Asian Films at Another Hole In the Head

Another Hole In the Head. Of all of Frisco Bay's film festivals SF Indie Fest's genre outpost certainly has the most eye-catching name. Taking over the Roxie for two weeks in June, it offers an assortment of selections tailored for horror, science fiction, fantasy and superhero buffs. Few of the films announced for this year's program have been 'done to death' on the festival circuit, and nearly all of them have never screened in Frisco before. It seems unlikely that many will screen again here anytime soon, so if this sounds like your thing, mark your calendars for June 5-21.

I'm not familiar with the line-up's English-language titles, most of which are US or UK productions (though Tunnel Rats, an Uwe Boll film co-produced in Canada and Germany, is programmed as "closing night" film June 19th). It's the Asian titles that are catching the lion's share of my interest. Always on the lookout for Thai films in Frisco cinemas, I'm hoping to catch Alone, made by the directing pair behind the original version of Shutter, Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom. Peter Nellhaus notes the film's many connections to horror films familiar in the West, but recommends it as a quality production that rises above the usual lazy pastiche.

Though Another Hole In the Head has and deserves a reputation as a "horror film festival", the three Japanese selections in this year's line-up exhibit more diversity than that label implies. One film, Exte: Hair Extensions looks to be a straight J-horror film with the requisite ghostly long-black-hair imagery, in this case starring Chiaki Kuriyama of Battle Royale and Kill Bill, vol. 1. Thanks to my friend Seiko for pointing out Chiaki's involvement in this creepy-looking film!

Yaji & Kija: the Midnight Pilgrims, on the other hand, looks about as far-removed from J-horror as possible; it's apparently a fantastical twist on the samurai film genre that comes recommended by none other than Filmbrain. It's also notable as one of only two films explicitly mentioned in the Another Hole In the Head program guide as being shown in 35mm prints (the other being the 40th anniversary screenings of Barbarella just before midnight on the first two Saturdays of the festival).

The Another Hole In the Head programmers know that many of the most outré genre film offerings come from the rough and tumble world of digital filmmaking and distribution. The third Japanese festival offering the Machine Girl, which I viewed after the festival's press conference, typifies this. The film industry is unlikely to take a chance on using the expensive film medium to make and distribute something as bizarre, bloody, cheesily-acted and un-scary as the Machine Girl. Less a horror film than a blood-and-gore-saturated revenge comedy, the film has assets in its unflagging energy and its surfeit of money shots for gorehounds (including one shot that made the film a must-program for a festival called Another Hole in the Head.) But its greatest asset is surely its refusal to take itself seriously at all, a quality I suspect is a function of the cheap video technology being used.

Michael Guillén captures the Machine Girl's tone perfectly in his overview of Twitch's coverage of the film. I'd like to add my admiration for the brazenly illogical plot structure, in which an action-packed opening-credits sequence that I didn't think could possibly be lived up to (how wrong I would be) flashes back to Machine Girl's origin before she's sent on a "kill the foozle" revenge quest. I wasn't the only one in the audience to realize that writer-director Noboru Iguchi had made a film with two climaxes: one to grab your attention at the beginning, and a different one to send you out satisfied. Does it matter if the two sequences fail to reconcile in the film's narrative timeline? I'm not sure it does.

Easter Morning

My second dispatch to GreenCine from the San Francisco International Film Festival (which wrapped on Thursday) can be found here. It's about perhaps my very favorite film of the festival, Bruce Conner's 10-minute Easter Morning. Unlike Conner's most famous pieces like A Movie and Crossroads, the images in this film were shot entirely by Conner himself.

An excerpt from my GreenCine piece:

At some point near the halfway mark in the film, a bridge from the world of nature to that of the man-made is gently placed down, in the form of several shots of a floral-print carpet that leads to images of a loft - wooden floors and furniture, and a giant stone cross seen through the panes of the room's large windows. A nude woman emerges from a glass cabinet, as if reborn into a world of light.

Take the 5:10 to Meme-land

I've been tagged with a meme. Thom Ryan, the mastermind behind one of my very favorite blogs Film of the Year, has selected me, along with four other bloggers (a distinguished group, I might add), to follow some simple instructions for a post on my site, and to pass on the instructions to five more bloggers. Like a chain letter, except without the curse of bad luck at the end if the recipient doesn't participate.

