Sometimes I Think About Dying

SD23 Sometimes I Think About Dying

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Kevin Armento’s play “Killers” inspired both Stefanie Abel Horowitz’s 2019 short film “Sometimes, I Think About Dying” and Rachel Lambert’s 2023 feature “Sometimes I Think About Dying” (no comma this time). Both movies were Sundance Film Festival selections. The former, which was also programmed in the pandemic-derailed 2020 Fargo Film Festival, can currently be viewed on Horowitz’s Vimeo page. The latter, which stars Daisy Ridley clearly relishing a change of pace from the “Star Wars” universe, is just as good. Director Lambert includes many of the same story beats in a dark and heartfelt comedy/drama light years from the galactic adventures of Rey.

Ridley, who also serves as one of the movie’s producers, plays Fran, a quiet wallflower with a bleak outlook on the world. Fran is observably competent and capable in her dreary office job. Her quotidian routine provides plenty of time for daydreams, which, true to the title, frequently include – but are not necessarily limited to – visions of her own death. Lambert and Ridley make a terrific team. Introverts will nod knowingly – privately and individually – in agreement as Fran is seen and not so much heard by her coworkers. The director establishes a rhythm via Fran’s relentless daily coping mechanisms. But that predictable schedule is interrupted with the arrival of Robert (Dave Merheje).

After the cringe-inducing ice-breaker at the team meeting that introduces Robert in one of Lambert’s sharpest scenes, we discover that he shares Fran’s off-kilter sense of humor. Soon, the new colleague has Fran thinking about spending time together away from work, a major step for the guarded and careful skeptic. Movie dates and participation in a murder mystery party (the latter is another of the film’s highlights) seem like the usual prelude to a blossoming love match, but Lambert mines Fran’s prickliest tendencies in ways that are frustratingly familiar to anyone who regularly gets in the way of their own happiness.

Any movie that uses the meaningless drudgery of the low-stakes workplace invites comparisons to cubicle standard-bearers like “Office Space” and both the original and American versions of “The Office.” The sleepy Oregon setting (some of the film’s location photography took place in Astoria) perfectly suits Fran’s attitude and wardrobe, mirroring the protagonist’s carefully cultivated sense of safety. But Lambert reaches for something resonant in Fran’s anxieties and depression. “Sometimes I Think About Dying” is a story about making meaningful human connections and taking risks.

In one sense, the movie introduces a quivering spin to the romantic comedy. In another, this is a movie about making peace with yourself. Several critics have taken issue with Lambert’s careful pacing, offering the old complaint that “not enough happens” in the movie. I would counter that the contents of the story and the way in which they are delivered is by design and not at all an indicator of some deficiency. In one great moment, Fran sees her old officemate Carol (Marcia Debonis) after the latter has retired. Their exchange could work as a self-contained short on its own. In it, everything happens.

Collecting Movies With Mike Flanagan

HPR CM Mike Flanagan (2023)

Interview by Greg Carlson

On Saturday, March 25, filmmaker Mike Flanagan returns to the Fargo Film Festival, where “Absentia,” his debut feature, made its world premiere in 2011. This time, he will be joined by his wife and regular collaborator Kate Siegel to talk about projects including “Hush,” “The Haunting of Hill House,” “The Haunting of Bly Manor,” “Midnight Mass,” and others. Flanagan and Siegel will receive the Ted M. Larson Award, the festival’s highest honor.

Tickets for “An Evening With Mike Flanagan and Kate Siegel” are available at the Fargo Theatre box office.

 

Greg Carlson: What was the first movie that left a big impression on you?

Mike Flanagan: The first movie that I remember seeing that had a big impact on me was “Jaws.” That was probably the most influential movie for me. I feel like I watched it 100 times while I was growing up. I learned about filmmaking from that movie. As I got older, I appreciated different aspects of cinema by studying it.

I first saw “Jaws” on a pan-and-scan VHS tape and then later on a letterboxed LaserDisc. Suddenly, it was a different movie when I could see the whole frame. That difference alone helped me understand aspect ratios. I was one of the many who erroneously believed that if I saw black bars on the top and bottom of my screen it meant that part of the picture had been removed, and not the other way around.

Thanks to DVD and Blu-ray, I got to learn even more about the process of moviemaking, becoming more aware of how to make a film through those repeat viewings. “Casablanca” was another hugely influential film for me when I was growing up. But I really got serious about wanting to make movies after I saw Brian De Palma’s “The Untouchables.”

The first movie I made, shot on VHS in my backyard with my friends, was a remake of “The Untouchables.”

 

GC: Fantastic. Was this a truncated version or a shot-for-shot remake like the “Raiders of the Lost Ark” adaptation by Eric Zala, Chris Strompolos and Jayson Lamb?

MF: I think it was about a 25-minute movie, but it did tell the whole story. We included whatever we could get away with shooting in my family’s house. I played Elliot Ness. We went through all the major story beats of the feature. Our film wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as the “Raiders” adaptation.

 

GC: Did you see lots of movies in the theater when you were growing up?

MF: Going to the movies was a great way for my family to get my younger brother and me to relax. The go-to was the Cineplex Odeon at the Market Place Mall in Bowie, Maryland. We could ride our bikes there. It was a six-screen theater that eventually became my first job. I started working there in concessions when I was 15 and stayed until I was 22. Working at a theater taught me a lot about the exhibition of movies. I learned projection. And I learned about film composers by listening to credits while I cleaned the auditoriums.

 

GC: When I worked at the Century in Fargo, I listened to “The Little Mermaid” and “The Silence of the Lambs” dozens of times.

MF: I was working when “The Lion King” came out. I remember all the dialogue from that movie. It was on at least three screens and required crowd management. This was before stadium seating, which ended up killing my theater. It finally closed in 1999. We had 15-minute breaks and I would grab some food and sit against the wall in the back of the auditorium because we weren’t allowed to sit in the seats. I watched a lot of movies in quarter-hour chunks. I timed my breaks so I could see new sections of the films each day.

 

GC: Did your family encourage your interest in moviemaking?

MF: They were supportive of moviemaking as a hobby. They gave us access to the house. My parents appeared in my movies sometimes. They preferred that we were doing that rather than having us out in the world unsupervised. If we were making movies, they knew where we were. One of them even said, “At least you’re not out there drinking and getting high.”

