Whatever Makes You Happy

You could call them the inbetweeners. Early on in Whatever Makes You Happy, bassist Alex (Tyler Peck) is invited to a dinner party by an old college friend. “Aren’t you too young for a dinner party?” his neighbor asks.

The characters of Whatever Makes You Happy, a group of friends hitting the end of their 20’s, are all in the same place: stuck between where they started and where they’re going. We join them not at point A or point B, but on a dark, Cambridge street somewhere between. Anna (Rachel Parsons) became a teacher, no doubt with high aspirations to reach students and teach them what she never knew. The reality is far less magical. She’s deep into a relationship but not deeply in love, and she sees the same in everyone around her. Those who are committed to something seem to have settled for it. When she’s introduced to Alex at that dinner party, she realizes that she’s even less sure if what she has is what she wants.

Feelings like this probably spawned the terrible term “quarter-life crisis,” but director and writer A.T. Sayre wisely avoids any labels and pat scenarios. Instead, Whatever Makes You Happy plays out in the  cadence of real life in a refreshing way.

When Alex sends a friend request to Anna after the dinner party, he amusingly types and re-types his message several times. Starting out bland, then getting too personal, then just wacky, he finally decides to send it without any message at all. These people know they should be something, but despite having left college years ago they’re still learning what that is. The question that we watch them answer is: what do they have to do to find out?

Ultimately, Whatever Makes You Happy is a thoughtful character study, and the director will be interesting to watch as his career progresses.

Written by S.M. Crowningshield

Whatever Makes You Happy Website

The Bothersome Man

The Icelandic film The Bothersome Man begins with the protagonist on a random bus in the middle of nowhere. He’s quickly shuffled off to a very clean, drab city where he is given an apartment and job, but still no explanation for where he is or how he got there. He finds that all the people in the city are friendly and accepting, but still there is something off about the place. Nobody can die, the food doesn’t have any taste, and all the alcohol in the world will not get him drunk. It is a purgatory that seems eerily similar to normal life.  In a time where audience hand-holding is standard operating procedure for most films, it is refreshing to watch a movie that doesn’t involve copious expository dialogue. In fact, there isn’t any, at all, and it works all the more because of it.

Part of the effectiveness of The Bothersome Man comes from the performances, which are subtly distant. At no point does anyone raise their voice, or swear, or even genuinely smile. They all smile, but nobody actually seems happy. Everyone is both accepting and oblivious, which leads to some dark, absurdist humor later in the film. The human behavior on display in the city is like watching humanity on its best behavior, yet also uncaring, and detached. Very rarely has sex on screen been so passionless and perfunctory. The muted, nearly absent score also helps with the otherworldly calm of the movie.

While a philosophical Icelandic film that deals with the nature of humanity, has little score, and no identifiable actors may not sound like an enjoyable or engrossing film, it is actually rather entertaining, thanks to a wealthy vein of dark humor, and the good sense of the screenwriter, Per Schreiner, and director, Jens Lien, to not give out any overt answers. The movie lives and dies with its ambiguity. If any answers were given, they would, no doubt, seem either clumsy or cheap. Besides, questions of this magnitude are best left unanswered.

The framing and lighting of the movie seems to match the aesthetic of the city where the majority of the action takes place; the shots are well composed, yet nothing is too artistic or daring. It is similar to the technique used recently in the comedy The Invention of Lying, but there is a bit more polish to the shots in The Bothersome Man, much like how the city has much polish, but no real character.

While the tone of the film never waivers, it is tough to figure out just what kind of movie it is. While at times it feels something like a drama, and occasionally a black comedy, and sometimes a horror movie, and also an existential mystery, it isn’t an easy piece of cinema to nail down. It can be both shockingly gruesome and subtly subversive, all without even a hint of violence or even much dialogue outside of the banal language of everyday business. It is a sly piece of cinema, one that removes all the flash, and replaces it with ambiguity, subtlety, and a good dose of absurdity.

Written by Mark Donovan

Solari and Nasser

Producer and Boston Girls actress Camille Solari has just announced she will produce T.J. Mancini's script Hitman's Funeral, about a man who goes up against the Irish mob. Jack Nasser and Nasser Entertainment will executive produce. Universal Studios has agreed to distribute in the States, while Studio City Pictures is handling the foreign rights. Solari also recently struck a deal with Nasser for Lady Luck on which Randal Klieser is set to direct. Al Pacino is said to be in talks to star in "Funeral."