I've been tagged with memes before, and though I've always felt honored to be thought of, I've also felt enough resistance to the idea that I've never complied. This time, I'm in the mood to do so, for several reasons. One, I've lately been more inclined to embrace the myspace-y, facebook-y aspects of the blogosphere rather than pretend that what I do here at Hell on Frisco Bay is so fundamentally different from the activity on those and other social networking sites. Two, with my blogroll currently missing from this blog while I complete my redesigned reconstruction, I'm more compelled than usual to give shout-outs to some of my fellow travelers (though I'm happy to report that my archive, and blogroll, has been recovered by blogger and can be found here until I complete the transition back to this url.) Three, this particular meme gives me an opportunity to point to a book I've been meaning to mention here since I bought it and started paging through it a couple months ago.

That's right, this is a book meme. Here's the instructions Thom sent:

1) Pick up the nearest book.
2) Open to page 123.
3) Locate the fifth sentence.
4) Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing...
5) Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

OK, Thom!

1) So, when I received this tag, I was mere feet away from Scott MacDonald's Canyon Cinema: the Life and Times of an Independent Film Distributor, filled with primary source material concerning the venerable Frisco Bay institution that grew out of Bruce Baillie's film exhibitions in Canyon, California by Redwood Regional Park.

2) I can't resist giving a little bit more context. The opposing page 122, it so happens, reprints a fan letter to Canyon Cinema filmmaker Bruce Conner (and a current research subject, the reason why this book was so close at hand this afternoon) from none other than John Lennon, in response to Conner's dazzling Looking For Mushrooms. As he explains in an interview later in the book, Conner sent the film to Lennon because it included a Beatles song as its soundtrack, and he wanted the composers' blessing so he could legally show the film.

3) It's page 123 that we're concerned with at the moment, however, and it's got a letter from a Frisco Bay filmmaker I'm less familiar with (having seen only one of his works, Six Loop-Paintings), Barry Spinello. He's writing about how his 1969 film Soundtrack was influenced by a 1938 John Cage text found in Silence.

4) The three sentences:

Any image (his example is a picture of Beethoven) or mark on the soundtrack successively repeated will produce a distinct sound with distinct pitch and value - different from the sound and value of any other mark. The new music, he says, will be built along the lines of film, with the basic unit of rhythm logically being the frame. With the advent of magnetic tape a few years later and the enormous advantages it has in convenience and speed (capacity to record and play back live sound, and erase) the filmic development of electronic music initially envisioned by Cage was completely obscured.

5) Now, to select the five bloggers I'm to pass this meme to. I'm going to stay local here...
Max Goldberg of Text of Light comes to mind because he wrote a terrific review of the MacDonald book a few weeks ago.
Michael Guillén of the Evening Class comes to mind next, as he's the one who let me know about Max's blog.
Sister Rye comes to mind because I wish she would post a little more often.
Ryland Walker Knight of Vinyl Is Heavy comes to mind because I owe him an e-mail right now.
Rob Davis of Errata comes to mind because he's only going to be local for another week or so. Frisco Bay's loss is Chicago's windfall.

Thanks again, Thom!

51st SFIFF Awards Announced

I didn't make it to the SFIFF awards night last night. As usual there was a film that took priority. This year it was Eric Rohmer's delightful, bucolic the Romance of Astrea and Celadon, very much a product of its director despite its fifth-century setting. Rohmer's Catholic worldview comes through in the oddest of places- I never supposed I'd ever see a film with a monotheistic druid in it.

Susan Gerhard has wrapped up the award-winners nicely though. Glad to see Ballast awarded the FIPRESCI critics' prize; I interviewed director Lance Hammer yesterday afternoon, and his film deserves all the attention it can get. I also liked that Aditya Assarat was mentioned by the New Directors Competition jury for Wonderful Town- by no means a masterpiece but a very promising first feature with a strong sense of place.

Though I didn't see all of the films they were up against in their Golden Gate Award categories, I can also heartily applaud Madame Tutli-Putli's capturing of the Animated Short prize, and Writing History With Lightning: the Triumph and Tragedy of America's First Blockbuster in the Youth Works category. The latter film is, as its title implies, a 10-minute historical documentary on the social impact of D.W. Griffith's a Birth of a Nation. I wonder if its director Charlotte Burger might have a future as a Kevin-Brownlow-in-the-making?

I did see all of the films vying for the New Visions Golden Gate Award, and though I was pulling for the formalistic brilliance of Jeanne Liotta's Observando El Cielo or Leighton Pierce's Number One or Thorsten Fleisch's Energy!, I see the jury preferred to award the work which had the most visible human presence on the camera (and not just behind it), Tod Herman's Cabinet. Cabinet also won the Golden Gate Award for Bay Area-made short, with Adam Kekar's paranoia-inducing On the Assassination of the President in second place.

