SAGIndie

Last Friday I finally got to see Ash Christian’s first feature Fat Girls. It premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival last spring, and is now enjoying popularity at OutFest (in fact, Christian won the "Outstanding Emerging Talent" prize from the fest.) I’m quite relieved to report that Christian’s film features Rodney Miller, a gay teen already quite comfortable with his sexuality, thus successfully side-stepped the overly angsty or saccharine plot devices that tend to swallow films about teenagers whole.

Hailed as "a completely new voice", "young and quirky" and "fresh", I was sort of suprised to see quite a few cliches employed in the film, which gave it a not-so-fresh-feeling. I was also suprised to see the footage looking as though it was shot on Hi-8 with a dirty lens - however, a filmmaker can get away with sub-par production value if the story is interesting and well executed. Every review I’ve read has called this film "Napoleon Dynamite meets (insert quirky film about gay teenagers/outcasts/trashy Texans)", which I suppose is a fair judgement, though I’d argue that Napoleon’s jokes were consistantly smarter. This is not to say that Fat Girls wasn’t funny - on the contrary! It’s very funny, but it was also made by a 20 year old boy that sometimes settles for the easy gag. You may disagree with me, like the audience did, if you think that getting caught by a Sunday school class while performing fellatio is the epitome of comedy. Were I to have made a feature at that age, I can see the final product being on par this one - but as an older and wiser 22 year old, my sense of humor has matured beyond reminding someone that their father called using the bathroom "dropping the kids off at the pool".

The acting is solid over all, despite a particularly wooden delivery by the actor that portrayed Joey, the hot new boy in school. Some of the other performances leaned towards being a tad caricature-ish, but that didn’t hinder them - Deborah Theaker steals every scene she’s in. The flow of the film is fine, though it gets weighed down every now and then by some completely useless scenes that are repeated later and offer no payoff, leading up to a confusing and abrupt ending. Beyond all this, though, the film has a lot of heart and is able to laugh at itself and I can see this becoming a cult hit. I can’t see the film itself experiencing mainstream success, unless people like the citizens of Canton, TX can get over the fact that there are people who participate in homosexuality and there isn’t anything they can do about it (beyond kicking the film crew out of their fair city on account of the subject matter). However, Christian alluded to the fact that this film will enjoy an extended life as a cable television series.

In the end, though, all these arguments feel like useless nitpicking. Ash Christian made a pretty successful feature before he could (legally) drink, which makes it easier to forgive the film’s shortcomings. So congratulations on the success of your first film, Ash - it is almost as good as my directorial debut. Almost.

This weekend I went to Outfest and I just have to ask: Why so grumpy? You’re in your 24th year of a successful film festival designed to educate and enlighten! You are doing wonderful and exciting things here…and yet the people I encountered this weekend seemed bored or irritated. It wasn’t just me either - I heard several people grumbling about the same thing as we left the DGA. A suggestion of something to keep in mind: as with any fest, or any job for that matter, what you are doing is bigger than you. If someone has a negative experience with even just a few people, it is going to reflect poorly on everyone. It may not be fair, but it’s a fact. If you want people to come to your festival, don’t make it an unpleasant affair. I don’t think I really need to expand on the rudeness I encountered, but I will say I am really disappointed at the way I was treated. I am here to support you and your films. Remember that before you grab me by the elbow to turn me around or ignore me when I ask you a question.

ANYWAY, on to the films:

I didn’t get to see the Saturday screening of Fat Girls, as it was oversold. There were quite a few people with and without tickets who were turned away at the door, which makes me even more excited to finally see this film. (It’s like Fat Girls is playing hard to get, and you just know I love the thrill of the chase!) I managed to get a ticket to Friday night’s screening, so you’ll have to wait until next week to hear what I think about Ash Christian’s debut. And I know you’re just dying to.

With Sunday came a special SAGIndie sponsored screening of Fabulous! The Story of Queer Cinema (which is also airing this weekend on IFC). My date went into the screening not very keen on the idea of this documentary, not because they have a problem with the subject matter, but because they didn’t think it would interest them that much. They emerged with a different attitude and, consequently, would not shut up already about how they remember what a big deal it was when Ellen Degeneres came out.