When I said I wanted to make movies for a living, there was some very healthy skepticism of that idea. I received a lot of encouragement to think about doing anything else. I tried to obey by being an education major when I went to college. I planned to teach history. But after my first year, I pivoted once I took an introduction to film class. I knew it was what I really wanted to do. I remember my parents being worried for me.

As a student, I made some Mini-DV features. And I had some great teachers. One of them was Tom Brandau. Tom had just made “Cold Harbor” He was proof positive that one could be a feature filmmaker.


GC: Tom inspired so many students in so many ways.

MF: He had a huge impact on me. I met him in the film department at Towson University. I ended up taking several of his classes, including directing for the camera. Tom was a teacher I admired and respected, but we also became friends very quickly. We would hang out after class sometimes. I would help with his projects. I got to help with post-production on “Cold Harbor” when he was finishing it up. He appeared as an actor in my projects, something he did for many of his students.

Tom was my favorite instructor at Towson and the one I grew closest to, personally. If we had a birthday party, or similar event, Tom was the rare teacher who was welcomed into that circle. We stayed in constant communication after I graduated and moved to Los Angeles. There was, and still is, a network of Brandau alumni in L.A. It is even bigger now than it was when I got here.

Tom was unique among the faculty because he was a feature filmmaker. Tom had a body of work to back up everything that he was teaching us. His practical experience on set was invaluable. You learned from Tom in the classroom but you also learned from Tom in the field. He would be there to support student projects no matter how small. He would show up on a Sunday morning at 5 a.m.

He was a mentor and a friend and a formative part of my life. I miss him a ton. I am so happy to be returning to Fargo but I am so sad he won’t be there.

 

GC: We have Tom to thank for bringing you and your work to the Fargo Film Festival.

MF: That’s right. “Oculus” back in 2006. And then in 2011, you hosted the world premiere of “Absentia.” Tom always urged me to keep shooting and to do whatever I had to do to make a living out here. Tom celebrated every new job. I can hear him saying, “That is great! That is great! Master that job. Seize the opportunity to learn more.”

Later, when his health was declining, I didn’t always know what was going on with him, which I regret very much. I invited him to visit me on my sets. I gave Tom a tour during “The Haunting of Hill House” shoot. He got to see the Overlook set on “Doctor Sleep.”

 

GC: I saw some of those photos. He and Janet absolutely loved that.

MF: Generous is the word that describes him. His earnestness as a person also radiates out of his work. He demonstrates the idea that you can feel a filmmaker through the screen. He understood the value of turning that camera in on yourself as much as on the subject of your film, like he did with “Cold Harbor.” He chose not to hide where that story came from and he used the film to process what was going on in his family. And that was inspiring to us.

It is easy in this industry to be discouraged. Too often, people criticize you and try to hold you down, but Tom always lifted you up. He was generous and he was brave and he was gentle, always.

 

GC: We know how Tom felt about physical media. Are you a collector as well?

MF: Yes. I am a huge supporter of physical media. I still have some LaserDiscs, even though I currently need a working player. Physical media is critical. Critical to the study of cinema and to the survival of cinema. I have worked for the last four years at Netflix, which is kind of the enemy when it comes to physical media. I tried so hard to change the position from inside, to get them to invest in physical media. I wasn’t successful. Now that I am at Amazon, things are different. They are more supportive of physical media.

There are some movies I have bought on every format, including HD DVD. A few titles I feel like I have bought a dozen times, since they are very wise to crank out all the various editions. I have bought “The Evil Dead” trilogy so many times. “Army of Darkness” alone, I have purchased multiple times. There’s another new edition on the way and, well, yeah, I’m going to buy that one, too.

I have several editions of “The Godfather,” “Casablanca,” “Lawrence of Arabia.” And just when I think I have it cracked with these beautiful sets, 4K UHD changes everything again. Back to the drawing board. The Criterion Collection is very important to me, and now their library is starting to get the 4K UHD upgrade. Sometimes without changing the artwork. And I’m buying them again!

Collecting movies is a major priority for me and has been since I started a VHS collection. When I made my own movies on VHS, I spent days hand-drawing and designing the boxes because they weren’t real until they could be on the shelf next to the others in the collection.

 

GC: Do you archive copies of your own movies?

MF: For my own work, I have sought out every domestic and international release that I am aware of. It is fun to chase them down. The Japanese set for “Doctor Sleep” is my favorite one. Comes with a wonderful booklet that I can’t read, but it looks great.

For the Netflix projects, I have sought out Blu-ray bootlegs. I have “Midnight Mass” and I will do the same for “The Fall of the House of Usher.” The bootleg quality is excellent, by the way. I would be railing against bootlegs under any other circumstances, but for titles that are simply not available, and will never be available on physical media, I am so glad that they exist.

 

GC: Streaming is slippery. And unpredictable.

MF: When you buy a movie on iTunes, you don’t really own it. There is an illusion of ownership. The idea that at any time a title can be removed from circulation – and we are seeing it happen now to first-run stuff – is awful. It is like titles are being erased. Without physical media, they are just gone. Unfortunately, I believe that is only going to get worse.

I am in a position to speak to many positive and negative things that streaming has done for the business and for storytellers. And I have benefitted from Netflix more than anyone that I am aware of, creatively speaking. But I will always be a little furious that “Midnight Mass” will not be available on Blu-ray. There is no reason it shouldn’t be.

 

GC: I understand you did your best to convince Netflix to release Blu-rays.

MF: Like Andy Dufresne’s letter writing in “The Shawshank Redemption,” I reached out regularly to Netflix. For the longest time, they ignored me. Finally, we had a conversation and it looked for a second like they might explore it. Once it became clear that I was moving to Amazon, though, that possibility abruptly died.

I will continue to try. I have one more bite of the Netflix apple with “The Fall of the House of Usher.” I am going to start talking to the press about physical media a lot more, too. It is that important to me.

Having learned a lesson, I am now trying to put agreements in place in my deals. I won’t direct unless there is a guarantee for some kind of archival physical release. We’ll see how that goes.

 

GC: You have also recorded unofficial audio commentaries.

