Wednesday, March 05, 2025

TREEFORT 2025—RAÍCES: The Evening Class Interview With Miguel Almeida

Miguel Almeida is an illustrator / muralist based in Boise, Idaho. He works both digitally and traditionally to create colorful illustrations. His personal work is largely inspired by his Mexican roots. He combines colors inspired by Mexican folk art and heavy line work to create a modern graphic style. Almeida has worked with numerous clients from City of Boise, Idaho State Museum, Chocolate Skateboards, Calexico, Push & Pour, Google/DLR Group and many more. I’m grateful for his taking time from his busy ramp-up to Treefort to answer some questions.

* * *  

Michael Guillén: I’ve studied Precolumbian iconography for decades, and have watched the welcome and creative appropriations of Teotihuacan, Toltec, Olmec, Aztec and Mayan motifs by Chicano/a/x and Latino/a/x artists, primarily in California in the Bay Area through exhibition spaces like the Mission Cultural Center and Galería de la Raza. My own art collection revolves around Mayan themes, drawing from the work of Patssi Valdez, Juana Alicia, Calixto Robles, Mario Romero, Tony DeCarlo, and several others. When I relocated to Boise, Idaho, I was delighted to discover your community work, along with Bobby Gaytan’s. I’ve been fortunate to acquire one of Bobby’s paintings but have yet to secure one of yours. Let me articulate why it is that I want to eventually include you in my collection. 

I see in your artwork a similar practice of claiming and incorporating our cultural legacies; but, what I find singularly unique in your expression is your palette. Whereas most of the artists I know have gone the way of bright, primary colors, you have chosen instead a range of specifically-hued pinks, yellows and blues. Can you speak to me of how you have incorporated Precolumian imagery into your work and how you have melded it with contemporary formats (i.e., skateboards, stickers), and why you have chosen your particular palette to do so? 

Miguel Almeida: My color palette is largely inspired by the pueblos in Mexico. My grandparents lived out there in Zacatecas, so I spent a lot of summers visiting them and seeing all the art in Mexico. A lot of those pinks, teals, yellows are inspired by the building colors out there. Here in the USA everything is just a boring grey, black, white or brick. I love that out in Mexico it is very colorful and I feel like color is a big part of the culture. 

As far as incorporating Precolumbian imagery, I do draw inspiration from it and do my best to honor it in a way that feels right to me. Like a large majority of Mexicans, I am Native American mixed with some Spanish but due to colonization I don’t really know what specific indigenous culture my ancestors were a part of. I have some ideas through family research but nothing 100% certain. I don’t want to step on anyone's toes, but I try to do my best to honor my Native American roots through my art. To me it feels like an act of resisting colonization and reclaiming something my ancestors were killed or punished for.  

Guillén: You describe your work as having a “heavy line work technique” and I’m slightly embarrassed to say I don’t know what you mean by that. Could you explain? 

Almeida: I use the term “heavy line work” to describe my art because there is a lot of line work involved. I don’t paint shadows or light in my work but often use lines to create the effect of a shadow or to define an object. It’s more of a graphic style similar to the result of a linocut work.  

Guillén: In an admirable “danger, Will Robinson” move, you landed on robots for your design of beer cans for local brewery Lost Grove. Lost Grove is also one of the participating sites of Treefort’s “Back Rooms” Artfort initiative. Speak to me about your commercial interaction with Lost Grove, how you decided on robots for the campaign, and how you’ll be representing at Treefort. Will you be participating in the “Back Rooms” program? Will you be painting a window or mural during the festival? 


Almeida: The Lost Grove Robot beer collaboration was a fun one. I grew up being a big fan of Mega Man and Gundam anime so getting to design robots was something new but something the kid me would have loved. I was working with Lost Grove on launching their Artist Residency project that involved designing labels for their more specialty barrel aged beer and they wanted me to design some of their Hazy IPA beer line. I had a lot of fun doing it. It’s always nice to be able to tap into the kid in me and create something for fun but still make it feel like my art. 