Audience Awards are usually announced at the closing night screening at the Castro. Which I'll also be missing- Bela Tarr's the Man From London takes priority in this instance!

Sean McCourt on Black Francis and The Golem

The San Francisco International Film Festival is chugging along, and will wrap up its festivities on Thursday night with a Vanity Fair-sponsored charity screening of Gonzo: the Life and Work of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson at the Castro Theatre (before that venue embarks on its post-SFIFF schedule with a week-long engagement of Godard's Contempt). I've been averaging about a film a day, and of those films that still have screenings before the festival's end, I can recommend the Secret of the Grain, Ballast and My Winnipeg the most highly.

I'm excited to present a piece on a recent festival event by fellow film junkie Sean McCourt, who has written for the Guardian and elsewhere. Now he lends his skillful observations to Hell On Frisco Bay. Take it away, Sean:

* * * * *
Beginning with his stint as the principal songwriter and leader of seminal alternative rock band the Pixies, Black Francis (nee Charles Thompson, a.k.a. Frank Black) has made a career of defying the norm, of charting his own course, and of branching out and trying new things, be it with his Pixies band mates, or during his eclectically varied solo releases—so it was not surprising when the announcement was made that he would be taking part in this year’s San Francisco International Film Festival, performing his new original soundtrack for the classic silent film The Golem.

A line wrapped around the block at the Castro Theatre on April 25th as fans anxiously awaited the live premiere of the new score for the 1920 film that tells the tale of a Rabbi that creates a creature out of clay and uses supernatural powers to bring it to life. Much of the audience was composed of, as one would surmise, Generation Xers and younger fans of Francis' work. There was, however, a healthy sampling of older people who came to check out the event as well. In any case, it was a full house at the theater, with festival staff getting on a microphone shortly before start time and asking to see if there were any empty seats so that some of the many people still standing outside hoping to get in could be accommodated.

The handpicked group of musicians that Francis selected to work with him for the project was composed of Eric Drew Feldman on keyboards, Joseph Pope on bass, Ralph Carney on horns, Duane Jarvis on guitar, and Jason Carter behind the drum kit. Feldman, Jarvis and Carter have all worked with Francis in the past in different capacities, while the rest of the group has performed with artists such as Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, the B-52s and Angst. Francis and his band, who were already seated and warming up when they were introduced, were positioned on the floor in front of the stage, much like an orchestra at an opera or traditional stage production. Once the lights went down and the film started, the band launched into their material with a quick count-off from Francis, and immediately propelled the audience into the ethereal world of The Golem.

The collection of songs that Francis wrote for the score weaved lyrics that were sometimes based on the proceedings seen on screen (such as when he sang “You be the master/I’ll be the servant” as the Golem followed the Rabbi to the Emperor’s palace), while at other times seeming like he was trying to capture a feeling or emotion instead of telling a straight ahead narrative based on the events in the film. Francis incorporated the loud/quiet/loud dynamic that he has become known for over the past 20 years into the soundtrack, but not as heavily as he once did with the Pixies—the caterwauling noise and guttural screams from the Surfer Rosa era were mostly absent, and he concentrated more on sweet melodies and including some tasty horn licks from Carney into the mix. It's not the first time that Francis has based his songwriting on early films—the Pixies' hit song Debaser (“Got me a movie / I want you to know / Slicing up eyeballs / ha ha ha ho”) was of course written about Luis Buñuel's 1929 surrealist picture Un Chien Andalou, and the Pixies also covered the tune “In Heaven” from David Lynch’s cult favorite Eraserhead.

Since the Golem's soundtrack was written as a collection of songs, as opposed to a consistent background score,there were pauses in between scenes which led to some awkward silences—and opened the door for what was the one big drawback to the evening—the annoying interruptions of "Master of Ceremonies" Roy Zimmerman, who would occasionally interject with what he apparently thought were funny little quips and observations, but they only distracted from the dream-like state that the music and film created together. Pointless cracks about scenes being available on You Tube and comparing the Golem's hairstyle to that of "Diane Feinstein, circa 1986" drew a few chuckles from the audience, but in the grand scheme of things, Zimmerman's microphone should have been cut off—his participation detracted from what was otherwise a largely successful blending of modern music and vintage film.

For those in the audience who had only seen The Golem on home video before, watching it on the grand screen at the Castro was indeed a special treat, not only for the size factor, but also because of the beautiful print that was secured for the occasion. Directed by Carl Boese and Paul Wegener (who also portrayed the Golem), the 1920 film was photographed by Karl Freund, known for his work on Fritz Lang's Metropolis and F.W. Murnau's The Last Laugh. The filmmakers blended classic elements of German Expressionism such as strong symbolism and manipulation of light and shadows, and took advantage of sets, designed by Hans Poelzig, that played with the bizarre architecture of the fictional ghetto. All of which was wonderfully complimented by the new music.