MF: Yes, sometimes during podcasts. I love doing that. I am also grateful that the “Haunting” series was a Paramount co-production, because they maintained the home video rights. That’s why “Hill House” and “Bly” are available on Blu-ray. Although they just wanted to do DVD! I had to arm wrestle them into high definition.

 

GC: I like the way that you pay homage to favorite films and filmmakers in your work.

MF: I prefer to call it quoting, but we are ripping off all sorts of stuff. Sometimes in the weirdest and unlikeliest places. For example, I tried to recreate the first “Rear Window” kiss between Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly when I was making “Ouija: Origin of Evil.” Right down to the slightly slower speed.

Cinema is a language and the love of cinema is a language. You get to speak that language with your collaborators. I can turn to my DP, who loves movies as much as I do, and instead of offering a technical description, I can say, “Do you remember in ‘Lone Star’ when they do that wonderful hand-off to the flashback with the lighting change?” We use the movies as our primary vocabulary.

I was jamming “Casablanca” into “Doctor Sleep.” I thought, “When am I going to be at Warner again? Let’s do it!” Some of this stuff is homage, but some of it is subconscious. I may look at it and realize, “I thought I was being clever, but actually, I know exactly where I’ve seen that before.“ When you love movies, you celebrate them on both sides of the camera.

 

GC: “Doctor Sleep” honors both Kubrick and King without any disservice to the other.

MF: That was the goal. I am grateful that is how the movie is perceived by as many people as it is. It is a love letter to both of them, but I have also described it as a parent trap. Trying to get mom and dad to stop fighting.

That movie was so much fun because I got to interrogate the aesthetic choices of Stanley Kubrick in real time, on his sets. I got to see where he put the camera and which lenses he chose. And if I had a question, I could try it over here. And I could try it over there. “Oh, so that’s the amazing thing about this spot! It creates a symmetry that is impossible anywhere else.”

Kubrick knew it and I only found it because I had all his dance moves written down. It was like going to film school again, but in the most surreal way, by walking through a movie you love and interacting with it. Some of the time we were recreating something and other times we were going off on our own.

It was a remarkable challenge and so much fun. We were grinning all day. And frequently saying, “How cool is it that we get to do this?” You’re standing in the shadow of giants. That can be intimidating and you can even feel like you don’t deserve to be there. But they let us do it, so the joke’s on them!

 

GC: In episodic storytelling, are you making ten feature films or is it one really long movie?

MF: That’s a great question. I asked myself that question and went back and forth. I view them as multi-act movies. The limited series is my favorite format, because you get to do so much with characterization. And the writing challenges are unique. But I view “Hill House” and “Midnight Mass” as long films.

Ongoing series are different. I only tried that once and it is much harder to have arcs that conclude while always making things seem like they are just beginning. It is a weird thing to do. My shot at an ongoing series didn’t work the way the limited series worked.  A lot of that was studio interference. “Midnight Club” got beat up extra hard because we got away with so much on “Midnight Mass.” There were a lot of things about that show I knew were problematic – things that Netflix insisted on. And I said as much. But I was overruled.

The pressures are different when you are trying to do something that is ongoing. Things are more hypothetical. In a limited series, you have a beginning-to-end vision and they defer a lot more. With an ongoing series, everything is up for discussion and conversation. Any aspect can change at any time. You can end up reacting to the whims of one or two people. “What if we’re going in the wrong direction?”

From a finished product perspective, the limited series has become my favorite way to tell a story. They are exhausting to make, though. I would prefer to make a theatrical movie because it doesn’t take over your life for nearly as long. My next goal is to get back to movie theaters. I’ve been away since “Doctor Sleep” and I want to get back.

 

GC: What attracts you to horror?

MF: I think it is interesting that horror is one of the genres that has a strong anti-audience. That group of viewers who are just not interested. It is rare to hear someone say they won’t watch dramas or musicals. Horror can be uncomfortable. Horror promises an emotional experience that isn’t always pleasant.

I think horror is a vital genre. I make horror because when I was a kid, I was terrified of everything. I couldn’t watch scary movies. I was prone to nightmares. I had social anxiety. I was scared of my own shadow. I was a frightened kid.

But what I learned as I began to look into horror movies and horror fiction, when I got through a scary book or chapter or movie, I was that much braver at the end. Braver in tiny increments. I realized that the acquisition of that bravery and that courage was like any exercise you do, any muscle you flex. It spilled over into my real world. It made me better able to cope with stress and anxiety.

As a genre, horror is critically important for us. One of the first emotions we feel as humans is fear. We are scared of the dark. And the genre exists to help us to defeat that fear. And we get to do it in a controlled environment. While we are there, it takes all these things that are the hardest and scariest to look at and creates a safe space to confront the fear inside ourselves.

 

GC: Horror can be life-affirming.

MF: In my own work, I want there to be empathy and humanism and hope and love and forgiveness in equal measure to the darkness that’s on display. Not all horror movies are like that and I understand that people can be put off. But I encourage them not to dismiss the entire genre.

I only tell the stories I tell because I grew up reading Stephen King. And he has said that there is no horror without love. I think he understands the balance. So that is something I strive to do in everything I make. I don’t think of them as movies or shows about ghosts or vampires or demons, I think of them as stories about people. And ultimately, stories that have something beautiful to say about people. That’s why I love what I do and am never leaving the horror genre.

You hear people say that horror is just a springboard to launch into “real” movies, but I take umbrage at that. I am so lucky to work in the genre. I think it is one of the most important ones that exists. Fans understand it and that’s why they are so passionate. Horror fans are some of the kindest people I have ever met. I’m honored to be in their company.

Collecting Movies With Emily Sheskin

FFF23 Emily Sheskin Portrait

Interview by Greg Carlson

New York City-based director Emily Sheskin’s work has been featured in “The New York Times,” “The Atlantic,” and “National Geographic,” among others. In 2017, Vimeo named Sheskin one of “ten groundbreaking women in film to watch.” Previous commercial clients include Disney, Microsoft, and Pokemon.

The director’s cut of her NYT Op-Doc featuring boxer Jesselyn Silva was a Vimeo Staff Pick that played in numerous film festivals, including the Fargo Film Festival. A few weeks ago, the feature-length version of Silva’s story, “JessZilla,” premiered at the Big Sky Film Festival in Missoula, Montana.

