Film Movement DVD Collection Review – Beyond Borders: Stories of Interfaith Friendship (Arranged; A Bottle in the Gaza Sea; Foreign Letters)

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Beyond Borders
Faces of Israel

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Released alongside Film Movement's Faces of Israel four-disc film collection of works which offer viewers a snapshot of the complexity and diversity of life in contemporary Israel, the companion box set Beyond Borders celebrates the differences that unite and divide us in a humanistic trio of titles set in the United States as well as the topical region.

But rather than take you through them alphabetically or chronologically, I'm taking a cue from the films included in Borders to go beyond the expected – serving up a review of the titles in the order I'd recommend watching them for the greatest cinematic impact.

 

Foreign Letters (2012)
Directed by Ela Thier

Although it’s included alongside A Bottle in the Gaza Sea, Ela Thier’s largely autobiographical effort Foreign Letters makes a first-rate companion film to the thematically similar, likewise female (co)directed tale Arranged which seems to continue on with the thesis of intercultural female friendship established in Letters.

Easily the best starting place in the Beyond Borders box set celebrating interfaith friendships from the Film Movement catalog, the work chronicles Thier’s own adolescent struggles to navigate life in a new nation where she could barely speak the language.

As the sweet, succinct, 1982-set story begins, the twelve-year-old Ellie (Noa Rotstein) writes what the audience quickly gathers is just the latest in an ongoing series of letters from America to her “best friend times infinity” back in her former Israeli home.

Charting the timeless struggle of not fitting in to not knowing where to sit at lunch, Thier takes a cue from the Peanuts specials of yesteryear by translating the English language instructions of Ellie’s everyday teacher (outside the ESL classroom) into veritable gibberish in her feature-length adaptation of her acclaimed short A Summer Rain (which is also included on the DVD).

Thier’s subtle portrait of coming-of-age in a brand new country slowly but steadily picks up momentum as Ellie finds a friend in a fellow outsider via the Vietnamese refugee Thuy (Dalena Le).

Shy and studious as well as just as self-conscious as Ellie, the two girls begin testing the waters of a fledgling friendship that was initially forged out of loneliness and necessity before they soon discover that their differences are nowhere near as important as their similarities.

Educating themselves about life in their new surroundings, the girls balance one another out while also giving each other the vital self-confidence they need to stop hiding in the shadows of a school that isn’t nearly as ready to accept them as they are ready to accept both each other as well as everyone else.

While it’s a bit structurally underwhelming as we get the feeling that Thier wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the production’s full ninety-nine minute running time (versus the original seventeen minute short which also utilized the same talented young leads), Letters nonetheless manages to overcome the bumps in the road to leave a lasting impression.

Furthermore, the film’s sheer authenticity elevates Thier's work as a timeless portrait of female adolescent existential angst that resonates as strongly today as we imagine it would've if released in its original 1982 time period.

Thus in spite of a floundering middle act that gets bogged down with somewhat episodic plotting, we're more than willing to take a cue from Ellie and give it some time to find its way.

A moving and sensitive salute to the importance of human connection as well as a completely preach-free reminder that we’re all humans with the same wants, needs, fears, laughter, and tears regardless of our language or homeland, Thier’s autobiographical cinematic journey results in one of the best family friendly offerings in the entire Film Movement catalog.

Reminding viewers of the rewards that await us when we dare to look past the popular lunch table of cliquish Twilight style commercial friendly studio fare, Foreign Letters serves as an excellent “starter” picture to introduce middle school students to the world of international filmmaking by way of characters they can relate to that likewise have something of quality to say.

 

A Bottle in the Gaza Sea (2011)
Directed by Thierry Binisti

Adapting a work from the “tell me” medium of literature to the “show me” medium of film is difficult enough as it is without even considering the fact that for the title in question, the story unfolds largely through the written word as the most pivotal sequences revolve around the sending and receipt of e-mail messages.

Of course, considering that the characters at the heart of A Bottle in the Gaza Sea are a French born seventeen-year-old Israeli girl (Agathe Bonitzer) and a twenty-year-old Palestinian boy (Mahmoud Shalabi) who found her cyber address included in the titular bottle, it’s safe to say that Gaza isn’t your typical pen pal saga.

Wanting to make sense of all of the suicide bombings that occur on her side of the water, the beautiful idealist Tal sends her query out to the unknown via her older brother who’s able to hurl the bottle into the Gaza Sea while carrying out his required military service.

What begins as a heated, blame-filled exchange of sarcasm and oft-heard clichéd generalizations gradually blossoms into something much more substantive as the two share their thoughts, typed snapshots of daily life, and later actual photographs that make them realize that if they’d met anywhere else under ordinary circumstances there’s a pretty strong likelihood that they would’ve become friends.

Part of the three disc Beyond Borders collection crafted to explore interfaith relationships, while Bottle might hold up well on its own, unfortunately when viewed alongside the other two vastly superior titles included in the set, it’s the weakest entry in an otherwise staggeringly impressive triple feature.

While the thematically similar Foreign Letters is much more natural in its approach, the admirable effort put forth by filmmaker Thierry Binisti to capture both points-of-view and likewise evoke empathy for each character (while simultaneously pulling you in two totally different directions) makes the film seem much better than it actually is in the end.

An unapologetically hopeful work that’s bogged down by awkward performances and emotionless English language line-reads by its young actors (which should've been subtitled along with its foreign dialogue), Bottle is an otherwise well-intentioned attempt to translate Valerie Zenatti’s award-winning novel to the screen.

Though you wish the final result would've been far more compelling, Bottle stays afloat – getting better as it continues – which results in a surprisingly moving final sequence that’s guaranteed to stay with you.

Largely wordless and therefore much more effective at conveying the real unspoken bond between the characters as two kids who connected (versus the filmic opportunities to take advantage of politically correct speechmaking), the gorgeous depiction of idealism and acceptance butting heads with bureaucracy conveys everything the filmmaker was trying to say in its memorable conclusion.

As it stands, it’s a lovely throwback to the same spirit of youthful rebellion tempered by the futility of circumstance found in the final frames of ‘50s and ‘60s French New Wave cinema (followed by the British and American pictures it influenced for a majority of the late '60s and '70s).

Moreover it’s further proof of not only Binisti’s artistry but another reminder to those adapting novels in the future that there is indeed a better way to tell the story than through too many voice-overs and shots of inboxes on computer screens.
   

 

Arranged (2007)
Directed by Diane Crespo and Stefan Schaefer

Review: (Originally Published 5/1/08)

"Someone should be shooting a commercial for world peace," fourth grade teacher Nasira Khaldi (Francis Benhamou) jokes to her coworker turned friend Rochel Meshenberg (Zoe Lister-Jones) when the two women bump into one another in a New York park and encourage their younger relatives to play together.

It’s a recurring joke throughout the inviting, original and warmhearted American independent film Arranged that focuses on two young women in their early twenties who, despite their religious differences as a Muslim (Nasira) and an Orthodox Jew (Rochel), are both dealing with similar issues of parental pressure and familial obligation in the quest to marry the two teachers off.