The documentary itself is rather simply made and carries a sort of "Gay Cinema 101" format, but remains quite intriguing. It includes interviews with homosexual heavyweight helmers like John Waters, Gus Van Sant, Todd Haynes and the incomparable Christine Vachon. Interviews are coupled with some very fascinating clips from both landmark and largely forgotten or extremely underground gay films from a 1947 Kenneth Anger film to Brokeback Mountain. The film also features a time line of events significant to the mainstream acceptance of GLBT culture, and a section highlights "subconsciously homosexual media" from the 70s, including Sonny and Cher and The Brady Bunch. (Really? The Brady Bunch seemed gay? I never noticed!)

I was particularly interested in the coverage of several breakout films that dealt with the advent of AIDS. Now, I was much too young to be aware of the initial impact AIDS had, as I was an infant in the mid 80s. We share our birthday, in fact (along with the first sexual reassignment operation and Matthew Shephard.) To me, these extremely low-budget films are especially intriguing for two reasons: partly because this has happened in my lifetime and also because we had never before seen a community of people band together to create awareness of and fight an epidemic like we did with AIDS just 20 years ago. Expanding on the latter, when that same group of people feel like their experiences should be shared in their own voices, coupled with the increasing access to cameras, they have the motivation to create some really compelling films.

I’m going to recommend this to anyone reading this, whether or not you think you’re interested in independent queer cinema. At the end of the day it’s just an entertaining film history documentary, and films by, for and about the homosexual community are only going to become bigger. People whose stories have been ignored by or hidden from the mainstream still have a voice and will find a way to be heard. And that’s a great thing.

So, another Los Angeles Film Festival has come and gone (with yet another fest - Outfest - holding it’s opening night this evening with Puccini for Beginners) and as I sit here (on my mountain of used Kleenex) reflecting on the past two weeks, I have to say it’s not a true film festival experience unless you’re so exhausted and sick that you’re bedridden for days after.

Little Miss Sunshine was the closing night film. After the speeches and the awards (since when is it customary to not allow a filmmaker into the theater so he can accept his award?) the film finally started. I don’t think you could have found someone in that audience who didn’t love it. Besides being very charming and funny in the most uncomfortable ways, the last 10 minutes straight had the theater screaming with laughter. The family at the center of the film managed to make some of the more absurd situations seem comprehensible. And at the risk of sounding like an old woman, Abigial Breslin is such a doll. She and her brother in the film, Paul Dano (star of one of the funniest movies ever!!) are sure to have incredible careers ahead of them.

The party afterwards was lovely. My date and I juggled with our plates of finger foods and cups of social lubrication as little Abigial B. danced to Rick James’ Superfreak (not kidding here). To be honest, it was a bit intimidating to be at this party without a coworker to tell me who everyone was. I did well on my own, though, and met some really intriguing filmmakers, including a strapping young man (there are a lot of them around these parts) named Ti West, who had been at the LAFF last year with his film The Roost. We talked about festivals and free stuff, but mostly we marveled at the dance moves another (most likely very, very high) young man. I tend to exaggerate, but I’m not when I say this guy danced as though this was 1997 and he was at a rave for hours. Who was he? Who let him in? Was he the entertainment? Someone please let me know. Is he available for bat mitzvahs?

I was definitely sorry I forgot my sure-fire crowd clearer at home, as I surveryed the huddle around Mike Ott. I had really wanted a few minutes to talk to him about his film Analog Days, and thank him for the mixtape, because that is all I have listened to for the past week. I tried to shoot him with my tranquilizer gun, but missed and hit Seth Meyers. Oh well. We stayed there quite late, or at least late enough to see people passed out of the giant pillows on the ground.

And then it was all over.

So here I sit, trying to fortify myself after the moral pneumonia that occurs during a film festival. Until next time, loyal readers!

(Oh, and remember: all hate mail, top secret communiques, marriage proposals and expensive baubles are greatly appreciated, although my response may be slow. Right now I’m busy e-stalking gathering information on fellow Chicagoan Brett L. Tinnes.)

(You better not get me sick - Ed.)

Last night, I finally got to see my first film of this year’s Los Angeles Film Festival (earlier this week I had to cancel my man date to see Undoing with Paul, in favor of hanging out with Amy Sedaris and Paul Dinello. Paul was devastated, naturally, but them’s the breaks), the much-anticipated-by-me Richard Linklater film, A Scanner Darkly.

But before I get to the film, please allow me to make a brief, unrelated statement of fact: parking at the Ford Amphitheater blows.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the Ford as a venue, and year after year, the LAFF consistently programs a kick-ass screening series at the intimate little amphitheater (previous year’s standouts include Hero and March of the Penguins).