Buddhists In Toy Land

I am lucky enough to have been enjoying the offerings from Reel Groovy Films and their prolific creator, John Mayer Hartman, for a number of years on the independent/underground film scene. Until now, I had only been exposed to Hartman’s quietly quirky brilliance in short-subject form. I have found these white dwarves of movie magic to be universally entertaining, artistically striking, and technically impressive. For all of this, I’ve been hard-pressed for a single, summative word for what this unique experience is. With my recent viewing of the feature Reel-Illusionary Zone, I have found the word that eluded me, and it is Fearless.

Zone is a powerful, stylistic fusion of classic German minimalist cinema, the New American Independent esthetic, Buddhist philosophy, and vintage stop-motion animation techniques. It approaches deep, introspective themes with both a subtle beauty and a genuinely whimsical sense of itself. In light of how risky being so true to one's art really is, fearless is the only fitting adjective, which is good, since 'Pygmalian Drops Acid' with the 'Vampire in Wonderland' as performed by the Buster Keaton Players is nowhere near as snappy or dramatic sounding.

The film makes the most of a mixed bag of low-budget, high-impact special effects, expertly chosen scoring and nuanced, high-theatrical performances. Bringing together these elements to highlight an otherwise very sparse, mostly black & white, silent production, the mad coven at Reel Groovy films present a truly affecting and enjoyable Odyssey of oddity. Hartman and Co. craft a psychedelic epic beyond the frontiers of the individual mind, through the interwoven fringes of our shared consciousness, across the assumed boundaries of what is ‘real,’ into the very heart of the human experience.

We embark on this journey along with the Toymaker (Hartman) a cursed, dimensionally displaced hermit. His only companions are his lovingly crafted, creepily human toys. When his beloved creations, Groovy Girl and Bean Pole, are lost and stumble into the Reel-Illusionary Zone, the mystical border between the land of toys and the ‘real’ world, the saga begins. First, the Toymaker builds replacement toys, including a disturbing, faceless creature and 2.0 versions of Groovy Girl and Bean Pole. The Toymaker charges these creations with finding their predecessors, and they, too, get lost in the mysterious landscape.

The two sets of toys have a variety of misadventures, my favorite of which involves a beautiful homage to the gold standard of German minimalist film, Nosferatu, complete with gothic European castle and buck-toothed vampire. Eventually, the toys each emerge into the ‘real’ world, attaining humanity as they do so. With all the new knowledge, and needs of humanity, the toys attempt to make their way in our world. Their travels leave them (in succession and ultimately mistaken for each other) at a movie set, where the story has its conclusive epiphany.

The Toymaker, for his part, has gone in search of his ‘children’ himself. Following the advice of a supernatural princess, he retraces the steps of his creations. His path is advanced by super-trippy visions, transcendental trances, saints, and sorcerers. He is challenged with his own fears, misconceptions, and prejudices of perspective. It is only by facing and overcoming these inner limitations, including his attachments to a lost love and his toys, that he is able to navigate the Zone and find his way back to his rightful dimension. When all the players are reunited on the movie set for the climax, the development and depth of the characters is fulfilled.

The Reel-Illusionary Zone is a deep meditation cleverly disguised as whimsical, art-house experimentation. Hartman and, indeed, all the talented creators and performers who bring this delightful fantasy to life can be proud. It’s a visual treat, a true work of art, full of thought and emotion that really shows off excellent mastery of classic minimalist film-making.

Written by Joseph James Bellamy
Editor: Deb Bellamy

Bernhardt's New Slate

Kevin Bernhardt, best known as a prolific Hollywood screenwriter, and his role in Hellraiser III, has a slew of new titles which are in the pre-production stages.

Among the titles are Daughter of Destiny, produced by Marianne Metropoulos, Shi, based on the popular Billy Tucci comic book, Blue Eyed Samurai, produced by Michael Steiger, The Dove, produced by Paul Schiff & Tai Duncan, The Charm School, produced by Philip Anschutz and Walden Media, an untitled ‘lookalike’ project produced by Pitchblack Pictures, and last but not least, Coup d'Etat which is being directed by Abel Ferrara. Coup was shelved around '99, but Bernhardt got back the rights and is now acting as producer on the project.

