It is a fine art to pack a festival schedule with movies and talent that will be meaningful three months later. The uncanny instincts of Durling and his two programming directors have resulted in a compelling program that boosts the Oscar vibe. Beyond the marquee names that attract often frenzied crowds, the festival showcases an impressive crop of films. I gorged on 36 features and documentaries and another 16 shorts.
However moving, inspiring, educational and brilliant, the bulk of these works will not be picked up by distributors. The filmmakers will travel to other festivals and replay the courtship game anew. Certainly, major studios will nab a couple, and independents will grab a few more that will gain a limited release in a formulaic marketplace.
The road to the big screen is fraught with perils.
In The United States, the appetite for nontraditional fare does surface in major, sophisticated urban areas. But the films shown at festivals will struggle to find an audience outside of safe havens.
Big blockbusters typically do equally well at the domestic and foreign box office. Critically acclaimed, but less predictable films, will succeed abroad even if they barely register domestically.
Consider three Academy Award nominees, all financed through U.S studios, and their box office numbers. As of Feb. 4, “Letters from Iwo Jima” only collected 6.24 percent of its receipts at home in spite of a famous director. “Pan’s Labyrinth” snatched 26.70 percent, and “Babel” picked up 34.43 percent domestically. A movie with a foreign pedigree, like Pedro Almodóvar’s “Volver,” automatically sees its prospects diminished. The o’seas b.o., as Variety would describe it, becomes critical.
Foreign movies do not do well here, where only one non-English (at least partially) movie, “Babel,” made the Top Ten that same week and it is considered a success! I cannot recall an instance where a foreign movie garnered the top spot. Moviegoers in Japan, Spain, Germany, France and Italy have a greater choice of movies on their screens that we ever do in the U.S.
In this environment, it is a thrilling pleasure to watch productions from – to name only those I screened – Romania, Australia, the United Kingdom, Korea, Spain, Argentina, Morocco, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Iran, the Netherlands, Canada and the Czech Republic.
The only disappointment was “Le Dernier des Fous,” an absolute failure from France. Avoid it, but if you get the unlikely opportunity, check out the following: “2:37,” “Beautiful Ohio” (I’ve got to see movies with titles like that. When a woman told director Chad Lowe how much she loved the lovely portrayal of her home state, he replied that it was shot mostly in New York state), “Beauty in Trouble,” “Bella,” “Blindsight,” “Chasing the Dream,” “Chronicles of an Escape,” “Crazy Love” (yeah, really crazy!), “First Snow,” “Trade,” “United Gates of America,” “Waiter” and “Welcome Home.”
“United Gates of America” is a documentary by former New York Times journalist Charlie LeDuff. I say former because he quit a few days after we met. Charlie set up shop in California’s largest gated community, a full-fledged city with its own police force, fire district, etc, all behind gates. Almost half of California’s new homes are built behind gates in neighborhoods (or cities) where nonresidents are not allowed. This is a peculiarly American concept of community – without the troublesome common. This documentary has been shown on … British television but has no distributor for the U.S. I liked how Charlie introduced himself as a journalist working for “the best of the worst.” His opinions on the news media and journalism closely mirror mine. I have to admit to some vindication when a guy who works for the most prestigious paper in the country – and a Pulitzer Prize winner – shares my views on this most timid and tepid industry.
The local paper has embarked on a full-front assault to redefine excellence in journalism. Since July, when a few writers and editors resigned in protest of what they saw as interference and meddling on the part of the owner in the impartial and independent news process, 39 employees have left or been fired. This is out of a newsroom of 45 when I was there.
As much as I sympathize, partially, with most of their grievances, I reject the facile argument that the owner bears sole responsibility for the newspaper’s woes.
It is unethical and unprofessional for someone – anyone – to control a journalist’s writings. The conventional paradigm of American journalism is that journalists must report the news without injecting it with their personal opinion. The required neutrality soon becomes artificial and sacrifices investigative depth for perceived balance.