But damn if the stacked parking situation isn’t one of the most brutal, jaw-clenching traffic scrums in town.

Ah, well - enough! If the city tried to build a lot to actually accommodate all those cars, I’d probably scream about that, too. You can’t satisfy me, I s’pose.

Anyway, the film; it was cool-ish. Keanu Reeves was decent, Robert Downey, Jr. and Rory Cochrane were awesome, Winona Ryder was unrecognizable, and the headachey rotoscoped animation style of Waking Life has given way to a more stable, less epilepsy-inducing picture.

And though the crowd had to wait until nearly an hour after the posted picture start time to allow for a mob of Warner Independent suits and their associated army of publicists to find their seats (just siddown people!), the film seemed to be well received.

And now, the Swag Report: Not much. The WIP promotions people doled out these smelly rubber

bracelets with words like DOOM, DESPAIR, and DEATH embossed on them, as pictured (who’s freakishly veiny hand is that? I ain’t sayin’). Target also disappointed, with a bizarre plastic checker set that left most people a little non-plussed - though, as my date pointed out, the thing could be used for a little bath-time diversion, being waterproof, and all.

But I won’t hold lame swag against the movie. Definitely check it out if you’re into Phillip K. Dick, animation, or have ever done drugs in Orange County (you know who you are).

Pity the poor filmmaker who must screen their film in a theater with no air conditioning for a crowd already grumpy about the heat. That’s what happened at the third and final screening of Mike Ott’s Analog Days yesterday. Watching this film in a stuffy theater with no air conditioning was super awesome, as I’m sure you can imagine.

Ott presented a sincere first effort about frustrated youth in a stubbornly ignorant and racist small-ish town in California. Here you’ll find the usual suspects: The painfully shy near-mute with a heartbreaking crush on a confused (and apparently kind of easy) girl who’s friends with another girl who is disillusioned with her community college film department (complete with irritatingly pretentious classmates). There’s the vigilante vandal, specializing in defacing the property of local racists, the sweaty, fast-talking, exaggerating lug and the one guy who got away from all of this. The actors are young and largely unknown and each was completely believeable. There was a very natural feel to their conversations, something that seems to elude many films about people of this generation.

Their story is not a new one, and that is fine. Ott even takes a stab at creating a little more depth, but seems to abandon that idea two thirds of the way into the film. Confusing editing decisions, grainy image quality and sound problems (of which there were many) aside, this is not a bad film. Had I seen it a couple years ago when I was living it, I’m sure I would have loved it. But as it was yesterday (and this may be due to the muggy theater), the thing I found myself appreciating the most was the music. Elliott Smith, Interpol, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and one of my all time favorites, Joy Division, this was a shoegazer’s soundtrack.

(That said, I’d like to mention that since I saw it yesterday, it has stuck with me enough to make me wonder if my first reactions were too harsh, and I plan on seeing it again someday. I also look forward to whatever Ott comes out with next, as first features can be something of a learning experience.)

Oh, and after the film, a suprise - one of the most unique and fitting hand outs: our very own mixtape of songs off the soundtrack. (Thank you VW for still making stereos with a tape deck! Otherwise I’d never get any use out of the cassette.)

One week into the Los Angeles Film Festival (with three days left), and I’m not sure which is funnier: Boys’ & Girls’ Guide to Getting Down, Paul Sapiano’s energetic and saucy how-to film, or the fact that The Eliza Hajek Hate Club has it’s first member. That’s right, I got an angry phone call today about a comment I made about filmmakers only doing what they do for swag bags. I thought it was obviously sarcastic, but said woman didn’t think so. She accused me of being materialistic and an embarassment to my gender. She told me she’d pray for my soul (ooh, how dramatic!). I told her she didn’t have to read my posts if she was offended, and she said not to worry, she wouldn’t be reading my "trash" anymore, so I guess that means I can be as sarcastic as I want without someone taking it seriously.

