate it. Considering my excruciatingly low opinion of Valentine’s Day, I figured that the odds were somewhat in favor of New Year’s Eve being a little bit better… But… Heavens to Murgatroyd! It turns out that New Year’s Eve is a mindless clusterfuck of ridiculousness!

Thanks to the relentless barrage of characters (most with fleeting roles that would normally be described as cameos) and no narrative to speak of (people are in love, people are dying, people are having babies, the ball at Times Square is stuck, blah blah blah…), writing a brief synopsis of New Year’s Eve is impossible. As with Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve relies so much on Hollywood stereotypes and tropes that anyone can flawlessly determine how each character’s storyline will end within minutes of their introduction. New Year’s Eve serves two purposes: to showcase a menagerie of Hollywood stars as if mere mannequins on a conveyor belt and to provide a few forced opportunities for Jon Bon Jovi to sing a few songs on screen.

It is quite fitting that Hollywood still churns out thoughtless, assembly line holiday films like Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve, since it is Hollywood that created the myths behind these holidays in the first place. The situations and dialogue (more like mindless dribble) found within Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve are by no means realistic — trust me, this stuff only happens in the movies. I am not a trained psychiatrist, but I suspect that the reason so many people get depressed during holidays like Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve is because they cannot live up to the unrealistic expectations set by Hollywood. I will leave you with one question: Why do people watch these films if, in the end, these films are just going to make them feel like shit?

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LAFF 2011: THE SEDUCTION OF INGMAR BERGMAN

The booklet of The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman.

Sparks fly 

By Miranda Inganni

Probably the event of 2011 Los Angeles Film Festival, on Saturday night at the Ford Amphitheatre the musical group Sparks (Kimono My House) and film director Guy Madden (The Saddest Music in the World) presented The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman.

Based on an original story, written and staged by Sparks' Ron and Russell Mael and directed by Madden, the performance was based on the eponymous 2009 album by Sparks, which chronicles the imaginary travels and temptations of Swedish auteur, Ingmar Bergman (Wild Strawberries), on an imaginary trip to Hollywood, California.

It's 1950-something and a Hollywood film mogul (Russell) has the idea to lure Bergman (Peter Franzen) to Tinseltown to direct blockbusters. He sends limos and ladies to help convince the practical quintessential existentialSwede. While black-clad minions move scenery in the shadows, back at his Hollywood headquarters Bergman tosses and turns on his upright, red-sheeted bed, all the while contemplating his next move or movie.

The brothers Mael are pitch-perfect (in every sense of the term) and Franzen turns in a great(ly), conflicted Bergman. Should the writer-director stay to enjoy the warm weather yet endure the torment of tourists, or return home to a chilly climate yet critical acclaim (a lá his Cannes Festival win for Smiles Of a Summer Night)?

With Warhol-colored images projected on the screen behind the action, this brilliant bit of deconstructed musical theater is like a hyper staged reading -- all of it worth a viewing, seeing, listening and experiencing.

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