Aside from his role as J.P. Monroe and his Cenobitic alter-ego in the 1992 Action/Horror film Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth, Dean in Top of the World (1997), he starred as Billy Knox in The Immortals (1995) and was a series regular roles on "Dynasty" as Father Tanner McBride.

Written by Mark Donovan

FILM REVIEW: 13 Assassins, by Mark Donovan

Mark Donovan  FILM REVIEW: "13 Assassins," by Mark Donovan The second and possibly most memorable axiom in the Hagakure, the book of the Samurai, is this; “The way of the Samurai is found in death. When it comes to either/or, there is only the quick choice of death. It is not particularly difficult.” That is quite true. Death is easy, as is blind obedience.

 And, if director Takashi Miike had been reading the Hagakure, which he almost certainly did-- he probably also noticed this other axiom; “If you cut a face lengthwise, urinate on it, and trample on it with straw sandals, it is said the skin will come off.”

Miike is probably best known in America for two movies, Audition and Ichi the Killer, though he has made some 84 movies over 20 years, and for a while he was churning out films at the blistering pace of six per year. These days he seems to have limited himself to only directing two movies per year, which is still quite the accomplishment.

To say that his movies can be offbeat – or off-putting- would be putting it lightly. He is a director known for making weird genre mash-ups and films of almost staggering violence; his 2001 musical-comedy, Happiness of the Katakuris, featured dancing zombies and a claymation fistfight; Dead or Alive ended (spoiler) with the entire world exploding, and then went on to have two sequels. Given his reputation, the most surprising aspect of 13 Assassins is how straightforward and reserved the movie is.

The first hour is given over to political maneuvering and set-up. Lord Naritsugu (Goro Inagaki) is a sadistic feudal lord who enjoys violent oppression of the general population, to put it mildly. When other politicians hear that he is to become the Shogun’s chief advisor, they hire Samurai Shinzaemon (Koji Yakusho) to assassinate Naritsugu. From there, Shinzaemon assembles 11 other Samurai, and one outsider, to take on Naritsugu and the hundreds of men that are protecting him.

While 13 Assassins is a direct remake of a 1963 film by Eiichi Kudo, it owes quite a debt to Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai. It certainly has the feel of Seven Samurai, with more postmodern violence. The titular 13 assassins also have echoes of Kurosawa’s film, most notably Yusuke Iseya as a forest bandit who evokes Toshiro Mifune’s character Kikuchiyo.

Action film fans may find the earlier scenes to be a little on the slow side; especially if they aren’t inured to Japanese history, or classic Samurai films. Miike keeps the carnage to a minimum in the early going, letting the film build like Bolero towards its chaotic, extremely violent, and immensely enjoyable climax, set in a small town that has been turned into a death trap/maze. The fight scenes are shot extremely well, given the number of actors on the screen, and it rarely gets confusing in the way that most current action films do. The audience knows who the characters are, where they are, and what they are doing for the majority of the fight, save for a scene filmed from the perspective of a dying Samurai. And it was all done with a minimal amount of CGI. It is like the swords and Samurai version of the hospital shootout at the end of Hard Boiled.

Still, no Samurai movie would be complete without some philosophizing about the code of the Samurai. What do servants owe to their rulers? And what does a servant do when it is clear that their ruler is wrong? Why do so many choose to follow someone that is clearly not worthy of their faithfulness? Part of the fun of 13 Assassins comes from knowing that the 13 assassins are just in their cause, and that, at least in Miike’s film, right makes might.

Film website:/www.rubberthemovie.com

Written by Mark Donovan
Editor: TS Harmon

"CONVENTO": The Art of Living, by SM Crowningshield

S. M. Crowningshield Convento refers to the former monastery Convento Sao Francisco which sits on a green, wooded hill on the outskirts of the Portuguese village of Mértola. But its location is perhaps insignificant because the Convento is truly it’s own world. And director Jared Alterman captures that world beautifully, with a deft eye and clear reverence for the people -- and things -- that inhabit it.