In Rochel's case, this tradition calls for utilizing the talents of a matchmaker who pitches men to her client as if she’s selling automobiles by evaluating their job performance, sustainability and prominence. However for Nasira, it’s a bit more laid back as their father invites over a much older family friend in the hopes that his young daughter will find love with an uncouth gentleman prone to chatting animatedly with food in his mouth.

Meanwhile Rochel contends with a series of disastrous matchups including a painfully awkward first encounter with a man who acts as though he’d rather voluntarily show up for a root canal than a date, along with one man who lets himself into the place and proceeds to snoop through everything while running at the mouth his own sales pitch covering his accomplishments.

Both targets from their female principal who, in trying to compliment their beauty patronizes their beliefs by offering them money to go out and buy designer clothes and have a drink to start taking advantage of the women’s movement, the two modestly dressed new teachers sit singularly at tables away from the more daring and cliquish women their age at the school.

However, the film's leads really hit it off when children question whether or not they hate one another because of what they’ve heard on the news.

In offering the students a unity circle exercise, Rochel and Nasira conduct their own diversity celebration that seems to be far more accessible than the perfunctory district mandated training shown at the start of the film. Sure enough as the women begin spending more time together away from work, they realize they have far more in common than they first assumed.

Touchingly authentic and believably executed, directors Diane Crespo and Stefan Schaefer’s appealing film was a hit in the film festival circuit.

An official selection at the South by Southwest Film Festival and the Miami Jewish Film Festival, Arranged earned the audience award at Berkshire International Film Festival as well as the Grand Chameleon Award for Best Narrative Feature at the 2007 Brooklyn International Film Festival before making its way to DVD from our friends at Film Movement.

Text ©2014, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. http://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique.

The Jaguar

You'd have more fun in a Gremlin.

“Indian magic is no holiday,” Jean Campana (Jean Reno) exclaims nearly midway into writer/director Francis Veber’s mirthless comedy, The Jaguar. And boy, it turns out that he wasn’t kidding. Veber, a master at unlikely buddy comedies and mistaken identities for more than three decades of filmmaking (including La Cage Aux Folles, La Chevre, Le Grand Blond Avec Une Chaussure Noire, and Les Compères) has provided endless fodder for American remakes (respectively The Birdcage, Pure Luck, The Man With One Red Shoe, and Father’s Day). Unfortunately, he misses the mark in his last action/comedy before he again found his footing with a string of popular hits such as The Dinner Game, The Closet, and The Valet (all of which have been subject to remake rumors and contracts).

It’s highly unlikely an American version of The Jaguar will ever see the light of day and frankly, director Veber would probably be the first one to admit that that’s for the best. While sitting down with IndieWire reporter Brandon Judell several years back to discuss The Closet, he admitted that not only did the film-- originally titled Le Jaguar-- fail to earn a stateside release but also he confessed that, “it was not very good.”

Sadly, that’s an understatement as this excruciatingly bizarre mixture of several half-baked plots combusts about thirty minutes into its roughly ninety-minute running time, making the last hour a test of one’s endurance to withstand indisputable trash of the highest order. Veber himself pinpointed the problem directly, arguing that, “when I try to make films that look like American films, they’re not interesting. I tried that. I tried to make an action movie, and we’re not gifted for that. You are better than us in that area.” By noting the cultural differences in filmmaking in France verses America, he does offer an ingenious hypothetical, saying that “if we could mix the systems, having this intellectual approach that the French have and having this entertaining obligation that the Americans have, the result would be the perfect movie.” While no doubt that would’ve helped The Jaguar immensely, Mr. Veber has plenty of perfect films on his resume to bounce back from, as does the film’s leading man Jean Reno. My admiration for these two men provided the two very reasons that I found myself ignoring Veber’s own warning and plunging headfirst into the action/comedy recently released on DVD by Koch Entertainment and SKD.

Obviously inspired by not only the Indiana Jones series but additionally Romancing the Stone and The Jewel of the Nile, Veber introduces us to a mysterious, elderly Indian shaman named Wanu (Harrison Lowe) currently on a PR humanitarian tour to save his beloved Amazon rainforest. Reno’s Campana who serves as Wanu’s assistant/babysitter/interpreter finds he’s in way over his head when Wanu take an inexplicable liking to a stranger they share a Parisian elevator with, Francois Perrin (Patrick Bruel).

One hundred thousand dollars in debt, the freeloading gambler Perrin tries to sweet talk an old flame into loaning him enough money to pay off the mobster loan sharks who have purchased his debt but instead of a check, he forms an unlikely friendship with Wanu who stows away on Perrin’s Jeep and follows him home. After phoning Campana to come pick up the shaman, Perrin sums up his bad luck with a classically penned Veber quip: “What a night. I go out for big bucks and come back with an old Indian.” Wanu, who feels a strange and intense spiritual bond with Perrin, quickly decides that although they don’t speak the same language, in the poker player he has encountered “The Chosen One.” And in the increasingly peculiar events that follow as Veber continually asks us to suspend our disbelief until finally the entire film is incomprehensible and unintentionally hilarious, the fatally ill Wanu depends on his strange new acquaintance to journey deep into the heart of the Amazon forest alongside Campana in order to rescue his “stolen soul.” By now, let's just say I was thinking that it's a damn shame that Mystery Science Theatre 3000 isn't still on the air.

Of course, while Perrin mistakenly leaps at the chance to escape the mobsters, he soon realizes that life in the jungle is far more dangerous than any loan shark, once they venture into the strange land and deadly adventures ensue within the first hour of their arrival. Whether they’re trying to fight off the evil Kumare (Danny Trejo), whom Campana states is a man so evil that he’s a “disaster for the whole planet,” a.k.a. the suspect most likely to have hijacked Wanu’s soul, Veber further muddies up the ludicrous set-up by adding in the beautiful Patricia Velasquez as Perrin’s love interest Maya.

Yet no matter how much mayhem the characters find themselves in, we constantly realize it’s not just the heroes but our director who has completely lost the map as they meander from one ridiculous set-up to another illogical one, and all the while the audience wishes (no doubt as much as Veber, Reno and all involved) that he would’ve played his winning hand and dealt us a comedy of manners instead of a comedy of magic.

Transferred to disc in the original widescreen format with the ability to hear the original French language track (highly preferable) complete with English language subtitles or the redubbed English audio version where the voices sound far too similar, the only other feature available on the newly released DVD is trailers for other projects from the company.

And while, like me, all of the Veber and Reno fans out there will no doubt be tempted to give it a whirl, you’re better off following the talented writer/director’s advice and sticking with the action comedies of Spielberg and company if the mood strikes you or Veber’s own witty odes to wordplay as evidenced in one of his masterpieces such as The Dinner Game or The Closet.

Duck (2005)

Director:
Nic Bettauer




As I’m sure that Michael Moore will attest, one of the greatest challenges in setting out to make a "message movie" is that, no matter how admirable your intentions may be, you have to fight the urge to preach while reconciling the best way to tell the story. And while at least Moore has the advantage of working in the realm of nonfiction documentary filmmaking — despite critical accusations to the contrary — it’s far more difficult when you’re working in the field of narrative fiction features. For proof, look no further than writer/director Nic Bettauer’s award-winning festival favorite Duck.

The overwhelmingly melancholy Duck is set in the dystopian, not-so-distant future of 2009 where, under the rule of Commander-in-Chief Jeb Bush, social security has been abolished, recycling programs have been canceled, and public parks have been converted to landfills.