ANYWAY, back to the important stuff: Boys’ and Girls’ Guide to Getting Down. I tried to do some research on it, but the powers that be have blocked the website from my computer, citing "Sex" (oh my!) as the reason, which means that the website must be really, really awesome. Someone will have to let me know. The movie, which centers around a large group of 20-somethings "getting down" (or trying to), is presented in the fashion of retro educational films. It’s quite clever, and very funny. The friend I saw it with complained that he didn’t learn anything from the film. I didn’t expect to actually learn anything from the film, I expected to be entertained, and I was. I’ve actually been quoting it for the past couple days, and will continue to until it becomes popular and everyone knows that I’m ripping it off…

And now I’d like to take this time indulge myself (yes, even more) and attempt a sort of "Eliza Recommends" section. It’s where I’ll (try) to find interesting communities or organizations or website pertaining to film, and it’s sure to be sporadic at best, as I’m a kind of new Angeleno and am still discovering a lot of stuff myself. We’ll see how this goes. My first "ER" is Film Radar. Scott actually turned me on to this. It’s like the Bible, if the Bible was a website devoted to letting people know about damn near every specialty screening or series or lecture or what have you going on around here. So check it out.

Tonight I go to Mike Ott’s Analog Days, which I am looking forward to. After that, I plan on shooting people with tranquilizer darts so I can steal their swag bags, because that’s what embarrassments to their gender do.

(Film Radar is also on MySpace, just so’s ya know - Ed.)

Now, because I know that none of you can go that long without hearing my thoughts on the happenings at the Los Angeles Film Festival, here I am again with more reports for your reading pleasure!

Monday was the day of Austin Film Society’s very enjoyable cocktail reception at the Westwood Brewing Company. Scott and I drove over there, wishing we had DMG along for the ride to guide us through a group of people neither of us know. (She is so popular, if SAGIndie were a high school, she’d be the cheerleader who was Homecoming AND Prom Queen!)

ANYWAY, so we arrived and engaged in some scintillating conversations, including one with Matt Dentler, a strapping young man and a curator/programmer for SXSW, among other things. DMG likes him, so we figured we would too. And we did. (Almost as much as we liked the super gift bags they had prepared for us - Zippo lighter? Beer Cozy? Austin, you are my kind of people!)

*I’d like to take this moment to thank Scott F. Garner for ditching me when I was cornered by an older man who actually used the line "Can I buy you a drink?" When I reminded him the drinks were free, he asked if I was an actress. Or a model. Or a…librarian. Awkward.*

After the party ended Scott left and I went to meet Paul at the W for the Filmmaker Reception hosted by Harrison Ford. Only I got there a little early. Like an hour early. So I practiced my Hollywood skills and stood in line talking on my phone to my mom making awesome deals and talking to awesome people about awesome things. Paul arrived and I got another who’s who of the party schooling. It’s very exciting for me, as a recent college grad and pretty new Angeleno, to be allowed to converse with and learn from such successful people. It gives me hope in a city that can be as depressing as watching Showgirls on USA. As the host of the evening, Harrison Ford gave what we were told was a good speech, but that we couldn’t really hear. I was lucky enough to get some time to talk to Thoma Kikis of Darkon and Matthew Cooke of Deliver Us from Evil, two documentaries I was dying to see, but due to scheduling conflicts could not. (I have heard great things about both, though, and promise to see them someday…It gives me a lot of pleasure to see documentaries capture a lot of attention, and these two - from what I have heard - really deserve it. I fancy myself a budding documentarian, and can only hope to be in their position someday. I actually over heard someone say that so far, they have only seen Deliver Us… {and Chalk} because those were two films they could be sure were going to be good, and they only like to watch "good things". Oh! You like "good things"? A rare and novel preference, indeed!)

I like "good things" too, so I was excited about another gift bag (!!!) Don’t believe the liars who say they got into this business for "the love of film" or "to tell stories that need to be heard". They’re here, we all are, for the brick of expensive soap that smells of lemony goodness and keychain/flashlight combo.

Life is good, loyal readers, life is good.

With this past Sunday came SAGIndie’s first ever cocktail reception for the LA Film Festival, held at the swanky sushi joint, Tengu. We’ve been a sponsor of the fest for many years, and we hate to be a Johnny-come-lately group, so it seemed fitting to get in on the libation/celebration this year. When it’s the first time you try anything new like this, especially with so many more established parties occuring all around you at the same time, it’s a little nerve-wracking. Turns out, we didn’t need to worry at all. The party was a well attended success, mainly due to our incredible hosts for the evening: Jason Lee, Debi Mazar, Elliott Gould and Eddie Izzard. We even had crashers! People don’t just go and crash boring parties. As a seasoned pro at crashing parties, I should know.

ANYWAY, the food served was fabulous, consisting mostly of things I can’t pronounce, which is fine because you don’t pronounce food, you eat it. The free vodka was Absolut-ly wonderful as well. I can see me and the grapefruit flavored Absolut having a long, wonderful relationship ahead of us. The night passed entirely too quickly for the amount of fun that everyone was having, but as we all know, all good things must end (and then come back bigger and better the next year!)