All in all, the evening appeared to be a rousing success, the marriage of Francis’ score with the imagery of the film drew an enthusiastic round of applause from the audience at the conclusion of the screening. There is talk of the soundtrack possibly getting a future release, either with the film on DVD, or as a stand-alone album, both of which would be most welcome—though hopefully Roy Zimmerman won’t be allowed to add any sort of commentary track. Perhaps Asteroth can be summoned once again to take care of him.

--Sean McCourt

Marina Theatre

Yesterday was a day for watching superhero films. I went to the 7PM showing of Iron Man at the newly reopened Marina Theatre on Chestnut Street, and then to the 11PM showing of Big Man Japan as part of the San Francisco International Film Festival. It's hard to picture two films tackling the subject of male power fantasy from more completely different angles. I enjoyed watching both and plan to write on them as soon as I have a chance.

But first, a few words on the Marina Theatre, which was opened in 1928 and showed second-run films for thirty-odd years before changing its name to the Cinema 21 and showing first-run engagements. It closed in 2001; the last film I saw there was Shadow of a Vampire and already I'd forgotten what the interior looked like until I peeked at this site. The new version of the Marina Theatre was designed to accommodate the Wallgreens pharmacy that has moved into a large portion of the ground floor. As the smaller of the two screens, both upstairs, is not quite ready for the public, Iron Man is only being shown in the larger, 250-seat theatre. It's probably now the "nicest" of the Lee Neighborhood Theatre screens, not quite as large as that of the Presidio's main house but in a symmetrical room that feels like it was built for showing movies.

Except for one drawback: the screen is a little low, and there's no way for people sitting on the left side of the theatre to exit without crossing in front of it. Which means that shadows of the heads tall people on a restroom run disturb the goal of immaculate projection. Also, for some reason all the house lights went up during the end credits. I know we don't want people tripping over each other as they head for the exits, but might it be possible to find an alternative solution? I like supporting a neighborhood theatre and not a downtown megaplex on the occasions when I want to see a screen-saturated Hollywood movie, but I'm not too crazy about having to strain to read the names of the people who worked on the film (a number of them Frisco Bay residents, as ILM worked on the Iron Man effects). After a while I got sick of it, and left like everybody else, thus missing a Samuel L. Jackson cameo I didn't realize was going to happen.

Iron Man is also playing at another Frisco neighborhood theatre, the Balboa, where tomorrow there will be prizes for people dressed up as their favorite Marvel villain. If only I had time to make that Taskmaster outfit I'd always dreamed of putting together when i was a kid...

Linking Feller: April

The San Francisco International Film Festival is going strong at the halfway point, and has sparked some terrific pieces online.

Michael Guillén of The Evening Class has a transcript of Catherine Breillat's remarks on opening night film the Last Mistress, which she directed.

The sf360 website, funded in part by the San Francisco Film Society which runs the festival, has an extended version of the interview Medicine For Melancholy director Barry Jenkins gave to Michael Fox, that was printed in last week's SF Weekly. Yeah, it's a real love-in here, when a blogger links to an interview with a director of a digital movie playing a festival that helps pay the journalist interviewing the director, who praises the blogger. But appearances of scratch-my-back aside, Medicine For Melancholy is a terrific and important piece of work. If you don't trust me, ask the people who saw it at SXSW. Lincoln Specter of Bayflicks has a rare dissenting view.

Jeffrey Anderson is filing daily reports to the Bay Guardian's Pixel Vision blog, and Jason Weiner is doing the same on his own site.

I don't mean to bury the lead, but check out this incredibly thoughtful conversation between Ryland Walker Knight, Kevin Lee and Jennifer Stewart inspired by the festival event awarding film critic J. Hoberman its Mel Novikoff prize and screening In the City of Sylvia. These folks are so smart I'm a little intimidated to join the discussion. I'm happy just to read it.

Moving away from the film festival, a couple weeks ago Kevin Lee got Paolo Cherchi Usai to talk about Frank Borzage's masterpiece Seventh Heaven over clips of the film, and it's a must-watch.

And finally, on to a couple other Frisco Bay film festivals on the horizon. Another Hole in the Head (June 5-22) has announced its full line-up. And Frameline (June 19-29) has announced a few titles and is beginning to sell tickets and passes.