As the film’s only textual captions will tell you at the beginning, the Convento itself was built in the 1600s to house Christian relics from The Crucifiction. It was a monastery until the 1830s, and remained abandoned for some 120 years after. It’s a rich history, and Convento shows how that history is continuing today. But rather than Christian monks it’s the Zwanikken family who now walk the corridors and tend the elaborate gardens. They also practice their own form of monkish dedication to their beliefs. Alterman says that the minute he stepped into the Convento and met the Zwanikkens, he knew he’d have to come back. And bring a camera.

Geraldine Zwanikken and her husband decided to move from the Amsterdam art scene decades ago and they bought the overgrown land and decrepit buildings that make up the Convento. They left the Netherlands not to escape anything -- in fact Geraldine was at the height of a ballet career -- but because they felt change was a good thing. It is great to do art for a crowds, but perhaps doing your own art for yourself could be something sublime. The Zwanikkens brought with them their two young sons, Louis and Christiaan, barely older than toddlers at the time.

Together they made the Convento into the world that it is today. They repaired the buildings, brought in electricity, began growing their food -- but more than that they created a world solely for themselves. Like the monks before them who distanced themselves from the rest of the world in order to perfect their reverence for God, the Zwanikkens began perfecting their reverence for life.

Today, some 30 years later, the boys are grown and their father has died (though Geraldine will tell you that death does not exist). She tends the grounds, trundling through the pond to pull the weed-like plants that prevent the turtles from surfacing. Always laughing and casual, she refers to it as the pond’s “haircut.” Louis focuses on the animals, putting so much time and effort into their care that director Alterman has said he could barely keep up. Louis has grown to think of the animals as friends.

They each clearly have reached that sublime status of pure life, living how they want to live. The things they must do are also the things they want to do. But it is the activities of Christiaan that perhaps best exemplifies this notion, and in a tangible way.

Christiaan is a kinetic artist. He blends mechanics and the remains of animals found on the property into otherworldly creatures that move and occasionally speak in awe-inspiring ways. It is his artwork that provides the strange helmeted-rabbit creation used to promote Convento, an image likely disturbing to some but one that is simply assembled from the components of our daily lives. Alterman shows these creations in action, he in fact collaborated with Christiaan to really bring them to life for the camera. The jaw bones that clatter effortlessly, the bird skulls that look left and right as if watching for prey -- they are all truly amazing.

Perhaps the most surprising piece of all is the ancient water well that pulls up water for the entire garden and for centuries was turned by donkey. In today’s Convento, it’s turned by a mechanical animal with tire treads for feet and ears that flit about as if swishing real flies away. It is artwork blended with practicality as much as it is modern mechanics blended with bits of nature’s own machines. 

Convento shows a world dedicated to that blend. The practicality of art, the art of living. It shows this with amazing images, alternating the strange with the familiar. It balances images of death with a casual air and occasional humor. The world that Alterman captures in Convento is a world well worth paying a visit to.

Website: Convento

Review written by S.M. Crowningshield
Editor: TS Harmon
Published by Modern Cinema Magazine
© Modern Cinema Magazine

"THE FUTURE": Man’s and Woman’s Search for Meaning, by Mark Donovan

There is an old adage that says, “Matters of great importance should be handled lightly.” I’d be willing to believe that Miranda July lives by that. Her new feature film, only her second, abounds in heady themes, yet she exerts a very delicate touch. She doesn’t let the material weigh down the film. It is actually quite amazing. For those that are a fan of Me and You and Everyone We Know, I’d say that this is an even better, more sure-handed film. For those that are not a fan of her earlier work, I’d implore you to give this film a chance. If the crowd at the Independent Film Festival Boston is to be believed, this may be the sleeper hit of the summer. It is certainly unlike any other film you will see in a theater this summer.

The film stars July and Hamish Linklater as a couple of bohemian slackers in Los Angeles who seem to avoid all responsibility and/or movement, lest it get in the way of all the wonderful things they plan to do if they could ever get off the couch. July is a dancer who gets stuck every time she starts to dance; it’s as if the weight of decisions renders her immobile. Meanwhile, Linklater is looking for a sign to point him towards his purpose in life, having not found one on his own. Together they decide to adopt a sick cat, of which the responsibility of caring for it is seen as an end to their youth and their freedom. Since the cat isn’t well enough for them to take home, they plan to spend their remaining month living life to its fullest. Did I mention that the cat- voiced by July- provides the narration?

