The "M" Word, and Meaning in Independent Film

Here's an article from the film journal Cine Action on the "mumblecore" movement of the last few years. I'm glad the author is in support of DIY cinema, but it's always frustrating to me that these types of articles always stay within the confines of what has been deemed as "mumblecore" and all but ignore the larger independent, digital, no-budget movement out there. The title of this particular article is, after all "Micro-Budgeting, Micro-Drama, and the 'Mumblecore' Movement," The "m" word being only one of those three terms. Perhaps I'm being too harsh. One can only write about so much in the space of an article, of course. I guess I just wish American independent film was a little more unified and a certain section of it not fenced off and given a funny name. And although the author does not do it here, the part is often mistaken for the whole.

Also to her credit, the author does try to fit the movement within a larger context she dubs "slow film." I'm not quite sure it works. It's much too broad a descriptor, but it touches upon what I think is central to independent film, which is how these films create meaning, and how much richer, more complex they often are in that regard than middle-minded masterpieces. In other words, termite art versus white-elephant art, to paraphrase Manny Farber. And to paraphrase Ray Carney, whom I regard as the authority par excellence on this subject, these films take away the aboutness of experience and force the viewer to undergo the experience. That's why independent film (and indeed all "art film") is important. Film should nourish the soul. Anything less is a diversion.

Trailer for Frank V. Ross's Tiger Tail in Blue

Via David Lowery and the film's own Facebook page, here's the trailer for Frank V. Ross's new film Tiger Tail in Blue. I recently purchased Frank's four previous films from him directly, and each one is an uncommonly nuanced, emotionally simple yet complex slice of daily American life the likes of which is rarely achieved in contemporary independent film. Maybe I'm exaggerating a little; all I know is that I loved them. Anyway:

Trailer for Sam Neave's Almost in Love

Here's the trailer for Sam Neave's newest, which is featured on the film's page for the Abu Dhabi Film Festival.

Cry Funny Happy (Sam Neave, 2003)

I recently rewatched Sam Neave's 2003 film Cry Funny Happy, which I first saw a few years ago. That initial viewing pretty much floored me -- I wasn't expecting the film to come anywhere close to the emotional terrain it ended up in. The film focuses on several friends, one of whom, Wes, is turning 30 and has decided to throw a party at his and his girlfriend's apartment. Several of Wes's friends have made the trip to New York City to attend his party. We are introduced to them in a series of intercutted scenes, and eventually it all converges at Wes's apartment, where the party gets underway.

Up until this point, the film is very well acted, and I would add very well written, but I learned via the DVD's commentary that it was almost totally improvised, which isn't surprising, except that it feels written with perhaps the characters given the freedom to ad lib as needed. The whole film has the feel of Cassavetes Husbands, or a Mike Leigh film, where the improvisation was done beforehand, and then "locked down" with a script. In other words, very little from the performances feels extraneous. This is due to another fact revealed in the commentary: the actors were given time to work on their characters and relationships to each other before shooting began, and as a result the film feels both spontaneous and focused.

My initial impression was that Neave was simply going to show us some interesting characters, give them a party to attend during which some skeletons might be revealed, and then send them on their way. Instead, almost on a dime, Wes has a breakdown and the party derails. It is here that the focus I mentioned above becomes more apparent (especially during a second viewing). Wes's character is harboring some sort of pain that up until this point is hinted at through his humor and his passive-aggressive arguments with his girlfriend. We are never given a concrete reason as to why he feels this way or why he loses it during his party. Neave says in the commentary that there were some deleted scenes having to do with Wes gambling, perhaps losing some money or something. I think it was wise to leave these scenes out. Not being able to pin Wes's behavior on any specific event forces us to not only observe Wes more acutely, but perhaps realize that these feelings and behaviors aren't quite so foreign to our own lives, either. When all is said and done, it's pretty much a tour de force of independent filmmaking. I've seen very little in the no-budget movement from the last decade that matches its sharp observations and intensity.

Neave's new film, Almost in Love, is just beginning to be shown at film festivals, and I'll being seeing it for sure when it makes its way to the Bay Area.

Two Box Sets: Swanberg's Collected Films 2011 and Nilsson's 9@Night series

So, Joe Swanberg is releasing his last four films as a box set, via Factory 25 and employing a unique distribution plan by releasing each film quarterly along with extras. I have to admit, I haven't seen a Swanberg film since Hannah Takes the Stairs, but not because I didn't like his films. I thought his film before that, LOL, was very good. I saw it in a packed theater in San Francisco's Mission district, and the crowd loved it. Since then he's seemed to garner a lot of critical derision. I can recall an audience member being quoted after attending of his more recent films as saying something like, "These films are the product of a culture with nothing left to say." (I can't find the article that contained the quote.)

I find I'm often attracted to polarizing artists. Sometimes, they're misunderstood or unfairly maligned, and sometimes, well, the work just happens to suck. I'd like to take a look at these films, and I am intrigued by the distribution method. But at one hundred dollars, the price is a bit steep, especially if I end up not liking the films. Here's a post at cinemaspragus that makes one of the films in the set, Silver Bullets, look interesting -- certainly a departure from anything I've seen by Swanberg in the past.

On a somewhat related note, there is a box set I've been meaning to buy for a long time now -- Rob Nilsson's 9@Night series, and before I even consider buying Swanberg's set, I'm definitely getting Nilsson's first. I saw two of the films in the series when they played at the San Francisco Roxie in 2008, and was pretty blown away by how good they were. A filmmaker friend once told me Nilsson's movie's were sloppy, and I could see what he meant by that; Rob didn't seem to care much for aesthetics, at least not in a superficial sense. I got the feeling he didn't sweat the details because he was reaching for something higher. Most of the time, he got there. I thought it was everything independent film should be. I plan on getting the set soon, and writing about each film in length.

Microcinema

Here's a recent article about microcinemas in New York City, and here's another, better article about microcinemas across the country that appeared in Cineaste a couple years ago. I attended an open screening at SF's own ATA once. I liked some of the films -- I remember an abstract, computer generated one in particular that was pretty great -- but the volume was turned up so high during every film that it hurt my ears (remember: these are small, DIY films and don't have the best sound mixes to begin with), and they played a Hendrix live album loudly during the intermissions which made it hard to socialize. It was such an alienating experience that I never went back. I suppose I'll suck it up one day and attend another screening, or maybe check out Craig Baldwin's Other Cinema, mentioned in the Cineaste article. I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining; I love the idea of microcinemas, of course. I just hope they don't all need to have the atmosphere of a dive bar to bring in an audience.

Squaw Hootnanny

"In 1987, my sis and her best friend Brandy formed a two-girl rock band in our backyard. It lasted about a week and spawned one album. 'Squaw Hootnanny' was the title track and my brother was recruited to provide pot-and-pan percussion."