“JessZilla” is the opening night movie of the 2023 Fargo Film Festival, screening on Tuesday, March 21 at 7 p.m. at the Fargo Theatre. Director Sheskin and producer Ben Kainz will answer audience questions and share conversation following the film.

 

Greg Carlson: How was the “JessZilla” world premiere at Big Sky?

Emily Sheskin: It was great. A lot of fun. But by the end, my body said, “No more! Shut it down!”

 

GC: I love Missoula and I love that festival.

ES: I had only been to Glacier, so it was great to visit another Montana spot. It was cold, though. Negative twenty at one point, which I didn’t love. Other than the temperature, pretty awesome. We showed the movie to a class of 16-year-olds, and that was one of the highlights of the trip.

 

GC: Where did you grow up?

ES: I grew up in Bethel, Connecticut. When you live in New York City, people identify Connecticut as a place where wealthy people reside, but my town was pretty blue collar. My parents were teachers. My mom taught art to elementary school kids and my dad was a professor of abnormal psychology. He wrote a statistics book, but he was also an artist who painted.

 

GC: Did the family interest in art take hold of you at an early age?

ES: Definitely. I thought that going on vacation meant visiting art galleries. And maybe getting ice cream. My dad also writes, so storytelling was something that we did together. There was a program called Child’s Play that came to my school when I was in the second grade. They were improv performers who would select a story written by one of the kids and act it out.

My friend Adam and I entered a story about a Tyrannosaurus rex whose sister signs him up for a cooking contest. The T-Rex is sad, though, because he doesn’t know how to cook. Fortunately, he meets a singing fish who gives him a great recipe. The T-Rex ends up winning the cooking contest and the grand prize is a Brontosaurus. The climax is the T-Rex ripping the Brontosaurus to shreds.

 

GC: Wow.

ES: Our story won! And Adam and I thought, “This is going to be so sweet! Do you think they are going to use fake blood for the ending?” But the improv actors re-wrote our ending to the T-Rex being told, “You’ve won a new best friend!” Adam and I were outraged.

It was the moment I became disillusioned. I realized that if you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself.

 

GC: How does the transition to telling stories on film/video happen?

ES: I begged for a video camera in high school. I came to it kind of late compared to some. I was 16 years old and it was a Mini-DV camcorder. My school had a very basic, bare-bones AV club, but I was lucky it existed.

 

GC: What did you make?

ES: I got obsessed with animation, but I wasn’t the best artist. I think the combination of being into theater and having grown up with storytelling naturally led to film. I got my friends to act in the scripts I wrote. I originally went to NYU for theater but quickly switched to film and TV.

 

GC: What was the most valuable thing you learned at NYU?

ES: You don’t need to go to film school to be successful, but what film school gave me was an incredibly supportive and inspiring network. If you are surrounded by like-minded people who are motivated and interesting and funny and smart, then you are on the right path. The friends I met at school turned out to be the greatest asset I could have received. And those relationships extended beyond film school.

 

GC: When you were at NYU, what did you imagine things were going to look like out of school?

ES: Post-graduation, I was realistic. I am not from a rich family. Some of my classmates were Los Angeles-connected. Royalty types. But that was not me. So I was very clear about asking myself how I would make a living. I landed at College Sports Television, which is now CBS College Sports. I was a paid intern and that’s how I got my first job as a motion graphics artist, which is nothing like what I thought I would be doing.

But the people were really generous. They taught me how to use After Effects and Photoshop. So I thought I might end up being an editor to pay the bills. An editor who makes movies on the side. I basically did that for ten years. Editing in the commercial space. It was always short form. I liked being hired for a couple weeks and then moving on to something else. That worked for me. It allowed me to split my time between the work I did for others and the work I did for myself.

 

GC: What happened next?

ES: I promised myself I wouldn’t take another staff job but I met some people at a company that no longer exists. They were very cool. I told them that the only way I would take the edit job was if they would give me the opportunity to direct. They did not promise anything but they ended up making good. From there, I built a small commercial reel and when the New York Times Op-Doc came out, people could see that I had commercial experience that made me more employable.

 

GC: I see an intersection between your commercial work and your artistic sensibility. Like the Galaxy’s Edge stuff.

ES: That was so much fun. Disney has been a great client. When you grow up loving Disney IP, the fit is an easy one. I pitched an idea about Star Wars superfans going to see Batuu for the first time. I rewatched all the Star Wars movies. I looked at the kinds of framing that Lucas used in the original. And then I thought about the way that J.J. Abrams rebooted it.

I wanted to use the cinematic language of Star Wars in my work. Like a hybrid of the Star Wars language that we already know combined with documentary storytelling. That park is so awesome. Anywhere you pointed a camera made a composition that looked like you were on a movie set.

Usually in documentary I am fighting with the location to get the perfect shot. This was, “Looks great! Oh, and this looks perfect, too! And this angle also looks amazing!”

 

GC: You’re part of the Star Wars filmmaking universe!

ES: It was a lot of fun. You try to find the right style of communication demanded by the subject. For “JessZilla,” I had to think about the language of boxing movies. So I could honor it and play with it and disrupt it. I also wanted to interject Jess as a kid, a girl – and respect her femininity – while still keeping some of the boxing stuff that people are familiar with.

 

GC: I recently watched “Creed III.” I loved how Michael B. Jordan used his longtime passion for anime to construct some of the ring choreography, even down to specific punches.

ES: Awesome. I am so excited to see the new one and what Jordan does. I also think Ryan Coogler is an incredible director. He did such a fantastic job with the first “Creed.” “Black Panther” is so good. He just builds the best sandcastles in the sandbox.

 

GC: What is the signature Emily Sheskin touch you like to use in your moviemaking?

ES: When I redid my website, I watched some older work and realized that I am drawn to people who stay optimistic in very difficult situations. People who see the good in struggle. As a director, my strength is in the conversational interview. When you watch something I made, you can see that the people are comfortable and want to be there.

 

GC: Concern for the comfort of on-camera subjects reminds me of my friend Mike Scholtz.

ES: I love Mike! I just talked to him.

