Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.

HPR Are You There God (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Although not quite as good as feature directorial debut “The Edge of Seventeen,” Kelly Fremon Craig’s adaptation of Judy Blume’s classic 1970 novel makes for an admirable and satisfying big screen companion piece. Veteran kid actor Abby Ryder Fortson leads an ensemble that includes Rachel McAdams, Kathy Bates, and Benny Safdie as the core members of the Simon family. While Blume’s frank address of topics including menstruation and the physical changes accompanying puberty continue to drive critical discussion of the story, Margaret’s struggle to understand the liminal place between her mother’s Christianity and her father’s Judaism is equally important.

Fremon Craig also wrote the screenplay, which preserves some of Blume’s dialogue verbatim while updating and expanding other aspects of the beloved novel. The movie uses the book’s period setting, but aside from some clothing choices and several vintage needle-drops – including “Son of a Preacher Man,” “Jump in the Line,” “These Eyes,” “Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours),” and the reliable “Spirit in the Sky” – the overall mise en scene reads as wholly contemporary. The resulting timelessness invites several generations of readers to easily project themselves into the action.

The most devoted Blume fans should appreciate Fremon Craig’s spiritual fealty to the source material, even if some details are missing and other dimensions are altered. The after-school club of girls Margaret joins is not identified as the Pre-Teen Sensations, but the famous bust-building exercise and accompanying chant (which Blume, who very briefly appears in an unrelated, non-speaking cameo, demonstrated when it was being rehearsed “incorrectly” on set) occupies its rightful place. One of the most significant alterations is the welcome expansion of business and agency for Margaret’s mom Barbara, whose own adjustments to suburban life and desire to fit in with peers parallel some of her daughter’s worries.

Despite the film’s PG-13 rating, “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” has an overwhelmingly wholesome glow. That’s not to say Fremon Craig downplays the many ways in which girls on the cusp of adolescence can wield cruelty as a defense against confusion and uncertainty. In one of the best scenes in the novel, the physically mature Laura Danker confronts Margaret, asking, “Do you think it’s any fun to be the biggest kid in the class?” In the movie, Fremon Craig makes what I think is a good choice to reimagine the end of Danker’s small arc, even if it softens Blume’s edges.

Indebted to Blume, Fremon Craig’s thematic emphasis on womanhood charts our course through the film. Marya E. Gates points out that we see “not just a coming-of-age story but also a deeper examination of the sacrifices, trauma, and safety that women can find while building their own families.” Melena Ryzik writes about the movie’s intersection with religious freedom and bodily autonomy in light of current politics: “An era in which girls and women were held in an information vacuum — about their own bodies! — seems dangerously close to being resurrected.” More than five decades after we first met eternal sixth-grader Margaret, we need her more than ever.

Judy Blume Forever

HPR Judy Blume Forever 2 (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Davina Pardo and Leah Wolchok’s “Judy Blume Forever” debuted at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival in January and landed on Prime Video just ahead of the theatrical release this week of Kelly Fremon Craig’s highly anticipated adaptation of “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” The one-two punch lands as Republican-controlled states ramp up legislative attacks on trans rights, gender-affirming care, abortion access, and – in a return to familiar territory for Blume – libraries and the freedom of speech. The hypocrites in the GOP claim to support less government regulation and more personal freedom and liberty, but practice the exact opposite when it comes to things like drag shows and the censorship of books.

Enter the heroic Blume, now 85 years old but as youthful and as vital as ever. For scores of us, Blume’s books were cherished road maps through the most confusing parts of adolescence. Her sales numbers are staggering: more than 82 million copies and counting. The American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom has identified the author as one of the most frequently challenged and several of her titles as regular targets of removal or ban. But Blume has persevered, decade after decade (the seismic, game-changing “Margaret” was published in 1970). Interview subject Jason Reynolds states, “I don’t think that Judy Blume wrote her books to be timeless. I think she wrote her books to be timely. And they were so timely that they became timeless.”

That soundbite arrives near the very end of the movie in a short section that opens the door just a crack to some criticism of Blume’s books as “historical fiction” (dated details, reliably binary characters, moms that rarely work, etc.), although it’s quickly pointed out by YA historian and author Gabrielle Moss that those aspects of the stories would most certainly be different if written today. But it is Blume’s barrier-busting embrace of taboo topics like menstruation and masturbation that, combined with her originality and voice, has endeared her to generations of young people as “one of us.” The filmmakers include fantastic archival material, private and public, as Blume often makes witty asides (like the time she scorched Pat Buchanan on “Crossfire”).