The Future seems to exist in a somewhat dreamlike state; from July being stalked by her favorite shirt, to Linklater stopping time, the movie feels as if it is stuck somewhere between reality and a dream, with July and Linklater sleepwalking towards maturity. These characters are in a perpetual fugue state, which eventually begins to affect their relationships, both to each other and to the world around them.

July must have quite a lot on her mind. Just to give a quick run-through of some of these themes: the film deals with the future, the past, life, death, forgiveness, movement, fate, chance, time, responsibility, loneliness, relationships, decisions, the apocalypse, and many others. Though the themes may be somewhat heavy, the film is anything but. July, as writer and director, handles them with a light touch, allowing humor and ambiguity to come through. Most other films with such weighty ambitions can turn into an existential dirge, but this film seems to float on air.

This is a movie that defies characterization. Is it a comedy? A tragedy? A surrealist romance? There are scenes that evoke the mumblecore movement, and others that evoke David Lynch. Time skips around when it isn’t stopped altogether. There is a sublime sort of magic happening; whether it is July watching her life fast-forward in front of her, or Linklater wandering through a frozen L.A., or two gesticulating paws talking about the hardship of waiting. To go into any more detail would perhaps spoil the surprise of experiencing the film as it goes.

With just two feature length films to her name, July has shown that she has a gift for creating superbly original art that exists on its own level, but is easily enjoyed by almost all. Having been six years since her last feature length film, I hope she doesn’t take quite as long to make her next one. Though, if her next film is anywhere near as good as this one, it would be well worth the wait.

Hollywood: You Pull The Trigger On My Gun Love

Joseph Bellamy Hollywood: You Pull the Trigger on My Gun Love, by Joseph James Bellamy PG-13  is the second newest, next to the nearly unused NC-17 of MPAA ratings. We who are old enough to remember thought of it as “nearly R”, often pushing imagery to just short of the skin barrier. Allowing just enough violence to be fun; without a single F-bomb. It was an innocent creation of a slightly more innocent age, intended to save the already lost innocence of a generation. After all, how many among us hadn’t sneaked a peak at our big brother’s “reading material” or Dad’s beta tape collections by 1984 when the rating was first introduced?

Inevitably, time passes and all things must change. The same holds true of pop-culture, and for the PG-13 film, times have most assuredly changed.

Not long ago, my wife and I double-dated with some friends. In order to keep it light and fun for all concerned, we decided on the tween-actioner Sucker Punch. It was a fun, flashy, popcorn-fest to be sure. If you can imagine constructing a narrative from the frustrated musings of a contemporary 12-year-old boy, then you may have a sense of this film.

 I was settled in to the story, which centers on the disturbing misadventures of a group of teen girls in a shady mental health facility in the 60’s. I began to notice certain elements of the film were setting off bells in my head. The story takes place in three worlds. The first is the institution. The second is an alternate world, some sort of hyper-cabaret gentleman’s club and brothel, where the girls are the main attraction. The third is a non-sequitor pastiche of combat missions into war-torn fantasy landscapes that rival the top gamer favorites. In this world, the girls are presented as a squad of heavily armed and scantily clad super-commandos (including a naughty-as-she-wants-to-be-looking Vanessa Hudgens, who has apparently outgrown mouse-eared musicals) pitted against endless hordes of inhuman villains. It was the second and third worlds and their sequential relation to each other, that gave me pause. I began to pay more attention as a filmmaker, to what I was seeing. The pattern became starkly, worryingly obvious.

 Every time things in “Bordello World” reach the point of explicit exposure, we are moved by way of a MacGuffin device, cleverly disguised as a jailbait lap dance, to a battle sequence, a sort-of bloodless war-gasm, if you will. Interestingly enough, blood, at least as much as would be expected from so much violence, is conspicuously absent. It is made all the more conspicuous when one considers that it was the blood and gore of films such as Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom and Gremlins that gave rise to the rating in the first place. I doubt one would get much argument that both films would be considered tame in today’s Hollywood. 