 

GC: I know you were into theater as a kid, but were you also into movies?

ES: Absolutely. I watched all kinds of stuff, including art movies. Bethel Cinema was the art house in our town. I remember seeing Almodovar’s “Talk to Her” when I was 17 and thinking, “Oh, shit. This is what a movie can be.” I got a real introduction to cinema there.

When I was in high school, “American Beauty” was one of my favorites. I won’t rewatch it because I know it probably won’t hold up to the power of my memory. My adult self could not possibly like it as much as my teenage self. When I saw the scene with the rose petals, I was compelled to look up the cinematographer. I then tracked down every movie that Conrad Hall photographed so I could study his path to greatness.

 

GC: “In Cold Blood.” “Cool Hand Luke.” “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” Brilliant. Did you keep a collection of movies?

ES: I did. And those movies had so much to do with my taste at the time. Growing up as a young woman in the 90s, it was rare for me to recognize myself on the screen. At that time, there was nowhere near the inclusiveness and representation that we have today. And we still have such a long way to go.

So when I saw movies like “Clueless” and “Big” and other movies directed by women, I naturally gravitated to those stories. But I had other favorites, too. “Ladybugs” is still hilarious even if it does not entirely hold up. I love “Heart and Souls” with Robert Downey Jr. It played on TBS all the time. So I went for ridiculous comedies and schmaltzy romances that weren’t embraced by critics.

 

GC: How did the films you watched when you were growing up inform the way you approach moviemaking?

ES: I think movies should be entertaining. And my philosophy is that movies should be for everybody. I am less inclined to like movies made only for people who understand movies. For example, I tried to model “JessZilla” after the Pixar approach. One of my screenwriting professors cited “Finding Nemo” as a perfect script. Parents relate to Albert Brooks and kids relate to Nemo. Two segments of the audience are captivated. One movie. Two perspectives.

When we were making “JessZilla,” I thought about “Finding Nemo.” Parents ask questions about Pedro, or through a parental lens. But kids who see it want to know more about Jess.

 

GC: The amount of time you have spent with Pedro and Jess reminds me of Linklater’s “Boyhood” or Kubrick’s idea to shoot over many years with the same kid. The revelation of the diagnosis, which you decided to include in the trailer, is devastating.

ES: I will say that we obviously never expected something like that to happen. For Jess and for everyone, it was an absolute nightmare. Pedro was a wreck. I was a wreck. Jess received the diagnosis and soon after that I talked to Pedro about the best way to be supportive. For the grown-ups, more filming was not on the agenda. Jess was the one who wanted to continue shooting.

Pedro wanted her to have a sense of normalcy, especially in the days following the diagnosis. He asked me how I felt and I said that we needed to talk to Jess. Grown-ups might make decisions, but Jess was in control. Her voice needed to be heard and respected. For her to say that she wanted to tell that part of the story … I thought, “OK, we are not making the film that I thought I was going to make.”

 

GC: How did the impact of that change alter your approach to the movie?

ES: We are in a time where we think a lot about ethics in documentary filmmaking. Whose story is it? Who is telling the story? Most directors have good intentions. I am aware that I am not a member of the community to which Jess and Pedro belong. But I felt kinship with Jess because I saw a girl who wanted to make it in a male-dominated sphere.

There is a moment in the film where Jess cries because she feels like she is letting down her great-grandfather. It was a solo interview but Pedro comes into the frame and hugs her and asks me whether it is alright for him to sit with Jess in the shot. He puts his arm around her, looks at me, and says, “Ask your question.”

 

GC: I know exactly the moment.

ES: It is powerful to me because it illustrates that I am in charge but I am not really in charge. They are in charge. It was like they were communicating: “This is how we want to do it. I’m going to be here with her.” I hope that those moments reveal the kind of relationship that I have with this family and how important the ethics of telling a story like this were to me.

There is another moment where I ask Jess – after a loss – if she plans to give up. She says, “That’s a crazy question, Emily!” Kind of laughs at me. But then she composes herself and goes into interview mode and says, “I am not going to give up. I would like some redemption.” Those glimpses behind the curtain give an understanding of this relationship that grew and changed over the years.

 

GC: The love and respect.

ES: That has been the goal.

 

Creed III

HPR Creed III 3 (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

In “Creed III,” the latest installment of the “Rocky” spinoff series, Michael B. Jordan makes his directorial debut with a sturdy piece of franchise storytelling. Jordan also returns to the ring as the title character, his chiseled frame and obligatory training montage (in this one, Adonis tows a small airplane, another other feats) suggesting the kind of superpowers displayed in the Marvel Cinematic Universe – to which Jordan, Tessa Thompson, Jonathan Majors, and Sylvester Stallone also belong. Stallone’s Rocky Balboa, who featured so prominently in the first two “Creed” chapters, does not show up this time. His spirit is respectfully acknowledged, however, and Stallone’s name appears in the credits as a producer.

Following “Creed II,” both Jordan and Stallone responded favorably to the suggestion that pro heavyweight Deontay Wilder could play the son of Mr. T’s James “Clubber” Lang, but the screenplay, credited to Zach Baylin and Keenan Coogler, takes advantage of Stallone’s absence by moving the action to Los Angeles and imagining an altogether different way of exploring how Adonis can be haunted by ghosts from his past. Instead of another go at the child of one of Rocky’s adversaries (Florian Munteanu is briefly back as Ivan Drago’s son), “Creed III” introduces Majors as Damian “Diamond Dame” Anderson, a childhood friend of Adonis paroled after 18 years behind bars.

The addition of Majors to the saga is a masterstroke. The actor seizes another opportunity to demonstrate a deep wellspring of emotional subtleties that both transcend the scripted dialogue and promise greater things to come. Like Jordan, the physical transformation of Majors is a sight to behold, nothing short of a spectacle that invites our gaze. On the heels of his struggling bodybuilder Killian Maddox in “Magazine Dreams” and his menacing future scientist Kang the Conqueror in “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania,” Majors continues his ascendancy as a formidable screen presence.