The process is intrinsically unbalanced. Editors function as gatekeepers. They decide what is newsworthy and how to play articles on the page. Those choices shape how readers view – literally and figuratively – the news: A 1,500-word article on the front page has naturally more weight than a brief on A20. The New York Times famously relegated stories on massive demonstrations against a military involvement in Iraq to interior pages. At the same time, it gave prime real estate to articles covering the case (such as it was) for war. This is far from an impartial process. To require a writer to take him/herself out of the writing strikes me as odd. I do not equate formulating an opinion with squashing others.
And I am elated the rest of the world does not insist on emasculating its journalists. The industry is also one-sided as most newspapers operate with a de-facto monopoly.
I admit to surprise, therefore, when a former top editor is elevated to the pinnacle of integrity. This is the same person who sacked longtime employees, hired a divisive managing editor, increased the number of unpaid interns while retaining other staff without paying them benefits. The latest squirmish revolves around a unionization vote that the publisher resents. Our heroic editor most certainly would not have supported it either. People who benefit from being part of the problem do not lead to a solution.
And if journalists had enlisted readers to support their cause and encouraged them to cancel their subscriptions, they would have been dismissed summarily. (A grocery store labor dispute two years ago did not elicit much sympathy from the journalists who now seek ours. Fight the system. Fight it wholly, not only when it affects you.)
I also smirk when the alternative weekly, once derided by the daily’s journalists, becomes everyone’s favorite child and, in some cases, employer. It is the journalistic failures of the daily paper that led to the birth of the weekly, 20 years ago. Precisely because it has a unique voice, its articles and columns are far more informative.
The mainstream media’s reluctance to question does not happen in a vacuum. Several (non-American) friends have pointed that people here, in general, do not question much of anything.
A startup paper has stepped into the vaccum to capitalize on the self-inflicted demise. The following published in a recent laudatory piece: "...With only the best quality name brands such as Tommy Bahama and Roy's Cabana, their clothing and accessories fit the upscale surfer in any age group..." If that doesn't rankle you, chew on the closer: "... readers will receive 10 percent off regularly priced items by mentioning this article." Enuf sed!
The film festival organized many parties where I allowed these pesky issues to drown. Elisabeth and I mingled with filmmakers, ate hors d’oeuvres, drank much vodka and danced our way inhibited through five in courtyards, hotels and restaurants. No longer much of a clubber (unlike Elisabeth who thrives in tight, loud spaces), I nonetheless got into the spirit and had a great time. All of the events were held in private places and thus not subject to the customary alcohol/non-alcohol segregation. For the same reason, law enforcement personnel were delightfully absent from the festivities.
Fearing a potential Driving Under the Influence citation if not outright arrest, we hired a cab to take us to the Four Seasons Biltmore hotel in Montecito for what was billed as the most exclusive party, likely on account of the rumored but unseen presence of Will Smith and Tom Cruise.
At 11 p.m., the freeway exit was jammed. It took 30 minutes to cover the last 400 meters, with the meter ticking forward relentlessly and too much rain and no umbrella to allow us to walk. The taxi reached the porte cochere. Doors flung open and Elisabeth emerged, resplendent in her evening best, to excited shouts.
"Someone's on the red carpet," they said.
Ushered inside, we joined thousands who swarmed the spacious lobby and reception halls. Booze flowed freely, music blared, food trays circulated: all infectiously intoxicating.
Careful about too much intoxication!
Because a D.U.I. ticket is a costly affair, running in the thousands of dollars, a full-fledged cottage industry has sprouted to shuttle excited revelers to and fro. Santa Barbara and neighboring communities may rely on 21 unregulated taxicab companies to avoid D.U.I. pitfalls, but don’t expect the cities to provide public transit. The last bus back to UCSB and student apartments in Isla Vista (the majority of the partiers) on Saturdays is at 11 p.m. Why pay $1.25 when $30 will do?
Even as I live in a town with the possibility to view challenging films, I catch up on those whose theatrical release I missed with Netflix, a DVD rental service by mail. They stock all the adventurous flicks I seek, even if some titles take a while to make it to my mailbox.
