An art film about art films.

I liked Nobody Walks from director Ry Russo-Young who cowrote the screenplay with Lena Dunham. But I'm not exactly sure why I liked it. Maybe it was because this is a movie that embraces light. And I'm not talking about big, Hollywood light that requires tons of equipment and electricity. I'm talking about warm, rich, intense California light.  This movie captures so much natural, beautiful light it's unlike any movie I've seen in a long time. Shooting with available light never looked so good.

Then again, I may have liked this movie because of the sound design. If there's one thing Sundance 2012 proved, it's that sound design matters. And this movie delivers wonderful sound. I guess it had to. After all, it's a movie about a young artist who visits the friend of a friend to get help creating the sound design for her latest art film. The art film within the art film is gorgeous and the sound design is even more luscious. It may be my favorite part of the movie.

Which leads us to the movie's plot. The young, female artist moves into the home of a successful California family. She;s not just sexy, she's strangely desirable. That means the entire family is thrown into chaos. The daughter is jealous. The young son is turned on. The husband does her. The wife wants to do her but can't because she's so pissed off at her husband. And that doesn't include the plot lines for the secondary characters.

Nobody Walks is a Sundance film that proves independent filmmakers are achieving new heights. It wasn't my favorite movie at this year's festival. But it's hard not to like this beautiful movie.

The war on the war on drugs.

Eugene Jarecki's documentary The House I Live In will likely make you mad. Plenty of people in the theater shifted uncomfortably in their seats, groaned with anger, even hissed at the screen. And with good reason. Jarecki does a great job of laying out his premise that the "war on drugs" isn't working and in fact is hurting many Americans. He also convincingly demonstrates that those being harmed the most are minorities and the poor. All the while, politicians and the incarceration industry benefit.

Jarecki works hard to keep partisanship out of the film. That's one of the reasons The House I Live In succeeds. Sure, I have a lot of conservative friends who would balk at some of the ideas expressed in the movie. And I'll bet Jarecki leans to the left politically. But this movie would make just about anyone angry with the crazy way we've dealt with the problem of drugs in society. The House I Live In makes you want to take action to change the system and alleviate injustice.

While Jarecki's passion for his subject matter ensures the movie communicates the right messages, it also works to the film's detriment. This is a long documentary.  OK so it's 110 minutes which may not seem unduly long. But key points are hammered home multiple times in slightly different ways.  It gives the movie a feeling of redundancy. I was often bored.

That said, I wish Sundance would head to Washington, D.C. and set up shop on Capitol Hill. They could show socially relevant documentaries like The House I Live In. Maybe, just maybe, it might help advance the cause for change that matters.

Never retreat. Retweet.

The two movies I wanted to see most at this year's Sundance Film Festival were both about contemporary art. Marina Abramovic The Artist is Present is a stunning view of art as performance. Art as protest is the central theme in Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry from director Alison Klayman. While completely different in look and feel than the Abramovic documentary, this movie is just as engaging.

Klayman, who if I had to guess is only in her late twenties, does a great job of balancing the movie's focus between Ai Weiwei's gallery art and his more esoteric protest art. She tracks the artists attempts to identify all of the schoolchildren killed in the 2008 Sichuan earthquake.  Weiwei takes on this task because the Chinese government refuses to provide the information amid public outcry that the schools were built without necessary precautions to prevent earthquake damage. The artist tracks his efforts on his blog, becoming a hero of many working Chinese.

When the government shuts down his blog, Ai Weiwei turns to twitter to continue his criticism of the Chinese authorities and their lack of transparency. In the end, the artist is imprisoned for several months and still is not allowed to leave Beijing. While many have spoken about the power of social media in the Arab Spring uprisings, few seem to mention its importance in places like China. I'm glad this movie explores the value of social media in China, because I found this example even more compelling.

But Ai Weiwei isn't just an activist, he's also an artist. And Klayman's film is more interesting because she provides insight into the artist's history and follows him as he works on some of his largest projects. The context provided by the film makes Ai Weiwei's work more compelling. On the surface, 100 million hand-painted porcelain sunflower seeds spread across the floor of London's Tate Modern may seem like just another meaningless Art-world stunt. But with the right context, it might be a commentary on China's working class and the issues they face. Smashing Chinese antiquities could be another bad-boy artist's attempt to shock the world and gain publicity. Or maybe it's a defiant reminder that old ideas need to change.

Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry is a movie with enough content that just about everyone will find something that will speak to them personally. And, like me, I'll bet you'll leaving the theater committed to being more courageous and more willing to stand strong in the face of authority.

Sundance Film Festival; Chilean edition.

The Sundance Film Festival's dedication to global movies is legendary. That means it's hard to get through a festival without seeing several foreign films. The first of my 2012 festival is Violeta Went to Heaven from director Andres Wood and screenwriter Eliseo Altunaga. This is a biopic about Violeta Parra, a Chilean folksinger and pop icon. She'd qualify in the "national treasure" category for her dedication to expressing the soul of Chile by championing its traditional music. And according to the movie, she also somehow had her artwork shown at the Louvre simply by walking in and asking them to show her work.  Let's just say I'm skeptical about the authenticity of this scene in the movie.

In the spirit of successful Sundance movies (particularly this year), Violeta is a tortured artist and the movies takes us through her trials and travails until she ultimately (SPOILER ALERT) takes her own life.  This is a fine movie. Nothing more. Nothing less. The acting's fine. The direction's fine. I can't tell you what I don't like about it. I can't tell you what I do like. It just seems to be. I wouldn't add it to my Netflix queue.

The artist is indeed present.

