Homework is a disappointingly bland, coming-of-age tale about malcontent teenagers, placed in a world so ridiculous, the film simply begs not to be taken seriously. Sundance should be ashamed of bringing this film into a year where the lineup is particularly strong. And director Gavin Wiesen should have skipped the independent film step all together and gone immediately to direct Sandra Bullock films where he’ll consistently make plenty of money, and plenty of Golden Razzies.
The cast is led by Freddie Highmore, the actor who broke as the adorably depressed orphan in Finding Neverland. Since then, he’s consistently chosen mediocre projects that actually seem to be a good fit for him. He plays George, a fatalistic teenager who’s about to graduate a private high school in New York, despite having never turned in a single assignment for the last year. He’s really meant to be depressed, but Highmore just doesn’t have the skills to make anyone believe it. He doesn’t seem to be able to do anything without a half smile and a glint in his eye. If we can’t believe he’s depressed, we must believe he’s just lazy. And what is interesting or new about a lazy, unmotivated teenager unsatisfied with what is actually a pretty good life?
Of all the films creating buzz at Sundance this year, Matthew Chapman’s film The Ledge is getting some of the loudest. There’s no doubt that its celebrity cast is helping as it stars Liv Tyler, Patrick Wilson, and Terrance Howard. That is a cast that can draw attention. But while there are some great performances, The Ledge doesn’t seem to stand out among all the great Sundance films this year.
To the Chapman’s credit, he admits that he decided he would write the exact type of script he wanted to, quite certain it would never be made. How it actually came to be a feature film will be explored further in an interview with the director (coming soon). The story begins a bit romantically, with a man, standing on a ledge, readying himself to make the jump. This man is named Gavin and he’s played by the British actor Charlie Hunnam. Howards plays Hollis, the officer in charge of talking him down. And Tyler and Wilson play a married fundamentalist Christian couple, Shauna and Joe. Gavin’s been givin’ to Shauna on the regular, and his pending suicide has something to do with Joe’s discovery of the affair. It all unfolds slowly, as Gavin tells it to Hollis on the ledge.
Jess + Moss is the first experimental film I’ve seen at Sundance this year that has really stretched the definition of filmmaking. With this disclaimer, it’s not really necessary to say it, but I will. Jess + Moss is not a conventional narrative. It will probably test the patience of most of its viewers. And there is not, by any means, any sort of closure offered to comfort those that sit through the duration of its eighty two minutes.
What director Clay Jeter was more interested in is the exploration of memories, and how we relate to them. It looks at ideas and emotions that run through our heads without being coherent, but in the same rite, are still violently influential and relevant to our psyches. What he’s created here is more of an epic poem, than a feature film. A modern Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner which takes place on a farm in rural Kentucky. Two characters take up ninety nine percent of the film’s screen time. They are the titular characters Jess, and Moss. They’re epic characters in the sense they can represent so much to so many people, without an exact definition of who the are and what they really stand for. They’re aptly placed in dreamlike surrounding of staggeringly beautiful colors. The two act and react to each other for what seems like a portion of the summer, judging by the size of the crops they play around.
Gregg Araki had a lot to say about his film Kaboom when introducing it at yesterday’s screening. It’s his tenth feature film, his eighth to screen at Sundance, and the first one to go to Cannes. He called it his ‘most overtly Lynchian’ film and his most beautiful and autobiographical movie, whatever the hell that means. If I’m reading the film right, it means he slept with a lot of people in a college, filled with cult members, witches with special powers and all the students there score a nearly perfect three on the Kinsey scale.
He gave the film the tagline ‘a bisexual Twin Peaks that takes place in college’. When asked about his decision to place the story in college, he explained he found that point in people’s life extremely interesting, a time when you really discover who you are, what your sexuality is, and what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life. All of this, mind you, was the introduction. He didn’t stick around for a Q&A.
