Wednesday, May 18, 2011

small-town melodrama


As you've probably guessed from my Stegner House posts, I am a lover of small town mythology. Small towns are fertile ground for conflict; behind a façade of normalcy lurks a rot so fetid that only a huge blow-out can clear the air. (At least, in the movies.) Hollywood may be prone to exaggeration, but that is the name of the game with melodrama; perhaps that is why that particular genre is so well-suited to the small town setting.

Here are some conventions of the genre: everyone knows everyone, and their business too; the young ones are dying to get out and the old ones are waiting to die; there is an unshakable power structure in place, with the town’s richest family at the top of the pyramid; there is no sanctity of marriage—everyone cheats on everyone; not only is difference not tolerated, it is actively sought and destroyed; and most importantly, no one is who they pretend to be.

Here are a few of my favourite small-town melodramas:

The Chase (1966)

Directed by Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde) and starring Marlon Brando, Robert Redford and Jane Fonda, this film chronicles a day in the life of a rip-roaring Texas town, where local bad boy Charlie "Bubber" Reeves is headed after he breaks out of jail. The sheriff, played by Brando, tries to convince the convict's wife (who is engaged in a tryst with his best friend) to get him to surrender, but a vigilante mob is out for blood, and forces a fiery climax that ends well for no one. This gripping film is an under-appreciated classic and a quintessential small-town melodrama.

The Last Picture Show (1971)

Released at a time when psychedelia was in full swing, this quiet, black-and-white film feels like a reaction against the hippie radicals of New Hollywood. Operating in the classical mode of studio masters like Hawks and Ford, it’s less of a melodrama and more of an archetypal character piece, or as Sight and Sound’s James Bell describes it, “en elegy at once for a period in history, for a time in one’s life, for small-town America.” Whatever it is, it’s one of my all-time favourites.

The Killer Inside Me (2010)

The most recent incarnation of the genre that I've seen, this film is brutal and misogynistic, yet somehow still enjoyable. Based on the 1952 pulp fiction novel by Jim Thompson, it suffers from a too-straight adaptation; sexually-deviant sheriff Lou Ford’s story is heavily reliant on a web of relationships too sprawling to fit into a movie. Casey Affleck is deliciously creepy as the twisted anti-hero, and all conventions of the small-town melodrama are present in the extreme, yet it’s still missing something. Director Michael Winterbottom, being British, was perhaps ill-prepared for this deeply American yarn (David Lynch, with his effortless undercurrent of weirdness, could have made it an instant classic). Nevertheless, there are more than enough good performances, cool cars and million-dollar music cues to make it worth watching.

Blue Velvet (1986)

David Lynch is the undisputed champion. The opening sequence of this movie alone sums it all up: to the sound of Bobby Vinton’s golden voice, azure skies and ruby roses gradually give way to an extreme close-up of larvae writhing disgustingly under the surface of an emerald lawn--the small town melodrama in a nutshell! By the way, this was the last film ever to be shot in glorious, three-strip Technicolor; if someday you get the chance to see it on 35mm, drop what you are doing and go. There is nothing like it.

If you're into the genre, here are few others that I love: Splendor in the Grass (1961), Hud (1963), In the Heat of the Night (1967). Watch for mini-reviews in my upcoming "summer viewing" post (if summer ever decides to stick around, that is).

Friday, May 13, 2011

dark night of the soul

"Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart
That fire t'was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come"

- St. John of the Cross, from Dark Night of the Soul 

The weather couldn't be more beautiful today, but the blue sky and bright sun couldn't clash more with the way I'm feeling. I am having an artist's dark night of the soul, or what I like to call a "why bother?" day.

A "why bother?" day goes like this. You get up, you go about your routine, everything is fine. Then you get to thinking. About your life, your career. You ask yourself, Am I wasting my time? You get stuck on that question and it plays in your head like a broken record. It saps your productivity, spoils your mood. Everything you've done seems worthless, you suddenly feel lost. In a previous post I made a list to remind myself of why I make films, but when I'm really in the doldrums, no rational argument will help.

I once heard a celebrated author say he wishes he hadn't spent the last 40 years of his life writing. What a crushing realization to come to in the sunset of an illustrious career! Think of all the people out there clamoring for the very life he regrets. The idea chills me.

Like mystics, artists too can have crises of faith. I think it comes from spending too much time in our heads, blindly chasing abstract concepts. These moments are just part of being an artist--they are the price we pay for the privilege of making art. I've found that there's no other remedy but to wait them out, and go outside for some fresh air and physical activity. I suppose maybe an ice cream wouldn't hurt, either. (What would St. John have said to that?)

Monday, May 9, 2011

women to watch


When I was in film school, I would have had trouble naming 10 women directors off the top of my head, let alone 10 contemporary ones whose work interested me. As far as I can remember, we only studied Leni Riefenstahl and Maya Deren in my Film History classes (which is pathetic, now that I think back on it).