In hoping to avert the overwhelming sadness of the picture which opens with the plotted suicide of the elderly, widowed Arthur (Philip Baker Hall), Bettauer employs, as she notes in an exclusive DVD interview, a “slightly skewed absurdist [sense of] humor.” The initial result is surprisingly fresh and, given the dire opening, desperately welcome as Arthur changes his deadly plans when an intervention is staged by an unlikely source, namely a small baby duck who wanders over to our hapless hero. Having lost his entire family, the duck, who is later renamed Joe by Arthur, mistakes the human for his mother and eagerly charmed by his new feathered friend, Arthur ignores his landlord’s rule of no animals or plants and takes him to his apartment.

In the first of several irresistibly sweet-natured and charming sequences, Arthur tries to adapt to the duck and become a good host for his roommate. Initially filling his floor with papers including comics Arthur assumes will amuse Joe, he soon gives up upon realizing Joe has a mind of his own. Having offered shelter, Arthur proceeds to look after the rest of Joe’s immediate needs, by trying to tempt him with a variety of edible treats from popcorn to salad until remembering the old adage that everyone likes bread. Entertaining Joe with a beloved Tchaikovsky record and an impromptu picnic, the two become fast friends and bunk buddies and the exceptionally lonely Arthur sums it up best when he tells Joe, “I’m really glad you’re here,” since it makes him feel like he is, too. Soon Joe grows into a bigger duck and, after developing an allergy problem, Arthur helps ease his roommate’s sinuses by bathing him with bath salts to cure a sneezing fit.

However, just as quickly as Arthur makes the impulsive decision to bring Joe into his solitary life, the lovable tone of the film is speedily abandoned in favor of cruelly depicted, forced satire, and unrelenting darkness after the landlord Arthur's known his entire life, evicts him from the apartment, sending Arthur and Joe to the streets. While their ultimate goal is to head for the sea, along the way adventures ensue.

Unfortunately, instead of continuing in the same nearly improvisational, friendly set-up Bettauer teased us with in Arthur’s one-on-one scenes with Joe, the film derails completely. Ultimately, the last hour of Duck evolves into a clichéd, stereotypical, and overly indulgent mess as they meet one dysfunctional, dissatisfied, and disturbed character after another who are all too eager to stand on a soapbox and give a lecture, recite a canned propagandist speech, to teach a lesson or invite Arthur to do the same.

Admirably shot in just eighteen days, Duck was inspired by the director’s commendable compassion for humanity, given her impressive history of volunteerism working with those less fortunate in the areas of suicide prevention, rehabilitation, and helping the mentally and terminally ill. And although her film opens with tremendous creative potential and benefits from a consummately professional leading performance by the gifted Philip Baker Hall (Hard Eight, Magnolia), who in the DVD interview likened his character to a mad King Lear and Sir Galahad, in the end he’s wasted by the poorly developed second and third act.

I can only blame the culprit of having the very best of intentions as ultimately Bettauer’s unable to let go of what she described in the press release as her overwhelming and worthwhile purpose to warn us “where we’re heading in the hopes of creating… change,” that she forgets to question whether or not it works as a film.

Regrettably, as Bettauer shares in the press notes her passionate belief that the “one thing many homeless hang onto, to fight boredom and pass the time of day, is the dying art of storytelling,” the end result feels like nothing more than a liberal propagandist piece. It’s a term I don’t throw around lightly, as a proud liberal in my own right and therefore one who really was hoping for the best. But instead of preaching to those she wants to entertain, she would’ve best served her purpose and aided those for whom she truly cares by offering a film that inspires rather than drains and tells a story rather than pushes the narrative arc so far off into the distance, that all that is left is political spin.

Despite this, she definitely earns points for her ability to take a cue from the tagline and “think outside the flock,” in her decision to write in a duck, being that a dog would’ve made a far more obvious sidekick for an unlikely buddy comedy drama. And in fact, charmingly, the DVD, which features not only commentary and interviews with Bettauer and Baker Hall as well as desktop downloads, a photo gallery, bios and more, offers some delightful accounts from the filmmaker and star about the challenges and joys in working with several unpredictable ducks.

However, in aspiring to offer us a story about hope, Bettauer ultimately could’ve learned a lesson from some of the more subtle, less-is-more, quirky, moral, independent comedies that celebrate humanity and tolerance such as Lars and the Real Girl and The Station Agent. As an old screenwriting professor used to say, movies are a “show me” medium as opposed to the “tell me” medium of literature, therefore it came as no surprise when I discovered that Bettauer decided to expand Duck by writing a novella based on her script and the resulting film.

Unfortunately, she didn’t differentiate between the two beforehand, for — in the end — the best way to move us is while utilizing the cinematic medium to show us “compassion” rather than simply quacking about it for ninety-eight minutes. And while aside from the opening half hour, I can’t recommend the film, I have no doubt that Duck -- which was best suited for the “tell me” medium all along — will make one excellent book, since in that medium quacking is not only encouraged but required.

Pineapple Express (2008)

Director:
David Gordon Green


Let me lay a few images on you: 1) Environmental activist and electric car poster boy Ed Begley Jr. packing heat and dropping f-bombs like pocket change. 2) Petite Rosie Perez putting the smack down on James Franco. 3) Danny McBride baking a cake to commemorate the birthday of his dead cat. 4) Seth Rogen feeling insecure when he meets his high school girlfriend’s hot male classmate who’s wowed her, not with his muscles, but his ability to do a killer Jeff Goldblum impression.

No, my friend, these are not hallucinations. Instead, welcome to director David Gordon Green’s stoner comedy Pineapple Express, which, paying homage to Spike Lee’s term-of-choice, could be called a "Judd Apatow Joint." Emulating 70’s stoner classics from its opening credits, Express gets a much-needed credibility boost, as award-winning writer/director David Gordon Green (All the Real Girls, George Washington) and his talented cinematographer Tim Orr turn what could have been a Harold and Kumar meets Cheech and Chong rip-off into something that’s more beautifully photographed and painstakingly edited than one would assume such a comedy should be.

Yet, that’s not to say it’s George Washington 2. In producer Apatow’s Pineapple Express, "everybody must get stoned" and in the process, laugh themselves silly. That’s right, in the latest trippy offering from the informal Judd Apatow School of Comedic Filmmaking, following Knocked Up, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, and Superbad, co-screenwriter and star Seth Rogen plays a process server with two passions in life: weed and talk radio.

When he isn’t donning elaborate costumes to surprise his “targets” with subpoenas, Rogen’s Dale Denton can usually be found driving down the highway, joint and steering wheel in one hand, and cell phone in the other, spouting off his own life lessons to whatever unfortunate DJ happens to be on the air. Tackling every issue, from his obvious ardent support of the legalization of marijuana, to trying to justify to the world—and disbelieving audiences—his improbable relationship with Angie (Amber Heard) a pretty, eighteen year old blonde, Dale coasts through his days, seemingly without any greater ambition than receiving the perfect smoke and giving the perfect pearl of wisdom.