Blume, who appears on camera front-and-center and gloriously reads key passages accompanied by lovely animation by Andrew Griffin and Martin O’Neill, is the star attraction, but Pardo and Wolchok enlist a small army of childhood friends, authors, family members, performers, publishers, and young readers to earnestly, and often eloquently, sing Blume’s praises. The very best talking heads are Lorrie Kim and Karen Chilstrom, two superfans who wrote to Blume again and again, from childhood to adulthood. Kim and Chilstrom represent the thousands who form intense and often one-sided relationships to heroes/artists. But Blume always wrote back, and in one stunning moment, showed up.

Blume is so prolific that Pardo and Wolchok are forced to make hard choices. I think they succeeded, as many personal and literary milestones are marked by Blume herself, who indicates the variety of ways in which “It’s Not the End of the World,” “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing,” “Blubber,” “Deenie,” “Tiger Eyes,” “Wifey,” and “Forever …” were (and were not) cultivated from her own experiences. The latter novel, which caused an uproar for presenting teenage sex without some kind of punishing consequence like pregnancy or death, is echoed in the title of the documentary. The word also works as a wish for Blume’s earthly longevity and the everlasting life of her bibliography.

Beau Is Afraid

HPR Beau Is Afraid (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

“Hereditary” notched one of the most dazzling directorial debuts in recent memory, catapulting writer-director Ari Aster into the rarefied air of A24 auteurs, the hearts of genre hounds, and the spotlight of serious crossover attention. The filmmaker utterly curb-stomped any thoughts of a sophomore slump with “Midsommar,” a folk horror masterpiece even better than “Hereditary.” Expectations for round three, the decidedly different “Beau Is Afraid,” couldn’t have been higher. The divisive, three-hour phantasmagoria trades the spine-tingling, bone-rattling terror of the previous work for a deeply personal black comedy. But is it funny?

Aster cannot be faulted for taking advantage of his success to make a bold attempt at something outside the hues and tones of his previous two films. And assuredly, the filmmaker’s commitment to exploring PTSD and examining looming family ghosts link “Beau Is Afraid” to the brand. But reviews and reactions are expectedly split within groups of critics as well as fans. Ehrlich tags it as a “true original in spite of all that it borrows” (no disagreement there) while LaSalle sees “a movie that’s all talent and no discipline, which, in practice, is even worse than a movie that’s all discipline and no talent.” As for me, the burdensome length didn’t do the story any favors, despite Joaquin Phoenix’s reliability.

Phoenix’s title character joins a long line of emotionally paralyzed worriers tethered to apron strings forged of iron. Hot on the heels of “The Fabelmans,” “Beau Is Afraid” also breaks bread with, among others, “Portnoy’s Complaint,” “Psycho,” “Mother (1996),” the “Oedipus Wrecks” segment of “New York Stories,” and “My Winnipeg” (which tops Aster’s film with a fraction of the budget and an 80-minute clock). We learn that Beau’s father died at the point of sexual climax during which his son was conceived – and on his wedding night, no less. Beau, who shares the same heart defect that claimed his dad’s life, has remained a virgin into middle age.

No doubt many Aster admirers will dig the film’s commitment to the surrealist blurring of the “real” (such as it is) and the impossible as Beau fulfills his promise to attend the funeral of his mother. Our hapless protagonist is propelled from the dubious safety and shelter of his ratty, spider-infested apartment above porn shop Erectus Ejectus into an episodic odyssey fit for the imagination of Leopold Bloom. Along the way, Aster tries out all manner of gags and humiliations, setting up motifs (testicular torment!) that will receive callbacks and payoffs once the narrative reaches its eventual destination.

I have no doubt that Aster enjoyed making “Beau Is Afraid” a lot more than I enjoyed watching it. And I did enjoy some of the cogs and gears if not the sum total of their assembled machinery. When Aster tries his hand at staging a play in the manner of Wes Anderson’s many instances of glorious theatricals, the gorgeous design, complete with a reverential nod to “The Wizard of Oz,” breathes some life into the ordeal as a temporary distraction. I know the big showdown with Patti LuPone is supposed to be the main event, but it is the preceding scene that makes one wish Parker Posey would have been around for much, much more. She is easily the highlight of the movie.

Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror

HPR Woodlands Dark (2021)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

References to more than 200 films and dozens of insights from scholars, programmers, filmmakers, authors and others justify the more than three-hour running time of Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies founder Kier-La Janisse’s engrossing documentary “Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror.” Originally conceived by the director as a much shorter bonus featurette to accompany Severin’s restoration of “The Blood on Satan’s Claw,” the sprawling, near comprehensive overview is a must for horror hounds and cinephiles. Following a 2021 South by Southwest premiere, the film is available as a standalone physical media release. It also anchors Severin’s handsome Blu-ray box set “All the Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium of Folk Horror.”

Divided into chapters, the film begins with an overview of the “unholy trinity” of genre/mode influences. Piers Haggard’s “The Blood on Satan’s Claw,” Michael Reeves’s “Witchfinder General,” and Robin Hardy’s “The Wicker Man” spoke to Vietnam War-era anxieties and powerful anti-authoritarian sentiments. Whether real or imagined, witches and witchcraft as vehicles for the feminist rebuke of the patriarchy set down deep thematic roots. Other core folk horror tropes, like ritual sacrifice and explorations of paganism and the Old Gods as manifested in the pastoral and the agrarian, would go on to inspire future moviemakers.

Determined to accept the largest number of potential titles, Janisse operates with a spirit of inclusiveness that welcomes all kinds of things that might be better (or at least more commonly) categorized in other popular horror subgenres. For example, folk horror isn’t necessarily the first thing that comes to mind when assessing Herschell Gordon Lewis’s “Two Thousand Maniacs” or Alan Parker’s “Angel Heart” or Bernard Rose’s “Candyman,” but Janisse and her interview subjects make a reasonable case for their consideration.

The wide net cast by “Woodlands Dark” snares international films of many types and vintages. Extending the big tent approach, happy listmakers will find entries from Australia, Canada, Czechoslovakia, Iceland, Italy, Japan, Mexico, Norway, Poland, Serbia, the former Soviet Union and others, alongside the heavy presence of material originating in the United Kingdom and the United States. Theatrical features share the conversation with made-for-TV movies and individual episodes of series such as “Doctor Who,” “The Waltons,” “The Twilight Zone,” “Tales From the Darkside,” “Thriller,” and several more.

The sheer breadth of Janisse’s labors means that only a handful of the huge catalog receives the kind of deep dive that many viewers crave. It’s a minor complaint, though, given the expertise that radiates so passionately from the parade of assembled enthusiasts. By the time we reach the end, which lifts up the contributions of Ben Wheatley, Robert Eggers, Ari Aster, and a handful of other contemporary practitioners, Janisse has convincingly shown us the ancestors and origins of “A Field in England,” “The Witch,” and “Midsommar.” By this point, we have been asked to wrestle with the largest definition of folk horror to date. Academic Dawn Keetley offers one of the best summaries: “As our world becomes more urban, global, complex, and virtual, our nostalgia for a life that is more rooted, rural, and embodied increases exponentially.”

Boston Strangler

HPR Boston Strangler (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

In “Boston Strangler,” writer-director Matt Ruskin revisits the mysteries and inconsistencies of the notorious serial killer’s case, adding another chapter to the onscreen saga of the true crime staple. Featuring outstanding performances by Keira Knightley and Carrie Coon as the journalists who investigated the story for the Boston Record American, Ruskin’s movie will appeal to thriller devotees who enjoy making comparisons between published history and Hollywood versions. Handsomely photographed by Ben Kutchins to take full advantage of the 1960s setting, the movie’s most successful aspect is the way in which Ruskin focuses attention on the sexism and gender-based discrimination faced by Knightley’s Loretta McLaughlin.

The real-life McLaughlin, who died at the age of 90 in 2018, would eventually become the second woman in charge of the editorial page at the Boston Globe and a dogged public health advocate who extensively covered the AIDS crisis. Prior to those milestones, she was the reporter who broke the Boston Strangler story. Determined to treat the content with a stately air of old-fashioned respect befitting the period, Ruskin downplays the most salacious and sensationally graphic dimensions of the murders. The decision mutes the movie’s credentials as a piece of outright horror, but the filmmaker’s close attention to process and procedure offers enough drama to retain viewer interest.

“Boston Strangler” owes a debt to several films that connect a series of killings to media outlets pursuing information and police departments struggling to apprehend the person or persons responsible. In one scene, Ruskin apes the terrifying “lion’s den” encounter from David Fincher’s “Zodiac.” In others, the depiction of the partnership between McLaughlin and Coon’s more seasoned Jean Cole (in real life, the women knew each other long before the Boston Strangler story) rhymes with the team-up of Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey in Maria Schrader’s “She Said.” In subtler ways, Ruskin nods to the cinematic legacy of Clarice Starling in Jonathan Demme’s endlessly influential “The Silence of the Lambs.”