Needless to say, by the end of the picture (which I did thoroughly enjoy incidentally) my mind was on spin cycle as I tried to remember if the PG-13 films of my youth presented the same aesthetic. I couldn’t think of one, which isn’t to say that it doesn’t exist; I just couldn’t and can’t come up with one. Since that day, I have watched (observed?) a number of more recent offerings that have earned this rating and there seems to be a discernable trend. Take the obviously unstoppable franchise of the Fast and the Furious for example. Nothing against the filmmakers, they’ve just made it work so well, it’s worth referencing. Stars Vin Diesel and Paul Walker, both have highly-flirtatious and highly-sexualized relationships with women. As the underlying tension escalates, not only is the sex avoided by the camera, but it seems the only solution to that tension is a fist-fight, a gun-fight, an explosion, or the franchise signature race/chase. The case is similar across the board and if the gimmicks aren’t for gear heads, they’re for gamers. Ask Mila Jovovich how to make a billion dollars and she’ll say two words, “Resident Evil”, and Peter Jackson is still trying to get a Halo movie made. 

I can understand keeping the sex under wraps. I can just as easily understand sanitizing the violence. What worries me is the thought that the sex = violence connection is being drilled into the minds of a very specific market: boys, age 11-14. Fusing seamlessly into an adolescent lifestyle typified, if not defined, by globe-spanning FPS video games, remote access socializing, and burgeoning sexuality, this kind of kiss-kiss, bang-bang may have further reaching effects than a mere 90 minutes of entertainment.  I won’t go so far, or be so paranoid, as to claim greater plan. That said, we live in a world where wars are fought with laser-guided missiles, drone planes, subs, and robotic weapons platforms. I’m not too comfortable with the next few generations of eligible serviceman having their trigger fingers hardwired to their private parts, a lifetime of simulator hours, and a taste for violence without consequence. Are you?      

Written by Joseph James Bellamy

Editor: TS Harmon

Published by Modern Cinema Magazine

© Modern Cinema Magazine

Deus ex Machina: A FILM REVIEW of "Little Gods" by Robert P. Young

Robert P. Young I recall seeing a post from a Facebook friend regarding the ubiquitous Hitler meme culled from the gripping movie Der Untergang. This scene is in Hitler’s bunker, where all is lost, and Hitler’s generals are reluctantly telling him that the cavalry will not arrive. Hitler characteristically explodes and blames everyone and everything but himself for losing the war.

It is powerfully acted by Bruno Ganz, but when it is subverted for use as a meme, Hitler dutifully rants about everything from losing at Xbox to hating the controversial revamp of Star Trek to expressing disgust at LeBron James’ “decision.”

Technology now allows us to alter what was once sobering into something incongruously mundane.

What if soldiers—and I hope non-Axis ones—had iPhones back in the 1940’s? Despite the politics of the leaders, average soldiers are pretty similar. Young. Full of bravado. Ball-busting constantly. Fearful. Unintentionally poignant.

Gods’ lead character, Private Doss (Matthew Schlichter) is no John Wayne as a soldier. (Doubly so—Doss actually served.) Wide-eyed, youthful, it’s surprising that he’s married, rather than playing the field with girls his age. But then again, he’s in the military, a world in which men take on responsibility earlier than the average man-child Kay Hymowitz writes about.

Where does Doss come from? We see his family about halfway into the film. His wife is pleasant enough. But Doss’s blood relatives have the real spark—dysfunctional even as they send their video messages of love. His mother is overbearing, physically dominating the screen by standing too close to the camera. She casually embarrasses her older son, Danny, by claiming that her late husband would be proud only of the son in Afghanistan. Like a good suburban mother, her suspicions about why her thirty-five year old son “with a good job” still lives with a male “roommate” are only skin-deep. Did Doss join the military to get away from this dynamic, or because there weren’t other good jobs like his brother’s? The film doesn’t answer those questions, but having them in the back of my mind deepened my interest.

Back in Afghanistan, each of the soldiers gets a chance to mug for the camera, and it seems like this will be a spring break video in “camo” gear. Then we are reminded that this is war. Doss’s best friend, a smart-mouthed, resourceful black man nicknamed “Trench,” is ignominiously killed while defecating in the open air.

Immediately after, Doss’s traumatized eye fills the frame, unblinking, almost as if it is as dead as his friend’s. Though overused later, this is a strong choice.

Back in the barracks, the soldiers’ superior officer expresses his regret that not all of his men will return home. Trench’s sleeping bag is rolled up and his effects surround his cot. Seeing the space, for the first time without the man, was striking—it made me feel his death far more powerfully than seeing a corpse. The real pain of death is what you leave behind.