While the logic of Dale and Angie: The Couple, makes as much sense as Leah Remini and Kevin James on The King of Queens, Rogen and his co-writer Evan Goldberg manage to cull a great deal of unexpected humor from the situation as Dale proceeds to surprise Angie with a visit in two of the film’s funniest scenes. The first occurs early into Express, when he arrives at her high school and gets busted by faculty within minutes; then, in one of the most uproarious sequences, after he shows up, bleeding and dirty, for dinner with her parents on an evening gone horribly wrong. However, in this instance - as in every time he’s paired alongside James Franco - Rogen is instantly upstaged by Angela’s father, played by Ed Begley Jr. as an uncharacteristic and downright hysterical Clint Eastwood type, eager to unload his rifle into his daughter’s loser beau.

Why is Dale bleeding and dirty, you might ask? Well, it’s a long story, but keeping the dwindling attention spans of the target stoner crowd in mind, it can best be summed up in one name: Saul Silver. Shortly after Dale agrees to Angie's request to finally meet the parents, he predictably retreats to his loyal drug dealer’s house, to take the edge off before continuing on to deliver the rest of his assigned subpoenas.

Like Begley, by playing against type, serious Golden Globe winning actor James Franco (TV’s James Dean) manages to score the greatest laughs by seemingly channeling both Brad Pitt in True Romance and Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High in his role as the perpetually stoned drug dealer, Saul Silver. Ridiculously clueless and desperately lonely, save for his adoration for his elderly grandmother, Saul is the type of dealer who claims "lingerers" are bummers yet when it comes to his relationship with his client of two months-- Dale-- he tries to lure him into hanging out by any means necessary.

Like most potheads, Saul’s conversation changes topics from one moment to the next, and Franco shows amazing untapped comedic potential by nailing every joke right from the start, gaining our empathy and winning us over with his portrayal of a morally questionable yet lovable loser. While he’s unable to persuade Dale into staying, either by watching The Jeffersons on one of his two televisions airing different programs simultaneously, or with his satellite radio, Dale can’t resist the chance to light Saul’s unusual “cross joint.” Additionally, while Saul pawns off low-quality fare to his less-deserving clientèle, Dale realizes that he’s been sold the first batch of high quality "Pineapple Express" pot (which Saul claims is the “dopest dope” he’s ever smoked); it’s so good that Saul explains it’s nearly a shame to smoke it since it’s “like killing a unicorn.”

Unfortunately, after Dale leaves his dealer’s apartment to serve one last subpoena, he experiences the ultimate buzz-kill when he witnesses an actual killing by sleazy drug kingpin Ted Jones (Office Space's Gary Cole) and Rosie Perez's crooked cop, Carol. During his chaotic escape, he leaves the rest of his joint at the scene of the crime, and sure enough, after discovering that Ted is Saul’s supplier, Saul and Dale have to flee their homes to outrun not only Ted and Carol, but also a duo of killers sent after the bumbling pair.

Comedic adventure ensues, and it starts out strong, with a genuinely hilarious evening spent in the woods (which goes from The Marx Brothers to The Blair Witch Project in a matter of seconds), then builds to even funnier effect when they encounter Saul’s double crossing, kimono wearing middle-man Red (a terrifically inventive Danny McBride).

But the film takes an ill-conceived turn when it replaces humor for ultra-violent action. The initial fight between Red, Dale and Saul recalls the creative high-jinks and absurdity of Cato Fong and Inspector Clouseau’s fights in the original Pink Panther movies and are excellently staged by Pineapple’s stunt coordinator Gary Hymes (Wanted, The Italian Job). The sight-gags have to be seen to be believed, as Saul jumps up and down on a portable phone in a shower, and Red hits Saul repeatedly with a dust-buster, but unfortunately, the humor and gags soon become increasingly violent.

Despite my belief that when it came to the Apatow trademark of earning its R rating to the "nth" degree, any alternative to the gross-out gags was preferable, the violence in Express crosses the line, especially in an overly long final battle that's shot to resemble a war film. Thus, much like its constantly dazed and confused characters, Pineapple Express throws the viewers off balance by the film’s constant questioning of its tone.

Green, Rogen, and Apatow never seem entirely sure whether they want to make the film a no-holds-barred action movie as homage to Tarantino, or just a buddy comedy turned “bromance,” as the relationship between Saul and Dale begins to blur the lines between comically genre-inspired homoeroticism (think Hot Fuzz and Top Gun) and the typical frat-pack feeling of similarly themed comedies such as Wedding Crashers or Talladega Nights. However, despite a funny, if far too brief performance by Rosie Perez, the film proves to be this week’s male answer to the release of The Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants 2, or as Pineapple’s sexist Red would argue, “bros before hoes.”

Coming, as it does, right off the heels of the release of Step Brothers, and just before next week’s Ben Stiller comedy, Tropic Thunder, only time will tell how reliable the attention spans of audiences will be in remembering Pineapple as an unlikely Apatow joint.

Although the films are very different and I have yet to see Tropic Thunder, the laughter at the Pineapple screening was so raucous that I know I missed half the jokes. So despite fighting an overwhelming urge to look at my watch as its final battle raged on -- based on sheer entertainment value alone -- I think I'd go back to ride the Express once more before revisiting the humorous but unusually cruel, Step Brothers again.

And overwhelmingly, the wish for a repeat viewing would be to appreciate again the awe-inspiring range of Spiderman and Tristan and Isolde’s James Franco, in a role he plays so well that it’s a shame that comedies are frequently overlooked during awards season. However, if you want more reasons, just go back and reread the opening paragraph, where the price of admission is justified right there in black and white, in case your mind (like Saul's) has begun to wander.

French Postcards (1979)

Director:
Willard Huyck

As soon as the college exchange students arrive in Paris, they are advised to wipe everything American from their minds in order to fully immerse themselves in the sophisticated elegance of French culture.

While normally when the words are uttered by someone as alluring as Marie-France Pisier (Love on the Run), they should leave an indelible mark on her new young pupils, unfortunately the effect becomes comedic instead of philosophical when just shortly thereafter, she gets into a French language shouting match with their obnoxious tour bus driver. However as both a professor and co-director of the Institute of French Studies, consummate professional Catherine Tessier (Pisier) recovers flawlessly, flashing her trademark beguiling smile while segueing into the clichéd adage that the students will remember the time they spent there for the rest of their lives.

It’s the same sentiment that the blonde, neurotic, lost soul Laura (Baby Doll actress Carroll Baker’s daughter Blanche Baker) takes as a warning, scribbling endless postcards to David, her boyfriend back home in the states while keeping her sightseeing itinerary even more packed than her school schedule, promising both David and herself that she will see all 212 important French sites listed in the Michelin Guide. While Laura gives professionals specializing in travelogues a run for their money, her fellow students seem far more interested in researching Parisian l’amour as handsome Oberlin College exchange student Alex (Devil Wears Prada star David Marshall Grant) develops a stalker-like interest on Catherine, despite her marriage to the snobbishly rude Jean Rochefort (Man on the Train).

Unlike his nervous, indecisive but sweet roommate Joel (Howard the Duck’s Miles Chapin) who seems more contented to keep their elderly widowed caretaker company while watching Star Trek reruns in French, the aspiring musician David shares that he was so desperate to get the hell out of Ohio, he would’ve joined the Foreign Legion in order to get to Paris. While David continues to follow Catherine around the city, hoping she’ll share his feelings, soon enough David’s argument that Joel shouldn’t act like a prisoner since he’s in a foreign country, prompt Joel to make a bold move and telephone the independent-minded but adorable Toni (the sadly late Valerie Quennessen) for a date, which leads to hilariously unexpected results.