Before the Holidays, I responded to an advertising campaign by Blockbuster Video to pick up a free rental for each Netflix envelope. I printed my movie list queue (42-strong at the time!) and headed to the store. Blockbuster’s shelves bulged with dozens of copies, but the bulk, however, are strictly mainstream pictures and I struck out. I did manage to find five titles that I got for to see for free.
I rushed to file this blog entry in order to publish my Academy Award picks before, ahem, the golden statuettes are handed out. I have seen most, if not all, the nominated films, and I hope to make educated guesses in those categories:
Foreign-language Film
Great, great selection! Because it deals with human conscience in front of a totalitarian state, I lean toward Germany’s “The lives of others.” Flock to Blockbuster Video if you dare and pick up Denmark’s “After the wedding,” Morocco’s “Days of Glory,” Mexico’s “Pan’s Labyrinth” and Canada’s “Water.” These films, with the exception of the German entry, represent the global filmmaking experience. “After the Wedding” was shot partially in India. “Water,” is meant to portray India but was filmed in Sri Lanka and does not feel very Canadian. “Pan’s Labyrinth” takes place in Spain. In the same vein, “Babel” might be filed under U.S. productions, but its director is Mexican and the dialogue mostly in Arabic, Japanese, Spanish and even sign language. I love it!
Original Screenplay
I saw “Little Miss Sunshine” the day my little cat died. She was not even my own cat, but one who stayed on an extended visit after her owner decided on other distractions. This little-movie-that-could lifted my spirits. Since I always support dramas, my vote goes this time to a comedy, bypassing, but not ignoring the other great nominees: “Babel,” “Letters from Iwo Jima,” “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “The Queen.”
Adapted Screenplay
Yay to “The Departed” (but see the Honk Kong originals) and “Little Children.” I love “Borat,” but it feels so adlibbed that I pain to imagine a screenplay. I wanted to like “Children of Men” (check out the riveting “25 Days Later” in the genre), but was disappointed.
Director and Picture
I know Martin Scorsese has never won anything. I know “Babel” is (last year’s) “Crash” with a passport (“Brokeback Mountain” should have won - it would make this year’s choices easier).
So which is it?
Best helmer for Martin? Best pic for “Babel”? Seems fair enough. “The Departed” and “Babel” depict situations that are not so black and white, and “Letters from Iwo Jima” revisits a heroic battle from the perspective of, gasp, the enemy and in its own language - imagine that! I hope the academy will find a way to honor Martin Scorsese, Clint Eastwood and Alejandro González Iñarritú, all visionary directors. (When I came back from six months in Europe, the first movie I saw was Iñarritú’s powerful and groundbreaking “Amores Perros.” What joy to see a Mexican film – how often have you seen Mexican films? - that shatters stereotypical depictions.)
So I have three choices for two spots … ummm… can someone sit on somebody’s lap?
Oh – don’t look for actor/actress picks. I have never really been into the people in front of the camera, sorry.
Pass the envelope please.
And after the dust settles…. Give premature thanks to Sean Penn for adapting and directing Jon Krakauer’s “Into the Wild,” a fascinating tale of a bright young man who ditched comfort and money to live out his dreams in the Alaska wilderness. Look for it on your screens in late September. With luck, it’ll premiere in Telluride and Toronto and ride a wave of critical acclaim…
This morning, I went to the start line of the Tour de Californie, and watched as bicyclists prepped to tackle the penultimate leg of the sophomoric race. I am forever imminently excited to bathe in the glow of sporting events. And by that I don’t mean sports that take three-minute commercial breaks every 30 seconds, or those that mimic a military invasion by thugs. I am especially fond of events that draw a field of international competitors and a carnival atmosphere. I have been lucky to attend many ski world cup races and two Olympics.
The Tour de France climbs over mountain passes make for spectacular viewing with thousands of screaming spectators narrowly lining up the roadways, encouraging any and all racers who valiantly defy gravity. I have driven the incline up to Les Arcs in the Alps and the hairpin turns were tough on the car.
Growing up in France, I watched with glee the finish on the Champs-Elysées. This morning, a comment by a Crédit Agricole team racer forced me to turn my head.
“Je vais aller faire pipi,” he said.
I wished him good luck.
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