Doss descends into depression and anti-social behavior. The line readings, which previously played out as 100% spontaneous and improvisational, seemed a little less convincing after this turning point, a side-effect of what I suspect was the need to adhere somewhat more closely to the script. Despite this slight lessening of the fly-on-the-wall/ documentary feeling, it is not to the detriment of the film overall. In fact, Schlichter's charisma easily, as well as that of the entire cast overpowers any shortcomings in the shooting technique.

Spear’s unflinching choice to show the unpleasant side of the iPhone, a voyeuristic device at the most inappropriate times--especially when a maimed (and possibly dying) soldier pleads with Doss not to film him in his condition—is quite impressive. True, Doss is capturing a powerful moment, much like a photographer would have captured Pulitzer-prize winning images from 9/11 or Katrina, but it begs the question, where is your humanity, your decency, when you choose to film rather than to help?

The soldiers are fascinatingly vulnerable human beings. This is where I believe the film is most successful, in depicting our soldiers as people we would—and do—have a beer with, rather than as statistics, victims, or killers. Yet these ordinary men have volunteered to put themselves into extraordinary circumstances. They are demigods—little gods—with their courage.

When future generations look back at our generation’s wars, they will not be separated from their ancestors like we were with the barriers of black and white footage and stagecraft from the media and the government. They will have great gifts like Ms. Spear’s Little Gods, which will illustrate the unfiltered horrors of war along with the triumphs of survival. Little Gods will not only reduce you to tears, it will get your blood boiling. Little Gods is a triumph as a film, and doubtlessly it will do more for today's soldiers than any recruiting ad will.

Don’t ignore this iPhone call.

Film: "Little Gods"
Director: Elizabeth Spear
Film's website: www.littlegodsfilm.com
Screening at Reel Fest, March 15th, 2011 www.reelfest.org

Review written by Robert P. Young III
Editor: TS Harmon
Published by Modern Cinema Magazine

LOOK! UP ON THE SCREEN! by Joseph James Bellamy

JJ Bellamy

All of you who read my work regularly know that I am a huge fan of comics and the superhero sub culture. It should come as no surprise to all four of you that I was very excited to see Captain America: the First Avenger. Having seen it, I can now say with total clarity that it was absolutely, positively, totally…adequate. I could not help but think a character with such a sense of legacy, not to mention importance, to the upcoming Avenger’s film franchise deserved a weightier, deeper treatment. Luckily, the cure for exposure to the kryptonite of a lackluster superhero flick was near at hand.

Superheroes (HBO, Monday 8/8, 9pm) Michael Barnett’s documentary look at the real-life superhero movement saves the day. The film focuses on a cross-section of the movement’s more interesting advocates, with origins as diverse as an EMT student, a married couple, and even reformed drug addicts and criminals. Through the eyes of such dedicated individuals as Master Legend of Orlando, Mr. Extreme, securing the streets of San Diego, and the hyper-organized New York Initiative, we see a world in the grip of real evils. While at first it seems ludicrous to even consider dressing up in bright colors and body armor to become a symbol of justice, the subjects of Superheroes are far from kidding. Let us not forget that in the real world, Bruce Wayne would be considered a bit of an eccentric nut.

The look and approach of real-life superheroes is certainly extreme; it is easy to ignore their message in favor of ridiculing their appearance. Beneath the masks, costumes, and somewhat awkward tendency to speak in dramatic phrase, are considerate, compassionate people, who help wherever they can, from pitching in at hit-and-run scenes to bringing life-saving basics to the homeless and helpless of their community. Some are even willing to put their lives and safety on the line, confronting drug dealers and conducting coordinated anti-street crime stings. 

I was impressed and inspired by these people and their cause. I found myself reminded of why I had run around the backyard as a child, with a towel tied around my neck and my arms outstretched before me. The heart of this film is spoken in earnest by Mr. Extreme, “It doesn’t take super powers to be a superhero,” he says, protective goggles in place, Wanted flyers in hand. “It takes being super motivated and doing super deeds.”

Leaping into action Monday night @ 9pm on HBO, Superheroes is a hopeful delight, a positive, real-life crusade for justice that is not to be missed!



Written by by Joseph James Bellamy
Editor: Deb Bellamy