The increasingly sophisticated fight choreography, as rendered via the bloody ballet between Majors and Jordan, is the bread and butter of the genre. As both performer and director, Jordan has a genuine knack for the evolution of the sport’s portrayal on the big screen. The hardcore anime fan has pointed out the deep-cut influence of “Naruto: Shippuden” on both a specific punch and on the classic trope of friends-turned-rivals. The way in which Donny sees Dame as an alternate self, a kind of coin-flip doppelganger, generates more than enough heat to go the championship distance.

Tessa Thompson is every bit as talented as her costars, though her Bianca Taylor takes a backseat to the personal and professional conflicts keeping Adonis up at night. In an interview with Brian Davids for “The Hollywood Reporter,” Thompson charitably, even dutifully, excuses the underutilization of her character while acknowledging that “these movies have been lensed by men and written by men.” Bianca’s story includes a handful of scenes that allude to the bittersweet trajectory of her recording and producing career, but I longed for something more.

Whether it is possible for a “Rocky” or “Creed” movie to carve out equal space for a woman in the hypermasculine realm of professional pugilism remains to be seen, no matter the talent of Talia Shire and Tessa Thompson, or, for that matter, Phylicia Rashad and Mila Davis-Kent. The latter plays Amara Creed, a kid whose own interest in boxing hints at future family drama. Jordan has already confirmed plans for another sequel.

Cocaine Bear

HPR Cocaine Bear (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Scored with Melle Mel’s thumping, cautionary 1983 anthem “White Lines (Don’t Don’t Do It),” the red band trailer for “Cocaine Bear” promises a lot more fun, a lot more profanity, a lot more outrageousness, and a lot more laughs than director Elizabeth Banks delivers in the film itself. All the marketing was on point. The stark and powdery poster directs us to “Get in Line.” The awesome title, along with the suggestion that the movie is loosely “inspired by true events”  – the life and death of an American black bear sometimes called “Pablo Escobear,” currently on taxidermied display at the Kentucky for Kentucky Fun Mall in Lexington – will pique enough curiosity for a strong box office take on opening weekend. Hard to say whether word of mouth will sustain or stall the film, which features one of Ray Liotta’s last screen performances.

While the historical Cocaine Bear never killed anyone before suffering a fatal overdose in 1985, the movie imagines a broad mashup of the natural threat and slasher genres. Dim-witted victims repeatedly, and I mean repeatedly, stumble into the path of the jacked-up omnivore. Some survive while others are dispatched by tooth and claw. Horror hounds will vibe with several of the movie’s imaginative kills, which include nasty head wounds, ropes of spilled intestines, scattered limbs, and, in what could be the movie’s highlight, a sustained ambulance-stretcher road rash. But despite the variety of practical effects that routinely merit enthusiastic “Fangoria” profiles, “Cocaine Bear” lumbers along in lazy circles.

Banks is a genuine comic talent with years of industry experience. As a performer, she consistently delivers with sharp timing. But little if any of that on-camera charisma translates to “Cocaine Bear,” which asks viewers to accept the berserk singularity of an ursus with an insatiable lust for snout candy. Rotating among the stories of a sizable ensemble (gotta have enough disposable prey), the movie never builds momentum or raises the stakes. When the climax finally arrives, on the side of a ledge that calls to mind the much funnier bear encounter in Charles Chaplin’s “The Gold Rush,” we’re ready to crash as hard as the title critter.

Jimmy Warden’s screenplay doesn’t do Banks any favors. Unquestionably, there was plenty of talent on set, but none of the characters as written connect with one another beyond the most superficial and most tenuous links, even when they are in danger of losing their lives to a bear out of its mind on blow. Even high-school students are taught that the best characters operate as highly-motivated agents in relentless pursuit of a goal. And one imagines that not being eviscerated would offer plenty of motivation. But Keri Russell’s nurse, seeking to reunite with her truant daughter, is strangely calm and level-headed for a mama without her cub.

The gaps between gags made me long for a Buster Keaton two-reeler and the poorly-paced hide-and-seek conjured thoughts of  “Jaws,” which wrote the book on how it’s done. Heck, I’d take most of the installments of “Friday the 13th.” I wanted to love “Cocaine Bear.” I was ready to love “Cocaine Bear.” Alas, the movie is a brick.

Smoke Sauna Sisterhood

HPR Smoke Sauna Sisterhood (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

In January, Anna Hints brought “Smoke Sauna Sisterhood” to the 2023 Sundance Film Festival for the movie’s world premiere. It was the first time Sundance programmed a documentary feature made by a filmmaker from Estonia. By the end of the event, Hints would receive a well-deserved directing award in the festival’s World Cinema Documentary category. Viewers are invited inside the dark and intimate confines of the title location, a quiet and humble cabin tucked between water and trees in the south of the country. From there, the director communicates an astonishing outpouring of vulnerable self-disclosure as the subjects chant and laugh and cry and cleanse, sharing with each other – and the audience – immediately recognizable challenges, sorrows, and triumphs.

Hints does elect to show faces from time to time, but perfects a technique in which the women speak simultaneously as individuals and as a unified voice. The various rituals associated with the sauna, including the use of leaves and plants as floggers to stimulate circulation, the rubbing of salt on the skin, and the multiple hot/cold cycles of quick dips in the water – including through holes cut in the ice during wintertime – familiarize the audience with a practice that the credits reveal is recognized on UNESCO’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. No history, context, or backstory gets in the way of the director’s position as a nearly invisible observer. We go right to the sauna. By the end of the film, it has been an honor to spend time in this company.

Despite the intensity of several stories, “Smoke Sauna Sisterhood” is unhurried. The movie fully commits to the experience of the sauna and the filmmakers do a superb job conveying a strong sense of being in that space. Hints began work on the project eight years ago and the film’s scenes unfold over the course of roughly nine months of time. There is certainly a careful consideration of rhythm and pace and of the faster and slower passages that Hints arranges with thoughtfulness and precision.

As the name of the movie indicates, Hints focuses on the camaraderie of women, but all can appreciate the fellowship. Like so many of the best movies, “Smoke Sauna Sisterhood” captures the universal in the specific. We hear stories about relationships that come apart and come together. We recognize the complexities of parent-child bonds. We bear witness to absolutely harrowing accounts of sexual assault and rape. Hints often aligns the viewer with the film’s subjects by holding on the faces of those in reaction shots as opposed to close-ups of the storytellers. This is a film that recognizes the importance of listening.