You may recall that back in 2010 I went to see a retrospective at MoMA of the work of performance artist Marina Abramovic called The Artist Is Present.  You can read what I had to say here. I liked the show for the questions it raised about the role of performance art in the greater historical context.  So you can imagine how excited I was when I learned that a documentary about the exhibit was screening at Sundance.

The documentary was almost as engaging as the exhibit itself. HBO has always taken the art of the documentary seriously and this is no exception.  For a year, Matthew Akers and his crew were given access to Abramovic as she planned the show and then executed the performance. The result is Marina Abramovic The Artist Is Present, a brilliant look at the mind of a history-changing artist.

I took so much away from this documentary.  I'll highlight three of those things here. First, this movie reinforces the questions raised by the original exhibition; what is the value of performance art in the entire history of art?  I commented in my original review of the exhibit, "As I've frequently said, 'No one's ever going to have a major retrospective of a performance artist.'  I guess MoMA decided it was time to prove me wrong." The filmmakers decided to really prove me wrong. I'm now convinced Abramovic has demonstrated performance art will exert its importance in art history.


The second thing this movie confirmed for me is how crazy Abramovic's performance at MoMA was.  I thought it was crazy when I saw the work. For three months, Abramovic spent seven to ten hours a day, six days a week sitting still in a chair and looking into the eyes of strangers. I can't imagine undertaking such a monumental task. This movie forces viewers to realize the physical demands required to complete this stunning performance piece, especially for a woman in her 60s.


The third thing I'll highlight from Marina Abramovic The Artist Is Present is the big surprise. It seems like all my favorite movies at this year's Sundance Film Festival have involved surprises.  Having read about Abramovic's work for years, and having experienced her MoMA retrospective, I was sure I had a pretty good idea of what Marina Abramovic would be like in person. This movie shattered that image.  I expected a strict, cold intense persona who would never let her guard down. Turns out Abramovic is an intoxicating, sparkling presence who laughs her way through life. That charm was a devious element that allowed the filmakers to give the documentary unexpected warmth.  When I saw The Artist Is Present at MoMA I took away a message of endurance and an attempt to force the world to slow down. But seeing this film, I realized it was much more. It's a work about connecting with our fellow human beings. About sharing our happiness and our sadness. It asks us to stop, take a deep breath, and look deep into the eyes of someone who might need a few moments of understanding.


I could go on and on about this movie. Instead, I'll suggest you subscribe to HBO and wait anxiously for it to show up on your DVR record list. That said, I can't end this post without one last huge surprise. I've been complaining that at this year's Sundance, SLC has been forgotten with virtually no visits from filmmakers or talent.  Imagine my surprise when, at a screening I was sure would be without a post-film discussion, Marina Abramovic walked down the aisle of the theater and once again engaged the audience. Her charming, passionate, and angry responses to audience questions have made me a believer; the importance of performance art in the art history is now confirmed.

SPOILER ALERT: Simon is a jerk!

Antonio Campos's Simon Killer is classic Sundance. It's got plenty of indie-film cliches to ensure it has significant Park City street cred. A plot that unfolds slowly . . . really slowly? Check. A tragic yet vulnerable prostitute? Check. Multiple masturbation scenes? Check. Charming American creep tormenting the women of a foreign country? Check. Raunchy sex, hip soundtrack, chain smoking, drugs, and seizure-inducing strobe effects? Check, check, check check, and check. Is it just me, or is there at least one screening a year where the volunteers have to break out the "this movie contains strobe lights" signs?

Even with all those classic indie chestnuts, Simon Killer lacked the necessary goods to guarantee Sundance mega-hit status. That doesn't mean there isn't plenty to like about the film. This is a beautiful movie. The direction and cinematography are so tightly integrated that the movie brings real innovation to the art film. Frequently the scenes are cropped so that you don't see the actors heads and faces, just their torsos.  And much of the movie is shot following the actors from behind, again obscuring the their faces.  You'd think this would make it difficult to connect with the characters. Instead these directorial choices create unnerving tension that heightens the movie's intrigue.

I also liked the lead actors. Brady Corbett as Simon is charming and sexy.  You can see how the women of Paris might fall for his quirky good looks and strange friendliness. And Mati Diop is perfect as the tragic yet vulnerable prostitute. I'll bet we'll see them both again at Sundance.

But all the good of Simon Killer can't seem to overcome the bad. I found the whole affair tedious. Even scenes I liked ultimately bored me because they dragged on endlessly. Take the scene where Simon is at a club dancing with his latest Parisian conquests. At first the music and Corbett's dancing and the crowd intoxicated me. But as it continued, it lost its luster and diminished the effect.

It will be interesting to see if this film finds distribution.

Dole needs a better PR strategy.

As a holder of a degree in PR, I ask every PR instructor in America to please show your classes Swedish filmmaker Fredrik Gertten's Big Boys Gone Bananas!*. This Sundance documentary may not be the best film at the festival.  But it might be the best case study of what big, American companies should NOT do from a PR perspective.

Big Boys Gone Bananas!* is the story of how Dole reacted to Gertten's earlier film, Bananas which looked at the use of pesticides in the banana industry and how it may have affected workers.  Dole wasn't happy about the film and went after Gertten, the LA Film Festival, and just about anyone else they could think of. With plenty of lawsuits, Dole broke out its legal muscle. Unfortunately, Gertten's tiny film company didn't back down.  The result? Dole comes off as the behemoth corporate entity picking on the little guy, and probably not being terribly honest in the process.  It appears that the company hadn't even seen the documentary in question before they started exercising their significant legal power.

This isn't a documentary that will have you raving as you leave the theater.  But it will have you shaking your head about Dole's lack of street smarts. You'll also have a great deal of respect for Fredrik Gertten and his willingness to play the role of David to Dole's Goliath. That makes Big Boys Gone Bananas!* a film worth seeing, even if you're not in a PR class.