Unlike Demme’s film, “Boston Strangler” is missing a charismatic and diabolical antagonist on par with Hannibal Lecter. Ruskin, of course, draws his film from nonfiction sources and is further frustrated by the compelling multiple-killer theory that casts serious doubt on claims that Albert DeSalvo (played here by David Dastmalchian) was responsible for all 13 of the murders attributed to the Boston Strangler. The filmmaker does his best to sort out the involvement of the opportunistic inmate George Nassar and the even more opportunistic attorney F. Lee Bailey, but the ambiguity and uncertainty of the still-open cases – DeSalvo’s body was exhumed in 2013 for DNA testing that would confirm his 1964 murder of final verified victim Mary Sullivan – clouds the film with grim stoicism.

To date, the Boston Strangler case has inspired multiple films and storylines on television shows. Given the lack of resolution and the perpetrator’s modus operandi, which eschewed forced entry in favor of posing as maintenance, delivery, or service workers, Ruskin’s take will not likely be the final word. As a version told through the eyes of McLaughlin, however, this interpretation considers the kinds of personal and professional barriers and obstacles overcome by women who operated in male-dominated spaces and refused to accept patriarchal norms and expectations.

Reggie

HPR Reggie 1 (2023)

Movie review by Greg Carlson

Baseball Hall of Fame slugger and living legend Reggie Jackson is the subject of Alexandria Stapleton’s eponymous feature documentary, now streaming on Amazon’s Prime Video. No stranger to interviewing outsize personalities with egos to match – the director’s feature debut was the Roger Corman biography “Corman’s World: Exploits of a Hollywood Rebel” – Stapleton fashions a sturdy evaluation of Jackson’s career and legacy, with the superstar front and center in a series of contemporary and candid on-camera interviews supported by a wealth of archival footage. “Reggie” is nowhere near the final word on one of the game’s most dynamic heroes, but fans and newbies alike should find plenty to ponder.

Stapleton tracks the ascendancy of Jackson through a straightforward and chronological structuring of milestones and life events. Viewers are confronted with the racist reality faced by athletes on and off the field as Jackson recounts early playing days and reflects on a MLB career that spanned two decades from 1967 to 1987. Several sports legends, including Hank Aaron (who died not long after filming) and Julius Erving, join Jackson on camera to discuss a variety of topics, including the lack of Black and minority representation in front offices. Stapleton expertly handles the film’s shifts in tone, which frequently circle back to Jackson’s reliable outspokenness on racial inequalities.

Despite Jackson’s close identification with the New York Yankees, Stapleton takes her time before addressing those chapters of Reggie’s career. Jackson’s tenure in Oakland presents the filmmaker with an opportunity to consider the civil rights-era politics of the Black Panthers and to remind many that Jackson was an established star in yellow and green – contributing to five consecutive AL West divisional titles, three pennants in a row, and World Series victories in 1972, 1973, and 1974 – before he entered free agency. Once he started dressing in pinstripes for the start of the 1977 season, Jackson would write the most memorable chapters of his playing career, no small feat given what he had already accomplished.

Stapleton understands how to articulate the extraordinary pressures that faced Jackson once he joined the Yankees, succinctly summarizing the prickly relationship between Reggie and manager Billy Martin (who famously pulled Jackson after the player didn’t show enough hustle in a nationally-televised game against the Red Sox on June 18, 1977). The director also circles key moments in Jackson’s saga with popular catcher and captain Thurman Munson, who famously tagged Jackson as “Mr. October” without realizing what kind of impact and longevity the nickname would have.

“Reggie” briefly addresses Jackson’s parallel career as a commercial endorser of everything from the candy bars bearing his name (full disclosure: I ate a lot of them) to Panasonic video cameras and recorders. Jackson points out that at the time, he made more money as a spokesperson than he did for playing baseball. Volkswagen, Puma, Kellogg’s Frosted Mini-Wheats, and a junior batting trainer system are among the advertisements showcased in a nostalgic sequence attesting to some serious star appeal. For any number of possible reasons, Stapleton steers clear of Jackson’s off-field personal life, although daughter Kimberly appears briefly toward the end of the movie.

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.