At the post-premiere Q & A, director of photography Ants Tammik and Hints spoke briefly about the physical challenges of capturing the desired imagery, a gorgeously-lit, often abstract cascade of fast-falloff chiaroscuro that sees the entire range of body shapes and types with the eyes of a master painter. Tammik, who lost at least one expensive lens to the harsh conditions, conveys the almost tactile representation of heat as well as any cinematographer since Ernest Dickerson on “Do the Right Thing.” During the same discussion, Hints admitted to blacking out from the high temperature in the sauna. The sacrifices were worth it.

Magazine Dreams

SD23 Magazine Dreams

Movie review by Greg Carlson

One of the most buzzed-about movies at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival was “Magazine Dreams,” the sophomore feature from writer-director Elijah Bynum. The film, starring Jonathan Majors as a rage-prone bodybuilder, is not a home run, but it is a significant improvement over the filmmaker’s 2017 debut “Hot Summer Nights,” a disappointing neo-noir thriller. “Magazine Dreams” owes a heavy debt to “Taxi Driver,” but Bynum flips the paranoia and racism of the white Travis Bickle to ponder the experiences of Black Americans under threat for merely existing. Too grim to signal the likelihood of mainstream box office success, “Magazine Dreams” will draw attention for the muscular (in all senses of the word) performance of the increasingly vital Majors.

Not unlike some of the remarkable physical transformations made by Robert De Niro in the pursuit of total character immersion, Jonathan Majors spent hours following a brutal training regimen to add a key credit to his already impressive filmography. The ominously-named Killian Maddox certainly seems like a “mad killer,” despite caring for his aging grandfather William (Harrison Page) and seeing a counselor (Harriet Sansom Harris). Bynum foreshadows tragedy, laying out clues like a breadcrumb trail, but it is Majors who molds Maddox into a formidable monster, alternating between pathetic vulnerability and terrifying violence.

Whether consciously or not (and it is difficult to imagine not), Bynum borrows liberally from Paul Schrader’s legendary “Taxi Driver” screenplay, and a number of scenes in “Magazine Dreams” mirror Bickle’s grim descent toward homicidal action. In one, Killian finds the courage to ask grocery store coworker Jessie (Haley Bennett) out for dinner. He may not order black coffee and apple pie with a slice of melted yellow cheese, but Jessie’s realization that her date is not entirely safe comes just as quickly as Betsy’s cut-off of Travis. Taylour Paige, as a sex worker identified in the credits as Pink Coat, doesn’t completely align with Jodie Foster’s Iris, but her big scene is one of the film’s most memorable.

Bynum also doesn’t go so far to include a smooth-talking Easy Andy, but “Magazine Dreams” is no less unsettling when Maddox puts together a small arsenal that includes the all-too-familiar type of assault-style rifle used in so many horrific mass shootings. Instead of Bickle-style diary voiceovers, the filmmaker substitutes Killian’s Google searches – which pose queries like how to be remembered and how to get people to like you. The results in both movies are similar. The deeper we follow the protagonist’s downward spiral, the more we dread the inevitable.

“Magazine Dreams” succumbs to some repetitiveness, but I sincerely appreciated Bynum’s final-act choices, which keep viewers on high alert with more than one welcome surprise. What transpires before the tense climax poses more questions than answers, and not all of the director’s intentions are clear. I’m still not sure what to make of the resolution to the subplot tracing Killian’s hero-worship of bodybuilding idol Brad Vanderhorn (Mike O’Hearn), which teeters on a wobbly tightrope between homoeroticism and homophobia. Other scenes, like the one in which Killian has an ugly altercation with a past tormentor at a diner, strike with the brilliance of lightning.

Kim’s Video

HPR Kim's Video (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

The unbelievable fate of one of the world’s largest collections of physical movie media is the subject of “Kim’s Video,” a fizzy and entertaining nonfiction cocktail mixing essay-like asides on the power of cinephilia with an oddball odyssey involving the Italian Mafia. Directed by David Redmon and Ashley Sabin, the feature premiered as part of the 2023 Sundance Film Festival. In some ways, the timing is always right for a consideration of disc and tape as we continue to stumble through an often hellish and always fractured streaming landscape where access to titles can vanish without warning. “Kim’s Video” reminds viewers that there was something very special about browsing the shelves of shops both large and small.

Given the unpredictable plot twists and the movie’s blend of narrative approaches that bounce from personal diary to travelogue-infused investigation to meta-heist caper, it is not surprising that a number of early reviews have criticized the filmmakers for failing to make a straight documentary about dry cleaner/video rental magnate Yongman Kim and his legendary New York City outlets. Many viewers, myself included, at first imagined a more traditional biography/history of Kim and Kim’s Video in the vein of Puloma Basu and Robert Hatch-Miller’s “Other Music.” But once it became apparent that the massive library of VHS and DVD landed, mostly intact, in the small Italian town of Salemi, I was ready to get on board with Redmon and Sabin.

In 2012, a few years after Kim’s video business was shuttered, Karina Longworth wrote an excellent feature for “The Village Voice” detailing her own visit to Italy in search of the collection. Now, a decade later, the contours of Longworth’s report mirror a great deal of the Salemi-set sections of “Kim’s Video.” The idea that Kim’s offer to give away his entire inventory in exchange for an assurance that existing members (who numbered in the tens of thousands) would be able to access the collection is wild enough, but the reality – which Redmon and Sabin consider with the same incredulity as their viewers – turns the film into a rallying cry to liberate the neglected treasure from its moldering prison.

The filmmakers know that Yongman Kim, the man, is a vivid subject, even though he will only pop in and out of the unfolding drama. They tease his appearance, using comments from a variety of former employees to heighten the mystery with quirky anecdotes and descriptions of Kim’s often intimidating intensity. Whenever Kim shows up, the movie sparks with energy unmatched by scenes in which relentless narrator Redmon is given the runaround by cartoonishly hapless Italian bureaucrats as he pokes around overseas. The latter category provides comic relief, which plays in contrast to clips from movies (like “Blue Velvet” and “La Dolce Vita”) that offer context for our host’s movie-obsessed single-mindedness.