Filled with chance encounters and characters bonding with others they may not have given a second glance to if they’d met on their own American soil, this likably energetic and fast-paced romantic coming of age comedy boasts another fine script from talented, married American Graffiti and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom authors Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck (who also directed). In addition, French Postacards seems like a nice predecessor to Cedric Klapisch’s more allegorical yet similarly themed 2002 film L’Auberge Espagnole (a.k.a. The Spanish Apartment). Despite the fact that Chapin’s Joel does recall Richard Dreyfuss’ similarly indecisive Curt Henderson from Graffiti, while some critics have disregarded Postcards as a merely forgettable, French rehash of American Graffiti, that seems like a bit of a short-sighted dismissal to this reviewer who actually considers Graffiti to be one of her all-time favorite American films.

Featuring a young Debra Winger in an early supporting blink-and-you’ve-missed-it role, aside from excellent work by the young cast, the film’s ultimate scene-stealer arrives in the last thirty minutes of the film with the introduction of Mandy Patinkin’s admittedly stereotypical yet hilarious Iranian full-time travel agent, part-time womanizer Sayyid. Similar to his quotable (“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.”) work in The Princess Bride, Patinkin’s Sayyid helps pick up the pace when the film threatens to move into melodrama as the young lovers face romantic speed-bumps in their relationships. Intriguingly, while it would’ve been tempting for most writers to include a buffoon-like character late in the game as a mere diversion or to add to the film’s running time if they’ve begun to run out of plot points, the inventive Katz and Huyck actually utilize the actions of his character to propel the story forward. Incidentally, this leads to an interesting and much needed arc for the character of Laura, which I’d frankly never seen coming.

Originally produced by Paramount Pictures, despite the undeniable age of the film print, this overlooked 1979 classic is sure to resonate with college travelers today. It may also pick up additional momentum with its recent release on DVD by Legend Films, especially considering not only all the great talent involved (including Pisier and Rochefort) but those who may have seen American Graffiti one too many times and are in desperate need of a European change of scenery.

Meet Bill

Alternate Title: Bill (2007)

Directors: Bernie Goldman & Melisa Wallack

Replacing the storm clouds and rain that established the dour tone of Gore Verbinski’s mirthless windy city set “dramedy” The Weather Man for sunnier skies and a lighter, brighter change of scenery, the similarly themed Aaron Eckhart vehicle Meet Bill not only benefits from the false sense of inviting warmth in its location change but also adds a subtle ironic counterpoint to the unraveling of our neurotic main character.

Whether he’s playing the cocky tobacco spokesman in Thank You For Smoking, the sleazy, racist, used car salesman adulterer in Nurse Betty, or the handsome, grown up boy scout in the final season of TV’s Frasier, like a lot of attractive men, Eckhart seems to have the most fun playing against his appearance and this latest performance is no exception.

Like Nicolas Cage’s Weather Man character, Bill (Eckhart) is filled with self-loathing and dysfunction but whereas Cage portrayed an aggressively ambitious, narcissistic louse, Bill is the type of guy whose name you’d probably immediately forget as soon as you shook his hand at a cocktail party, which makes the film’s poster all the more fitting. In fact, his own wife Jess (Elizabeth Banks) and smug, contemptuous and condescending in-laws including his boss and father-in-law, Mr. Jacoby (Holmes Osborne) and Jacoby’s sycophantic son John Jr. (Todd Louiso) hardly seem aware of him at all, except when the time comes to send him on meaningless errands, of course with the perpetual warning that he better not screw anything up.

Unhappily saddled with a trivial position at the Jacoby’s ironically named Family Freedom Bank, Bill’s rank as a useless V.P. is repeatedly in lieu of his true, unnamed position as the family’s whipping boy from running off copies like a glorified secretary to fetching the fresh kill of the Jacoby men from their latest hunt. Prone to second guessing every move Bill makes, it’s hardly a wonder that in that sort of environment, Bill seldom has the courage to make one on his own and although outwardly, Bill seems to have grown accustomed to constantly being patronized, internally, he’s a volcano ready to explode.

Nevertheless, as harsh as the Jacoby family is on Bill, like most insecure and sensitive individuals, he’s his own worst enemy. Sure enough, all the proof we need for Bill’s self-loathing prophecies can be found in the film’s opening minutes as we encounter the overweight, poorly groomed man sizing himself up in a bathroom mirror and in an unmerciful voice-over critiquing every aspect of not only his professional and personal life but his physical appearance as well.

It’s an image that one doesn’t often associate with conventional masculinity, even in our contemporary era of metrosexuals. And while granted, the screenplay for Meet Bill was in fact penned by a woman (Melisa Wallack who co-directed the film with Bernie Goldmann), the concerns that Bill expresses to himself don’t seem that far out of left field and any woman who’s been privy to the inner workings of the heterosexual middle aged male mind know that-- despite what the media would like us to believe-- both genders have similar preoccupations when it comes to their appearance.

Needless to say, what Bill needs most in life is change, and his unlikely agent to do so comes in the form of an unnamed precocious teenage boy (actor Logan Lerman in a role credited simply as The Kid) who bursts into Bill’s restroom of frustration to escape a school official. Possibly impressed by the fact that Bill doesn’t squeal on the youngster or perhaps drawn with pathos driven curiosity to the adult’s obvious midlife crisis , The Kid latches onto Bill like a magnet, and despite the elder man’s protests, surreptitiously maneuvering to become the student Bill is fast-talked into mentoring as part of a company-wide volunteer program.

However, we quickly realize that in Bill’s case, The Kid is the one doing most of the mentoring, helping Eckhart develop a stronger backbone in saying “no” for the first time in his life, supporting the man’s odd desire to open up a doughnut franchise to free himself from the Jacoby stranglehold and more importantly, coming to the rescue with a bizarre plan for revenge after Bill discovers that his wife has been having an affair.

If it sounds like a spoiler, rest assured it isn’t, since indication that Jess has been fooling around is introduced nearly from the get-go as we, along with Bill, sense an uncomfortably worrisome level of intimacy between Jess and Chip, (Timothy Olyphant), the local, cheesy “On the Scene” news guy. One of those local pretentious celebrities not unlike the one Cage played in The Weather Man, Chip is the type of guy we dislike immediately, possibly because—as his name implies—we know he’s going to chip away at Bill from the moment the two share a scene. Although, perhaps if we would have known how much fun it would be to watch Bill crumble, we would’ve thanked Chip instead of hating him from the start.

Innocuous, predictable, yet refreshingly affable thanks to the lead actors, Meet Bill thankfully avoids the trappings of raunchy, toilet driven humor for its genre and sadly after debuting at The Toronto Film Festival, failed to garner a wide theatrical release before being unceremoniously dropped on DVD shelves. And although her beautiful face appears prominently on the DVD box as a selling point, Jessica Alba turns in a nice if tragically underwritten performance in a very minor role as a kind lingerie salesgirl on whom The Kid nurses a hopeless crush. However, much like the surprising friendship between Bill and The Kid does feel a bit conveniently cinematic (and owes a great deal to Rushmore and Harold and Maude), admirably Alba’s role never feels clichéd, even when The Kid enlists her help in trying to make Jess jealous by pretending she’s the new woman in Bill’s life.

