Where High Gets Low.
Line up the body bags: All, 2007, by Maurizio Cattelan, at the New Museum. (Photo by C-M.)
Since New Museum curator Richard Flood doesn’t understand what blogs are, I’ve helpfully saved my prairie dog opinions for WNYC, where I’ve got a two-parter on the hot mess known as Skin Fruit. Part one: my take on the show. Part two: Skin Fruit by the numbers, or how a museum that is supposed to be all about ‘new’ is doing a show that is everything but.
Enjoy!!
xox,
C.
The ties that bind: Swinton e famiglia in I Am Love. (Image courtesy of New Directors/New Films.)
I AM LOVE
Directed by Luca Guadagnino
120 minutes
Screening Fri., April 2 and Sun., April 4
Let’s just get this out of the way, we LOVE Tilda Swinton. From her early collaboration with the late Derek Jarman (that naughty little iconoclast), to her Oscar-winning turn in Michael Clayton to what should have been another award-winning performance in last year’s Julia (Sandra Bullock? Really, Oscar voters?), Tilda has proven to be one of the most consistently reliable performers in contemporary cinema. Her latest work is no exception. Italian auteur Luca Guadagnino’s I Am Love focuses on La Swinton’s star turn as the matriarch to a powerful Milanese famiglia whose sense of tradition begins to unravel when passion threatens to disrupt their carefully manicured lifestyle.
There are many things to enjoy in this film: the refreshing focus on contemporary Italian landscapes, the gliding camerawork reminiscent of maestro Robert Altman, the beauty of Italian boys (mamma mia!) and the very welcome return of ’70s fashion icon and actress Marisa Berenson, perfectly cast as the regal grand dame of the beleaguered brood. But the film belongs to Swinton. Crafted as a labor of love between herself and the director, she owns every minute of screen time. Outwardly cool as a former Russian beauty that married into a filthy rich industrial family, her frosty exterior begins to dissolve once she meets her eldest son’s best friend, a hirsute chef with a penchant for exotic recipes and a hunger for life.
The film maintained our interest throughout — with a couple of glaring exceptions. To help visualize the inner passions that have been simmering underneath Swinton’s carefully-coiffed veneer, Guadagnino indulges in some very florid transitional montages that simply come out of left field. We understand the psychology behind the choice, but did not appreciate the excess. And for a movie that does so well in portraying the intricate familial relationships of a large Italian clan, the scenes that involve the business side of their empire fall flat. (Joan Collins was more convincing as a successful businesswoman.)
What makes this film memorable is the handling of the characters and the performances. We understand these people, we care about them and when the movie builds momentum in its shattering final set piece, we are completely hooked. Aided immeasurably by renowned modern classical composer John Adams’ minimalist score, not to mention the balls-to-the-walls acting, the climax is satisfying on all levels. While we enjoyed the ride immensely, however, we would like to caution viewers to pay close attention to the final moments: Once the end credits begin to roll, we implore you to grab your Fendi clutch and RUN! Apparently, the director could not resist one final lapse in judgment, a tacked on coda that almost ruins the solid ending.
À Bientôt!
***
Find the key to our Schnabel heads ratings system here. For more information on the New Directors/New Films festival, log on to their official website.
Bad Precedent, by Aaron Johnson. (Image courtesy of NOWhere Limited.)
Hey Folks:
The folks at NOWhere Limited, an online prints shop out of Colorado, along with artist Aaron Johnson, have kindly given us a print to give away on C-Mon. Y’all know the drill. Leave a comment and it could soon be hangin’ on yer walls.
xox,
C.
Love Seat, 2008, by Sean Johnson. Part of the exhibit, This Growing Up Stuff… at Howard House in Seattle, opens Thursday at 6pm. Artist talk this Saturday at noon. (Image courtesy of Howard House.)
In other news: New Museum curator Richard Flood’s bloggers-are-prairie-dogs speech has lit up the interwebs. Let’s start with Conscientious, who does a brilliant take-down, stating that Flood is channeling his “inner Sarah Palin” and that if bloggers are prairie dogs, then mainstream media are also prairie dogs…who operate in slow motion. True, that. Next up: Jerry Saltz, whose infamous Facebook page was a target in Flood’s trash-a-thon, provided a handy list of how the NuMu might stop annoying people. Ed Winkleman pulled out his mini prairie-dog bazooka (and provides some interesting thoughts to chew on). Tyler Green helpfully points out that major institutions, um, blog, too. AFC issued a YouTube video response. And Hyperallergic, which got the whole brouhaha going, came back with an extensive round-up of reactions to the speech. Plus, late update: this hilarious Tweet from @SpumoniNick.
Taking it to the Streets: A young woman joins a protest in 1953 Iran. (Image courtesy of New Directors/New Films.)
WOMEN WITHOUT MEN
Directed by Shirin Neshat
100 minutes
Screening Tues., March 30 and Wed., March 31
C-Monster: Reinforcing what we already know
When it comes to the Middle East, the issue of gender — and gender inequity — is one of endless fascination to the West. We regularly read, comment and discuss disquieting stories about honor killings and burqas and the ways in which some women are treated little better than farm animals. (Less fascinating to us: the West’s role in propping up corrupt, exploitative oligarchies for the sake of cheap oil.) It is in this space that Iranian-born artist Shirin Neshat has most frequently operated, creating lush, cinematic photographs and videos that show Middle Eastern women in a decidedly non-traditional light (singing, holding weapons).