For lovers of the nostalgia associated with the days when VHS was king, “Kim’s Video” joins “Rewind This!” “Adjust Your Tracking,” “Recorder: The Marion Stokes Project,” and several other movies that explore different aspects of rental, collecting, and/or taping culture. Certainly, a different film could have presented a deeper dive into something like the magic of a film education provided by a place like Kim’s, but the absurd sight of a robbery crew hidden behind masks of Hitchcock, Varda, Godard, and other auteurs should put a smile on the face of every clerk, projectionist, ticket-taker, and counter-jockey who dreamed of making a movie.

Soft & Quiet

HPR Soft and Quiet 2 (2022)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Beth de Araújo’s stunning “Soft & Quiet” plays out in real time, moving swiftly from its carefully calculated opening section to pick up speed as it rockets from one deeply unsettling sequence to the next. It is as terrifying as any film of 2022, a gripping thriller exposing grotesque anger and the jaw-dropping gears of the persecution complex embraced by the far-right. The first-time feature filmmaker wrote the screenplay after being inspired by the May 2020 confrontation between bird-watcher Christian Cooper and dog-walker Amy Cooper in New York City’s Central Park. The racially-charged interaction, like the murder of George Floyd that occurred on the very same day, was partially captured on video and posted online.

De Araújo introduces elementary school teacher Emily (Stefanie Estes) crying over a pregnancy test in a bathroom stall after nearly everyone else in the building has gone home for the day. The moment is shrewd and deceptive; the director misleads viewers by setting up the conditions for sympathetic identification. We’re inclined to like this person, or at least feel some pity for her. But Emily’s distress is followed by a strange interaction in which blame for a custodian’s freshly mopped and potentially slippery floor is wrapped in racist intimations. Something is not right, even if we’re not quite sure where all this is all going.

The mystery deepens as Emily walks along a wooded path, encountering another woman who turns out to be headed to the same destination. They enter a church meeting room populated by several others. Small talk and pleasantries give way to the sinister agenda as a growing list of ideas is recorded on a white board. It’s the inaugural gathering of the Daughters of Aryan Unity. Like Jeremy Saulnier’s excellent “Green Room,” the depiction of neo-Nazi adherents as essentially common, everyday folks you might encounter at the liquor store or a punk rock show sends a chill down the spine. Pointed hoods and burning crosses are not necessary to inspire terror – these monsters are neighbors and co-workers.

The combination of real time chronology with the nauseating escalation toward violence makes “Soft & Quiet” as powerful as it is difficult to watch. Although the final version of the movie is not presented as one unbroken take, de Araújo rehearsed and choreographed with her ensemble as if they were performing a piece of live theatre. Four consecutive shooting days were completed. And while the majority of what we see comes from the last day, small bits and pieces from the second and third attempts were incorporated in the cut.

Once “Soft & Quiet” leads the audience past the point of no return during a tour de force sequence set at an otherwise peaceful lake cabin, de Araújo enters the dark and suffocating territory inhabited by the likes of Haneke’s “Funny Games,” Noé’s “Irréversible,” and Christian Tafdrup’s “Speak No Evil.” The latter, another 2022 release, matches the brutality of “Soft & Quiet” but I think de Araújo has made the superior film. Her movie is brimming with ideas while resolutely avoiding the assumption of moral high ground. There are no sermons, only actions.

 

Corsage

HPR Corsage 2 (2022)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Marie Kreutzer’s “Corsage” reinterprets the historical biography of Empress Elisabeth of Austria, the Bavarian royal assassinated in 1898. Popularly known as Sisi or Sissi, she married Emperor Franz Joseph I when she was 16 and has attracted ongoing attention in multiple theater, film and television productions over the years, including fiction and nonfiction, animation, operetta, and ballet. This past September, Netflix released the six-episode series “The Empress.” Ernst Marischka’s 1950s movie trilogy helped launch Romy Schneider to stardom and has been a longtime Christmas viewing staple regularly broadcast on German and Austrian television. Ava Gardner tried on her jewels in “Mayerling.” In Kreutzer’s movie, Vicky Krieps portrays the curious subject.

Unafraid to court controversy, Kreutzer stages a radical alternative to the recorded events surrounding Elisabeth’s life and death. Like any number of the filmmaker’s other choices, the movie’s climax suggests a cocky insouciance regarding careful fidelity to the “real.” This disregard for the traditional rules of the biopic will enrage some historians but delight fans of material like Sofia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette” and Pablo Larrain’s “Spencer.” Despite the overt parallels, Kreutzer has bristled at the frequent comparisons to the former, insisting that she does not like Coppola’s film.

The anachronistic placement of a harp-accompanied performance of “As Tears Go By” and other diegetic music picks – not to mention additional modern touches – align as closely to “Marie Antoinette” as the themes of a woman constrained by the regulations of the patriarchy. The spheres over which Elisabeth exercised any substantive control paled next to the formal obligations and expectations of her station. Like Diana, Kreutzer’s heroine suffers the whims of a faithless spouse. In one great scene, Elisabeth tracks down the object of her husband’s extramarital attention to encourage an affair.

Krieps, who brought the idea of an Elisabeth movie to an initially skeptical Kreutzer, makes for a compelling rebel. Whether holding her breath under water, cavorting for the motion picture camera of Louis Le Prince, sparring with her grown son or her young daughter, squeezing into a tightly-laced corset, or limiting her dinner to a slice or two of orange, the actor brings her character to vivid and vital life. Krieps fires up her sophisticated interpretation with all kinds of quirky tics and mannerisms that increase our curiosity. When she bursts out laughing at socially inappropriate moments, we sense that she’s struck by the incomprehensible madness of her circumstances.

As Kreutzer thumbs her nose, or, more accurately, gives the finger to the history books, it becomes evident that the director’s preoccupation with Elisabeth “coming apart” at the age of 40 is the key component of “Corsage” that transcends time to become a commentary on any era. Frustrations and anxieties threaten to erupt each time Elisabeth is silenced by her perpetually imperious husband. Kreutzer and Krieps leave the viewer to guess at the protagonist’s motivation for raging against her confinement by fencing, horseback riding, and flirting with the possibility of adulterous liaisons of her own. Elisabeth could be driven by forces both internal and external. Either way, she will faint and she will feint.