Despite an over-the-top third act which makes the unfortunate decision to abandon the film’s more subtle and clever style of humor in favor of going for bigger and broader gags to garner larger chuckles, the uneven but surprisingly enjoyable film is far more viewer friendly than your local gloomy Weather Man. And while it’s hardly on par with more sophisticated midlife crisis fare such as Sideways or Little Miss Sunshine, it’s a small gem of a sleeper. It’s also one that, for those who take the time to seek it out, offers additional evidence that Eckhart-- the same man who first made a terrifying impression on moviegoers in his dark roles in Neil LaBute’s first two films and most recently took on the role of Harvey Dent in The Dark Knight-- is quite a versatile performer with equal gifts in drama and comedy, or more accurately, to cite Bill’s genre-- in dramedy.

Charlie Bartlett

Director:
Jon Poll

In Charles Schulz’s beloved Peanuts comic strip, eight-year-old enterpriser Lucy van Pelt ran a psychiatric version of a children’s lemonade stand offering questionable advice for the budget price of a shiny nickel, and in the hit 1970’s television series Happy Days, the compulsively leather jacket clad Fonzie commandeered the men’s room at Arnold’s which he turned into his “office” in order to share his own brand of questionable pearls of wisdom to the Milwaukee teens, preferring his age group’s highly coveted currency of cool points in lieu of coinage. More than thirty years later, when it comes to the perilous task of coming-of-age-- whether you’re eight or eighteen-- popularity still reigns supreme. And in the feature filmmaking debut from both director Jon Poll and writer Gustin Nash, the two combine the aforementioned pop culture concepts with pharmacological precision, managing to mix in classic teen films from the decades that followed including Harold and Maude, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Say Anything, Clueless, Rushmore, and Mean Girls to create the perfect prescription cocktail with minimal side effects, aside from a high likelihood of audience addiction to their film, Charlie Bartlett.

In the titular role, television actor Anton Yelchin turns in a winning performance as the mischievous yet terribly bright wealthy high school student Charlie Bartlett who, after getting ejected from the latest in a string of prep schools for unacceptable behavior including running a fake ID laminating press in order to be liked by his classmates, finds he’s left his exasperated, neurotic mother Marilyn (Hope Davis) no choice but to pack him off to public school. Fearing he’d make the wrong impression by arriving via his family’s chauffeur, unfortunately Charlie (like Jason Schwartzman’s Max Fischer in Rushmore) neglects to realize that perhaps wearing his prep school uniform and packing an attaché case isn’t the wisest way to fit in and sure enough, after first accidentally boarding the “short bus” for challenged students with special needs, he arrives only to find himself the victim of a toilet “swirlie” by the school bully Murphy Bivens (Tyler Hilton). Undaunted, he continues to try and put his best foot forward by greeting everyone with “Hi, I’m Charlie,” even going so far as to write it in a note to Susan Gardner (Kat Dennings), the beautiful girl who’d originally caught his eye but assumed he was a teacher, although ultimately Charlie ends up sitting with his friends from the short bus at lunch.

After spending time with the family shrink they have on retainer and being erroneously prescribed Ritalin, Charlie has an epiphany to recruit Murphy to become—if not his friend—then his business partner in selling the prescriptions at the school dance. Soon enough, Charlie’s access to mood altering medication makes him the go-to guy for all of his fellow classmates who begin lining up in the hallway for their opportunity to have a psychiatric consultation with the precocious new kid. By this time, Charlie has not only begun reading psychiatric and medical books to aid what ails his classmates but has also started shrink shopping to get the right pills in the hands of the right students who want to avoid parental embarrassment and HMO woes on their path to mental stability.

Naturally, the long lines for the men’s room begins to garner the attention of Principal Gardner (Robert Downey Jr.), who not only has professional concern for the well-being of his students but is especially irked when he realizes that his daughter Susan has become the target of Charlie’s affections. Worried the boy is just after his daughter for bragging rights, Principal Gardner tries to put a stop to all of Charlie’s extra-curricular activities, alienating himself from his colleagues, students and Susan in the process before viewers begin to realize that-- despite their age and situations-- Gardner and Charlie have much more in common than one would think as they both desperately want to be liked and are prone to self-medication,with the principal's preference being unwinding with a bottle of booze while piloting a motorized boat in his family’s pool. In a different world, it’s apparent the two could have been friends but when fatherhood and professionalism enters the equation, all bets are off. However, it’s the genius of the writing by Gustin Nash and in Jon Poll’s sensitive direction, that they never manage to sweep these issues under the rug, making every character equally vulnerable, equally innocent, and equally culpable in the scheme of things.

And while it seems like it’s the darkest subject matter for a teenage comedy to involve such a plethora of prescription medication, the filmmakers don’t handle this lightly at all, as Charlie’s actions do involve consequences, yet the tone of the film is far sunnier and more approachable than the superior yet icy Wes Anderson film, Rushmore. With a strong homage to Harold and Maude throughout as Cat Steven’s “If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out,” is utilized numerous times to great effect, Bartlett seems to be the latest Generation Y incarnation of Matthew Broderick’s Ferris Bueller in that you just know he’d never do anything to actually endanger a fellow human being, instead realizing that-- much like his clueless friends-- he’s also lost the unattainable map directing them on their path from adolescence to adulthood as they struggle to find their way.

And while Bartlett's final act seems a bit rushed and far fetched to believe, the intelligence of the writing and the refreshingly earnest and sweet natured approach to the otherwise tired and overpopulated genre of crass, highly sexualized and cynical teen films, not only reminded me of a junior companion piece to Lawrence Kasdan’s Capraesque Mumford (also starring Hope Davis) but also earned Bartlett a spot at the head of the class of 2008 as this reviewer’s pet.

Just Add Water

Director: Hart Bochner

Speaking as someone who doesn’t even have power windows let alone a GPS directional system, I’ve graduated from the headache inducing cumbersome maps with size nine font and an overreliance on geometry to the friendlier, although sometimes erroneous MapQuest directions. And, while it’s always nerve-wracking to venture out on my own-- armed with a terrific mix CD or programmed iPod and a questionable cheat sheet from a computer website to get myself where I need to be-- I love taking in the scenery as I go. Not only am I constantly amazed by the homogeny of mini-malls, fast food places, and chain stores, but it’s always intriguing when I get out of the cityscape and drive through one of those under-populated desert ghost towns where you only see one main grocery store with a mostly vacant lot, a few scattered shops including the obligatory gas station and then one small community of homes amidst an unforgiving, desolate backdrop, where it’s quiet for miles and... when global warming is at its worst, it climbs to an extreme one hundred and thirty degrees. As I whip by in air-conditioned luxury, knowing it’s just one numeric direction on my MapQuest list, the writer in me wonders what life is like in one of those sleepy towns.