I was too in love with cinema and distracted with learning to pay attention to the gap. I never felt under-represented in my film school, since there were just as many of us girls as guys. As a young woman filmmaker, I was never intimidated by "gear" and could detect no discrimination whatsoever from funding agencies because of my sex.

Then, when I was touring with my medium-length documentary, I experienced my first taste of ignorant dismissal (it was unintentional, but that is perhaps the most dangerous kind): a female journalist kept passing the mic to my producer/husband instead of me. Yes, he contributed much to the film and was entirely familiar with the material, but I got more and more frustrated as she repeatedly passed over me, the creator, in favor of the man standing next to me, simply because he was a man.

It wasn't the biggest slight in the world, but it certainly made me mad, and it made me understand why we have to pay attention to these things. Ignorance is bliss, and as long as we ignore a problem, it will never go away.

Directing fiction films is a true boys' club. We face the same issues as the women in other male-dominated fields: people are constantly testing us to make us prove our worth, we often have to choose between having kids and having a career, we are told we're "good for a woman", when we just want to be "good". In fact, I would rather just be called a "filmmaker" than a "woman filmmaker" since the latter smacks of a second class. (How often do you hear "She's a genius!" by the way? ...Exactly.)

Countries including Sweden and Spain have instituted quotas in their state funding agencies to help bolster the ranks of female filmmakers. I'm not really in favor of this approach because I think that proposals should be judged by their merit alone, and not by the gender of their creator. The best way to support women filmmakers is to make a point of watching their work; it will only succeed as long as audiences (both male and female) pay to see it.

Here are some women to watch:

Kelly Reichardt

I absolutely loved Wendy and Lucy and can't wait to see Meek's Cutoff, coming soon.

Sophia Coppola

Lost in Translation is a favourite of mine, and I'm very much looking forward to Somewhere, her latest.

Lynne Ramsay

Ratcatcher is a brilliant and haunting work from this UK director.

Debra Granik

Winter's Bone is one I keep harping on. Just go and see it already.

Courtney Hunt

...Same with Frozen River.

Kathryn Bigelow

She was the first woman ever to win the Oscar for Best Director, as well as buck the stereotype of women not being able to direct commercial action movies. I confess I haven't seen The Hurt Locker yet, but it's definitely on my list.

Jane Campion

...you must already know. Still haven't seen The Piano? Shame on you!

Deepa Mehta

Water is my favourite of all her films, but Heaven on Earth is good too. She gets extra points, having received death threats in her native India for broaching the controversial topic of widow's rights.

Jennifer Lynch

Following in daddy David's footsteps must be tough, but Jen's creepy detective thriller Surveillance stands on its own. Unfortunately, it is chronically overlooked and underrated.

Sarah Polley

She gets more than enough media attention here in Canada (token woman, anyone?) but Away From Her is solid. I'm not going to hold it against her that she was famous before she started directing.

Granaz Moussavi

This up-and-comer has the soul of a great artist. At a festival, I saw her recite a poem she wrote at age 19 in three different languages (she translated on the spot). Her debut, My Tehran for Sale, knocks it out of the park.

Sophie Deraspe

I briefly mentioned her film Signes vitaux (Vital Signs) in my post about this year's Rendez-vous du cinéma québécois. It was such a powerful and visionary piece that I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

There! 12 women directors off the top of my head, and not a single romantic comedy. Things must be looking up.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

don't quit your day job

I read this article in this morning's Globe. It saddens me to hear that documentary funds are drying up and opportunities for distributing them are becoming fewer and fewer, while the number of filmmakers is rapidly increasing.

I love docs, have made some before, and hope to make more in the future. I sympathize with the people in the article who need to have day jobs in order to keep making their films. But for me, this idea is nothing new. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that I will always have to work to pay the bills, and make films on the side.

Until box office sales pay our salaries or internet distribution becomes financially viable, Canadian filmmakers will always have to sacrifice their personal finances in order to keep going. But there is an up side to this equation. Having to fight tooth and nail for their work means that they must care deeply about it. Hopefully, with so much of themselves invested, the outcome will be better quality films.

The landscape has changed; today, legions of people with DSLR cameras or videos on YouTube are calling themselves filmmakers and flooding the festivals with content. The sheer number of films (especially documentaries) is impossible for the industry to support. The "accessibility" of filmmaking, which has enabled many of us to learn the craft in the first place, is the very thing that's preventing us from making a living by it. We have no choice but to keep our day jobs and make our films the best they can be--in our spare time, if necessary. 

On the up side, films like Up the Yangtze and The Last Train Home have shown that it is possible, with a great product (emphasis on great), for independent, one-off docs to make money in addition to being socially-relevant, cinematic works of art. There is always an appetite out there for good stories well told, but the filmmaker has to be willing to make sacrifices in order to get them out there.