It seemed that all anyone was talking about opening weekend at Park City was Like Crazy. Of course, Red State hadn’t been screened yet, and Kevin Smith hadn’t already acted a damn fool. But that’s besides the point. Everyone is really excited about Like Crazy. Including me.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that Kelly Reichardt’s Meek’s Cutoff was one the films I anticipated most at this year’s Sundance. Believe it or not, I didn’t even know who made up the majority of the principle cast, which I now know includes Paul Dano, Shirley Henderson, Bruce Greenwood and Will Patton. What made me anticipate this movie so excitedly was the repairing of Reichardt and Michelle Williams. After the devastating portrait of a women and her dog with no home, Wendy and Lucy in 2008, I would watch anything the pair do together. What I love about Ms. Reichardt’s films is her ability to capture complex situations and emotions in simplistic, minimalistic way. In Old Joy, barely a word is spoken but through her filmmaking, everything is understood. This is what I was hoping for in Meek’s Cutoff, and I got it.
The exploration of cult dynamics and their psychological effects on its members is not really anything new for film. It’s been examined, and re-examined a million times. Even so, there’s something fresh and exciting about T. Sean Durkin’s film, Martha Marcy May Marlene. It’s a seemly ridiculous title that no one can seem to get right. But it immediately becomes evident how apt it is for a film about a cult-like community where women slowly distort and lose their identities.
The titular character is played by Elizabeth Olsen, older sister to the famous twins. It’s admirable this is her first feature film, that she chose not to ride on the coattails of her sisters that, I’m sure, could have easily gotten her roles. For the sake of clarity, I’ll simply call her Martha, although the names she uses changes throughout the film depending on where she’s at.
Bellflower is a genuinely upsetting film in all the very best ways. It was filmed on a shoestring budget, and yet for the most part, you would never be able to tell. It’s a terrifyingly beautiful, in an apocalyptic sort of way. This is the exact type of experimental filmmaking that Sundance has been charged with discovering and nurturing.
To explain what Bellflower about is a bit of a conundrum. First, the best thing you can do is go into this movie totally blind, which is a rare treat film festivals, particularly Sundance, provides. Secondly, wrapping your mind around it is a bit difficult. It follows best friends, Woodrow (played by Evan Glodell who also wrote and directed), and Aiden (Tyler Dawson). The two spend their free time building a flamethrower, and daydreaming about an apocalypse that would leave them and their invented devices of destruction free to reign. A girl, Milly, comes into the picture as Woodrow’s girlfriend, and she really, really messes things up. But not in that bro-mance way, Aiden doesn’t get jealous, nothing that predictable or familiar will be found in Bellflower. The story just begins spiraling down into a strange, brain-damaged madness full of angst-y male testosterone.
In Devil, a virgin-ally innocent woman, gets a flat tire on her way back to the city. She had gone to visit an orphanage, it was her birthday. While waiting for a tow truck a serial rapist and murder named Kyung-Chul (Choi Min-sik, whom you may remember from Oldboy) brutally attacks her, and cuts her into pieces. The fiancée of this victim, Kim Soo-hyeon (Byung-hun Lee) just happens to be a secret agent of some kind, but he’s clearly a psychopath himself. He tracks down Kyung-Chul, and brutally tortures him, puts a tracking device in him, and lets him go. Kim Soo-hyeon follows Kyung-Chul, and like some sort of twisted superhero, he intercedes every time Kyung-Chul is about to re-offend. Each time, Kim’s torture gets more, and more brutal. At some point, Kyung-Chul finally discovers the identity of his attacker, and the two start a cat and mouse game attacking each other where it hurts, the whole time avoiding the police, who would end their disgusting game.
Lost Kisses (I baci mai dati) is a charming little Italian film with an interesting mix of pro and anti-religious ideas. It comes from writer/director Roberta Torre. At times due to the flowing cinematography and the focus on a deprived area outside of Sicily, it reminds of a Federico Fellini film. It follows a thirteen year old girl, Manuela, who is getting lost in the shuffle. Her home life is tense, her mother and father are edgy, the father’s unemployment mostly responsible. Manuela’s older sister steals from her mother’s purse, and is a bit loose with her morals.
In the piazza Manuela’s apartment overlooks, a statue of the Madonna is erected, something the highly religious community is grateful for, and in awe of. Careless boys accidentally knock the head off the Madonna in the middle of the night, and they hide pieces in a storage shed nearby. Manuela claims the Madonna came to her in a dream, and told her where she could find the missing pieces of the statue. It’s unclear whether Manuela is a saint, or just a bored girl making up stories. It doesn’t matter to her desperate family and neighbors, who come to her seeking miracles. Manuela’s mother finds there’s big money in miracle workers, and she starts milking for all she can