In Just Add Water, writer/director Hart Bochner’s unrelentingly dark yet sweet and sour flavored comedy, we have the opportunity to find out as we meet our unlikely sad sack hero Ray Tuckby (Nip/Tuck’s Dylan Walsh), who lives in the bleak town of Trona, California where the toxic waste poisoned soil caused the river to be diverted as most citizens including the law enforcement all jumped ship (or rather town), and a group of unruly young meth lab running punks including Justin Long and led by the particularly vile Dirk (Will Rothaar) purchased up all the property they could get their greasy hands on to run the show as greedy landlords, shutting off the electricity (and therefore air conditioning) when one of their residents blows their welfare checks and forgets to pay up, or threatening to harm Ray’s son if they’re not granted a new five dollar toll for driving down a public street.

Needless to say, life in Trona is miserable and for Ray it’s no exception with a shut-in wife who coupon clips and as Ray soon learns has a devastating secret all her own along with Eddie (Jonah Hill), an aimless son who keeps reminding his father that he’d like to visit a hooker for his belated graduation present, although really-- when all is said and done-- he realizes that he’d rather be a proper boyfriend to the lovely R’Ch’lle (Anika Noni Rose).

With more family drama piled on early in the film via a medical emergency that—in predictable dark comic fashion—ends with shocking laughter in a questionably tasteless confrontation, it seems that the only ray of light for Ray himself comes from his daily trips to the local market when he gets a precious few uninterrupted minutes with the girl he’s loved since grade school-- the sweet, adorable checkout woman Nora (Tracy Middendorf). However, as we all know—one of the greatest obstacles of finding love is timing—it’s not enough that you meet someone you’re compatible with, what’s more, you need to be fortunate enough that when the feeling goes from one-sided to mutual, you’re both free.

Lucky for Ray, he’s released from the old ball-and-chain but true to the film’s sardonic nature, his decoupling occurs in one of the most emasculating ways. Thus after Ray’s life is turned upside down and he finds himself single again, he tries to build up enough courage to give in to the crush he’s harbored for nearly two decades and Walsh’s scenes with Middendorf provide a much needed earnest and romantic relief to the otherwise dire film where the overwhelmingly unlikable characters and situations threaten to destroy any hope of finding humor in the outrageous situations that grow much more dismal as it continues.

Yet, thanks to a great, understated turn by Walsh whose quintessential good guy everyman we’re rooting for from the start and an amusing smaller role from Danny DeVito as the new Chevron station independent operator, this otherwise lackluster, below average comedy which initially made me recall the horrors of DeVito’s Drowning Mona and Death to Smoochy, becomes surprisingly watchable Saturday afternoon fare—especially one that would be much more enjoyable after days of endless rain has left one longing for the type of sun they can’t avoid and for which they would love to trade in order to Just Add Water in Bochner’s desolate, downbeat depiction of Trona, California.

Bella

Director: Alejandro Gomez Monteverde

Although infinitely preferable to the sexist and conservative rants of Dr. Phil, normally I wouldn’t advise trying to glean any wisdom on how to live one’s life from the heartbreaking oeuvre of Tennessee Williams. Despite this, there is definitely something to be said for Blanche DuBois’s memorable confession, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” uttered in A Streetcar Named Desire. Not only do those words ring true more regularly than the evening news would have us believe in real life, but often they also provide a terrific springboard for creativity in the world of independent filmmaking.

From The Station Agent to Once, it seems as though we overwhelmingly gravitate towards stories in which our main character finds either their romantic or platonic soul mate in a complete stranger. Frequently this burgeoning appreciation echoes the events onscreen as audience members find themselves becoming an integral part of a steadily growing word-of-mouth movement that brings together film lovers from all backgrounds and walks of life to find truth, solace and consolation in the fact that this world is much smaller than we may think, with people who feel things in the same way as do we.

A beautiful cinematic realization of this sentiment can be found in writer/director Alejandro Gomez Monteverde’s feature film debut Bella which earned the 2006 People’s Choice Award at the Toronto International Film Festival, once again exemplifying the determination of filmgoers to seek out and reward works with which they identify. Primarily set during the course of one fateful New York day, save for a few wisely chosen flashes backwards and forwards in time, we encounter two employees of a restaurant who find a spark of recognition in one another.

When the pretty, young waitress Nina (Tammy Blanchard) is fired by domineering Manny (Manny Perez) after arriving late to work, despite the fact that they’re relative strangers, something in the girl’s eyes and manner speaks to Manny’s brother, the restaurant’s chef Jose (Eduardo Verastegui) who follows Nina to the subway where she reveals she is pregnant. Not wanting to leave her alone and equally drawn to her plight by the ghosts of his own tragic past which are revealed over the course of the film and refreshingly without predictability, Jose brings Nina to his family’s home.

Traditional narrative structure would have us believe that we’re watching a straightforward romance where Jose would chivalrously save the young woman from a tragic fate however just when you think you have it pegged, the film moves in another direction. Moreover, Monteverde’s intelligent screenplay and carefully chosen leads never let us forget that Jose needs Nina just as much as she needs him and Bella avoids becoming mired in a tired formula as the film evolves from a naturalistic romance to one where the romance isn’t simply to be found in the relationship between a man and a woman but one that celebrates genuine love between human beings, whether it’s classified as romantic, familial or platonic.

Fraulein

Director: Andrea Staka

We all have the instinctive urge to escape. Whether it’s to travel to exotic locations for vacation or start over in a brand new place, there’s something undeniably irresistible and inherently human about wanting to get away to try something new, not only to see how life is lived elsewhere but to see who we become in another setting. Although we can neither escape our problems nor our true nature, the desire to hit “reset” is one that exists at all levels, ranging from just wanting to clear your head from the daily grind and lie in the sun or at its most urgent, needing to relocate permanently due to work, hardship or in the case of the main characters in writer/director Andrea Staka’s award winning feature film debut Fraulein, to leave political turmoil and war behind.

As the film begins, we meet the young, attractive, free-spirited Ana (Marja Skaricic) who arrives in Zurich from Bosnia. Although she’s survived the war, the tragedies of the past seem to dance precariously in her eyes, never to be forgotten, even as she dances as quickly as she can to pulse-pounding electronica blasting over the speakers in the city’s clubs, distracting herself with one-night stands until her secrets start to unravel like a piece of yarn from her beaten old sweater.

Everything about Ana seems temporary and transient but after she impulsively accepts a job working in a local cafeteria, her life becomes intertwined by two elder coworkers, including Jovic, an intelligent Croatian immigrant (Mila Ljubica) still trying to decide in which country she hopes to spend her remaining years, and Ruza (Mirjana Karanovic), the strict cafeteria owner who, like Ana, had twenty-five years earlier abandoned her native Yugoslavia when she was just twenty-two.

Initially resistant to Ana’s overtures of friendship, most likely because she reminds her of the homeland she’d prefer to forget, the indifferent Ruza experiences a change of heart as she starts to recognize the woman she once had been, most notably in a gorgeous metaphorical scene where she, much like Ana, begins to dance when surprised by an impromptu birthday celebration.

Although a solemn air hangs over Staka’s picture from the start especially considering the revelation of one particularly heartrending shock early on, Fraulein manages to challenge both a typical cross-generational female bonding structure as well as resist, much like the determined Ruza, any urge to journey into false nostalgia or fall in step with what very well could have been a tearjerker paradigm. However, this emphasis on authenticity throughout no doubt owes much to the care of first time feature director and award winning short Swiss filmmaker Andrea Staka, a former photographer and visual arts student, who drew from her own background as the daughter of two exiled Yugoslavian parents.