I’d like to take this time to thank our volunteers for the night: the bewitching Annick Wolkan, the enchanting Jennifer Matthews, the pulchritudinous Marcus Grewe, the charming Jeremy Marisigan and the amiable Matt Antonucci. Thanks again for working so Scott, Paul, DMG and I didn’t have to!

Well, I’ve got to get out of here - there’s a screening of The Boys’ and Girls’ Guide to Getting Down I’ve got to get to. Paul is off to Undoing and Scott gets to interview Amy Sedaris and Paul Dinello about their highly anticipated film prequel to the cult television series, Strangers With Candy. He’ll be writing a Pulitzer Prize winning interview for SAGIndie’s film spotlight series, so keep a look out for that. (Just don’t let it go to his head, or next thing we know, he’ll demand that we pay for his rent in the Hotel Chelsea so he can channel his inner Gregory Corso.) DMG’s been out of the office this week, so if you see her, tell her we miss her and we want her to come home.

As I said on Friday, DMG and I had tickets to see Neil Marshall’s The Descent at the Ford Amphitheater (an excellent venue in it’s own right, but perfect for this screening). This was our second screening at the Los Angeles Film Festival, and a much anticipated one for us, as Paul and Scott had seen it at Sundance and were quick to praise this film about “hot chicks trapped in a scary cave”.

As an avid horror film fan, I’ll see just about anything that promises to scare me. That said, I was a little doubtful as to the fright value, so to speak, of a film where several attractive women spelunkers amble around in tight clothes underground.

How wrong I was! (WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD!)

I’d like to point out that in said cave there are creatures of the super heinous variety, but (for me at least) the real terror came from the idea of being trapped in a cave: the total absence of light, the frighteningly small enclosed spaces, the very real possibility that you will never, ever escape. Add a small army of ravenous predators, hunting by sound alone, and you have got yourself a pretty scary situation, especially if you are as ridiculously claustrophobic as I am. I should also mention that if you’re more into the gore aspect, you won’t be disappointed.

The acting is solid, the cinematography impressive and I see this being a hit. (The post film bathroom line consensus agrees with me.) My only minor objection is that someone told me the original UK ending, which in my humble opinion, is slightly better than what I saw, but certainly not enough to deter me from recommending this film.

I did have one mini triumph that night as well. Before the film began, I spotted an actor who held prime real estate on my bedroom wall in elementary school. I pointed him out and to my horror, DMG suggested I actually approach him. I refused, because I didn’t want to be that girl, but she insisted. Fifteen minutes of alternately hyperventilating and bursting into giggle fits and near tears, I did. It was very brief, but he was nice and I didn’t throw up on him (always a plus). I’m glad DMG made me do it, because I can see how it behooves me to have the ability to talk to anyone. It’s a trait that has gotten her fearless self quite far. Plus she bought me a beer for my “bravery”. What a lady!

Saturday night I went to Lian Lunson’s poetic documentary Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man.

The evening started with musical performances from Perla Batalla and Julie Christensen, Cohen’s backup singers since the beginning of time, and four Cohen covers by the witty and talented Martha Wainwright. The documentary itself focuses more on brief but insightful interviews with established singer/songwriters and Cohen himself, layered between truly moving musical performances by said interviewees. It seemed as though this was a live show, and I know I wasn’t the only one in attendance who felt this way.

I’d like to extend a plea to anyone (all seven of you) reading this: see this film. It doesn’t matter if you’re not a fan of Leonard Cohen, after this film you will be. (And if you still don’t like him, then you probably don’t like yourself and you need a good, hard look in the mirror.) As evidenced in the interviews with some of his more notable fans (Nick Cave, Martha and Rufus Wainwright, Bono), Cohen is one of the most remarkable and talented artists around. Any good filmmaker, budding or established, knows that inspiration comes from whatever stimulates you, be it any kind of art, conflict, nature, or current events. I feel confident that anyone who sees this will walk away with something, and hopefully go out and create something of their own.

Tonight, Scott and I will shoot back over to Westwood for Austin Film Society’s party celebrating Austin’s finest. Tomorrow Paul will attend Undoing, while I am at The Boys’ and Girls’ Guide to Getting Down, both of which were made with one of our very own Low Budget Agreements (!!!) Hey, if you can’t shamelessly plug yourself in your own blog, where can you?