With her first full-length feature film, Neshat is once again exploring the lives of women, this time the intersecting lives of four women in the tumultuous days of early 1950s Iran: a trapped wife, a politically-minded young woman, a love-stricken girl and a prostitute. Like her video art, the film offers some lovely moments. A stark, white adobe building is framed by a luminous sky. Female figures clad in fluttering black chadors disappear into a bright desert horizon. A few rays of light slip through a set of archways to gently illuminate a traditional Persian bath. But there’s little else to sink your teeth into. The narrative is wan (men bad, women good) and the principal characters are opaque to the point of inducing narcolepsy. In her art, Neshat has illustrated what we already know about gender relations in the Middle East. Women Without Men — which clocks in at an hour and 40 minutes — was an opportunity to address all the complexities and ambiguities that lie beneath the surface. Sadly, it does not.
Rating:
Yvonne Connasse: Pretty to look at…
We couldn’t agree more. Being unfamiliar with Neshat’s art, but aware that she had copped the Best Director prize at the 2009 Venice Film Festival for her debut, we were anxious to see what all the fuss was about. Post viewing, we must agree completely with C-Monster’s take on this superficial attempt to combine human drama with political intrigue. Unlike her fellow Iranian filmmakers, Abbas Kiarostami or Jafar Panahi, who excel at balancing intimate portraits set against a greater social landscape, Neshat is incapable of making us care for her characters despite her ability to compose beautiful images. (To be certain, visual artists can be solid filmmakers, British artist-cum-director Steve McQueen proved this with his haunting 2008 flick, Hunger, about an IRA volunteer’s fatal hunger strike in a Belfast prison.)
Moreover, while the use of four disparate female archetypes may have a proven track record for American sit-coms, this film fails to make them come alive. On the whole we’d rather watch Dorothy, Blanche and the gals gather in their kitchen to eat cheesecake and discuss Fidel Castro, than lumber through this lackluster attempt at socio-political film making. Having seen Women, we can honestly say we have little interest in viewing Neshat’s art. Instead, to help clear our minds, we’re going to rent some classics in the same genre: The Battle of Algiers, Z, The Lives of Others. Now, that’s good movie making!
Rating:
***
Find the key to our Schnabel heads ratings system here. For more information on the New Directors/New Films festival, log on to their official website.
Hyena, by Ping Zhu. (Image courtesy of Ping Zhu.)
The first thing that entered my head when I stood in front of Marcos Zimmermann‘s astonishing silver gelatin portraits of nude working class men from South America was, How the heck did he get these guys to do this? This is not a part of the world known for embracing male nudity (especially in traditionally modest societies like Bolivia). The answer to my question was pretty simple, however: Zimmermann paid his subjects–all working class men who needed the money. It was well worth it. Best known for his dramatic landscape photographs, the Argentinean photographer manages to capture these men at their most vulnerable, but also their most powerful.
The photos are on show as part of the exhibit Desnudos Sudamericanos, at Couturier Gallery in Los Angeles, through April 17.
***
Top to bottom: Mario, changador, Mercado Rodríguez, La Paz, Bolivia (2006); Pablo y Marino, malabaristas callejeros en una casa tomada, San Isidro, provincia de Buenos Aires, Argentina (2002); Muchachos en una terraza, Favela Cantagalo, Rio de Janeiro, Brasil (2006). (All images courtesy of Couturier.)
A still from Tell Me About Your Dreams, an animated film by Christine Rebet. Part of the exhibit Decalogue: Films You Can Count on Two Hands, organized by Eve Sussman, at Edward Winkleman Gallery, opens Saturday at 6pm. (Image courtesy of Winkleman.)
Two outback teens await a not-so-promising future. (Image courtesy of New Directors/New Films.)
SAMSON AND DELILAH
Directed by Warwick Thornton
101 minutes
Screening Thurs., March 25th and Sun., March 28th
The legend of Samson and Delilah has been influencing artists since the sand and sandal days of yore. From Michelangelo to Rembrandt to Basquiat, the strongman and the seductress have been depicted in paintings, statues, grand operas and of course, movies. Dozens of them. The latest is the feature debut of Australian director Warwick Thornton. A beautifully filmed update, it transplants the biblical tale to the modern-day Australian desert, specifically, a remote Aboriginal community that is home to two teenagers destined to fall in love.
Samson is a petrol-huffing teen whose only purpose appears to be to daydream and torment his family. Delilah cares for her aging grandmother, an artist who spends her days crafting large canvases for which she is paid a pittance — but which upscale art galleries then resell for a tidy sum. The first third of the film is Jeanne Dielman-meets-the-outback, repeating the bare bones existence of a young couple that will come to rely on each other when the world turns its back on them.
And ye Gods, does it ever! After a family tragedy, the duo find themselves outcasts from their village and take to the road in a stolen car. Here, the film takes on a slow ride down a very dark tunnel that threatens to overwhelm the lead characters and the audience in turn. While good movies can be made from the darkest of themes — Last Exit to Brooklyn, Dogville, a good chunk of the Bergman ouevre — it takes a great commitment from the part of the audience to sit through what is essentially a passion play of the underprivileged. We watch as Samson begins to lose himself completely to his addiction, while Delilah braves humiliation and physical harm in order to help them survive.
This is not an easy film to sit through, but we were grateful that Thornton has the touch of a true filmmaker in being able to tell a story visually, with forceful, rich images. His movie may not be on par with a similar auteur approach (Terrence Malick comes to mind), but it is nonetheless a notable achievement for a new director. If the pain and suffering of the title characters is meant to be an allegory for the indigenous people of Australia, it certainly succeeds. It’s an admirable debut from a director whose future work we look forward to, perhaps after a few drinks to steady our nerves.
À Bientôt
***
Find the key to our Schnabel heads ratings system here. For more information on the New Directors/New Films festival, log on to their official website.