With remarkable performances that seem all the more riveting when one realizes that neither lead actress spoke German and instead had to learn their dialogue phonetically as explained by Jay Weissberg in Variety, this award winning foreign favorite which played as an Official Selection at both the Sundance and Tribeca Film Festival, has since been released to discerning film lovers via Film Movement’s prestigious DVD-of-the-month club.

Son of Rambow

Director: Garth Jennings

Something tells me writer/director Garth Jennings won’t be asked to film an anti-piracy DVD public service announcement anytime soon.

Set in the early 1980’s, Jennings begins his whimsical ode to childhood daydreams and the magic of movies with a seemingly insignificant event as Sylvester’s Stallone’s violent classic Rambo: First Blood is released in the film’s sleepy English community movie theatre. While outside the theatre, religious protestors rail against the sinfulness of cinema, inside the grand building, middle school aged Lee Carter (Will Poulter) slumps down in his oversized red seat. Armed with his older brother’s video camera, the nonplussed Lee relaxes with a cigarette as he records the movie’s bloodbath blow-by-blow, apparently bored by both his act of piracy as well as the film’s body count. Shortly thereafter, the worlds of both the purported film-going sinners and the bible-thumping saints collide amusingly as troublemaking Lee gets kicked out of his class and meets up with the only other student relegated to the hallway, young Will Proudfoot (Bill Milner), booted from the room due to movies instead of misdeeds as his religion prevents him from watching even educational television.

After a mutual accident gets them in trouble, they bond quickly with Lee’s rebellion and escalating lies and Will learns how life is lived outside of his family’s religious order of "The Brethren," when he accompanies Lee after school to find him living largely unsupervised in the back part of the family’s retirement home business with absentee parents who spend most of their time abroad. When Lee’s bossy, self-obsessed older brother (Gossip Girl’s Ed Westwick) orders Lee to finish his work pirating Rambo, Will gets his first taste of film which hits him like a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart as the young, artistically inclined, daydreaming boy begins seeing the world around him as an extension of Rambo’s, finding adventure around every corner.

Combining Will’s new thirst for violent excitement with Lee’s goal to win a young filmmaker’s competition sponsored by the BBC, the two boys set out to make their own sequel. While working on the project they title Son of Rambow because of a naïve misspelling, Lee and Will’s friendship is tested by both their duties to their family as well as their newfound popularity, when the two outsiders garner the attention of the impossibly cool, 80’s New Wave inspired French exchange student Didier (Jule Sitruk). Informing Will that he will deign to be the star of their film, Didier along with his adoring entourage of hangers-on and groupies pull rank and drive a wedge between the boys over the course of a long summer.

Now available in wide theatrical release, the former crowd favorite at the Sundance Film Festival before its Arizona premiere at The Phoenix Film Festival has garnered comparisons to everything from Wes Anderson’s thematically similar Rushmore to the 80’s hits of John Hughes due to its lackluster production values. However, it’s a positive and refreshing change of pace to the overwhelming summer “event” movies and one with a touch of E.T. styled childlike wonder and winning, heartfelt humor which surrounds its underdog leads.

Above all, the film is sure to strike a chord with those of us who, much like Lee and Will, recall their outsider status as young movie lovers in schools where coolness was currency and gossip-- not theatre tickets-- granted us admission to the popular cliques. While we may have sat on the sidelines with our heads filled with imaginative wonder, Son of Rambow celebrates the creativity of the childhood film lover who, much like this reviewer, still cherishes the optimistic daydreams of a youth filled with as many adventures and hopes as the ones that populated our local movie screens.

My Blueberry Nights

Director: Wong Kar Wai

As Fabienne tells Butch in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, “Any time of the day is a good time for pie.” This is especially true when one is nursing a broken heart and in the first English language film from director Wong Kar Wai (one of Tarantino’s favorite directors), while love sick alcoholic police officer David Strathairn opts for shots and Otis Redding’s "Try a Little Tenderness" in a Memphis bar, beautiful singer Norah Jones decides on pie in New York with Jude Law in My Blueberry Nights. Gee, no offense to Redding and Strathairn but that seems like a no-brainer to this filmgoer as well, although like Ms. Jones and Mr. Kar Wai (IMDb), I’m not one for blueberry pie.

In her screen debut, Jones turns in a subtle, introspective and competent if admittedly unchallenging performance as Elizabeth, who, heartsick from her badly ended love affair with an unfaithful boyfriend, begins returning to the diner where she not only learned of the infidelity through the loyal owner Jeremy (Law) but also has offered up her keys as the latest set to fill his cookie jar of failed romance. Jeremy, who serves as the genial but unlikely go between for bitter exes, is all too familiar with Elizabeth’s story as his keys were one of the first ones dropped into that sad jar and while nobody ever seems to come back for the keys, Jeremy says that like the untouched, uncut dish of blueberry pie at the end of the night forsaken in favor of cheesecake, he likes to keep the keys and the pie there just in case. Relating to the tale and in need of distraction, Elizabeth’s ritual of coming in for pie ends in a gorgeous succession of shots with an obvious fairy tale homage as Jeremy leans over and upside down, manages to kiss the remaining traces of pie from the lips of the sleeping, heartbroken Elizabeth before she vanishes to Tennessee to get as many miles as she can away from her bad memories of the end of love.

However something unspoken has passed between those pie filled nights and tender conversation, and she continually sends Jeremy postcards and letters from her new life, working two jobs as a waitress in a greasy spoon diner and a bar, both of which are the daily haunts of Strathairn’s Arnie Copeland. Unable to divorce the unfaithful, much younger wife (Rachel Weisz) from whom he’s separated but still madly in love with, Arnie makes a promise every night that he’ll quit drinking, piling his one day AA chips on the bar, but with every time the jukebox record drops Otis Redding’s "Try a Little Tenderness" and Weisz saunters in, that resolution is helplessly abandoned.

After a tragic middle section, the episodic My Blueberry Nights moves out west to the tale of lady gambler Leslie (Natalie Portman) as she and Elizabeth become a mild Thelma and Louise until life catches up with them both. While Leslie’s story seems like an odd fit with the lovesick tales of woe, it does also concern a nonromantic heartbreak and serves as a nice release for audiences who were squirming in their seats, unfamiliar with the slow Kar Wai pacing and obsessions with the ends of affairs.

A Kar Wai fan since Chungking Express who still considers In the Mood for Love to be one of the most romantic films ever made, I was bitterly disappointed by the overly ambitious mess of 2046 that was so awful, it made my loyal film professor and movie going sidekick swear off Kar Wai and decide he would be the one to choose the next several films. And while My Blueberry Nights isn’t in the same league as Chungking or Mood, it’s still intoxicatingly sensual and filled with performers who instinctively feel at ease in Kar Wai’s gorgeous, impressionistic, and unabashedly romantic universe. And hopefully it will make filmgoers not only reach for the nearest slice of pie but hit the shelves of their local movie stores looking for the director’s best.

Note: For an in-depth analysis of In the Mood for Love alongside one of the films it influenced, Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation, click here for my article.