I’ll be doing a couple things at Treefort this year. I’m helping organize an art show with Marianna Edwards, Maria Ayala and Tropico FM at the Basque Center. The show is called “Coatl: Ten Perspectives” and I recommend coming to check it out; it should be really cool. It’s all Latino/a/x artists and we’ve got some heavy hitters in our community with some younger artists too. Tropico FM does a great job to make sure we have a space to be represented and usually we have Musicians from Latino America performing. 

 I’ll also be painting a live mural at the main stage Wednesday—Sunday. There are a few of us from the “Coatl” show that will be painting a mural live. Shoutout to Sector Seventeen for making it happen. It’ll be a good time hanging out with all the artists and painting. Aside from those two events that I’m doing, hopefully I’ll be able to catch some shows and enjoy being outside.  

Guillén: In a distinct Wassup Rockers vibe, you’ve elevated patinetas to subcultural prominence. I know you’ve been a skateboarder for a couple of decades and so it seems a given that you would want to take your work to the street not only through your murals but through your sidewalk traffic. We have a major skate park in downtown Boise. Has Treefort created any kind of event there that you have participated in? 


Almeida: Treefort puts on Skatefort with Boise Skateboard Association and Prestige Skateshop. In the past I have donated some apparel / stickers from my Brand Raíces to give away for kids who land tricks. It’s super cool and always fun to be there skating with everyone.  

Guillén: Talk to me about the relevance of public art and representing and providing presence to Chicano identity in our community. I should qualify that question. I grew up in California, so I identify as Chicano; but, I have friends who don’t feel comfortable with that term and go by Tejano. I’m not sure what the appropriate appellation would be here in the Treasure Valley. Mexicano? How do you identify? 

Almeida: I use both Mexican and Chicano but I identify more as Mexican. As a first generation Mexican American that grew up in Idaho, to me Mexican represents me and my history more. I grew up in a very traditional Mexican family. If we were in the 70’s, though, I’d identify more with Chicano for sure. I’m all about fighting for our people and challenging oppressive systems set in place to harm us.  

Guillén: Back to the relevance of public art, can you speak to what it means for you? 

Almeida: Public art to me is a very special opportunity that many Mexican / Chicano artists in Boise don’t always get. I never take the opportunity lightly so I always try to create something that represents me, my family, and my community because it's rare to see our stories being told and celebrated in public spaces. I grew up in Marsing / Caldwell, Idaho, so growing up I never saw art in public that reflected me or my family. I love that public art is accessible to everyone. I always think about my parents and tíos who have probably never gone to an art gallery and how they can experience art in public. I love seeing my community's reaction to seeing familiar stories, objects and our community being celebrated. I hope kids who grew up like me can get inspired by it and dream of being an artist. That is something I didn't have growing up but hope the future generations have.  

Guillén: I’m aware that you have done great work in Garden City and I’m wondering if you can contextualize your efforts there? With Treefort's offshoot Flipside being venued in Garden City, have they assisted your initiatives? I want to emphasize my admiration and respect for the political aesthetic that runs through your public art, not only in minority representation, but also in causes you believe in (such as climate change). I’m further aware that you were the first artist chosen for the Garden City Climate Action Artwalk sponsored by Conservation Voters For Idaho and that you’ve collaborated with the Garden City Placemaking Fund, which I first heard about through a public lecture sponsored by Flipside. Can you speak to where the Garden City initiatives are at this point, if anything is coming up? 

Almeida: The murals that I did in Garden City were the first two murals I ever did. Big shout out to The Garden City Placemaking fund for their trust and opportunity to help kick off their project along with Ashley Dreyfus, Julia Green and James W.A.R. Lloyd. One of the murals was tied to a climate change project so I decided to create something that said the message in Spanish versus English. I felt it was important to include folks like my parents in the conversation who speak Spanish and very little English. The second one I did on the wall of Visionkit was based around farmworking. Chinden being a busy road, I thought it’d be a good place to create something that honored farmworkers and a reminder to folks where their food comes from. 

I haven’t had any involvement with Flipside Fest. I think they might have used the mural in a video, but that might be all my involvement. [Laughs.] 

To be honest, I’m not too sure on the situation of the Garden City Placemaking Fund. I know it is still around and helping folks with first-time mural opportunities. I think without funding it’s really hard for it to grow as fast as they’d hoped. I’m glad it is still around though and hoping one day they get the funding for future public art opportunities. It's a really cool organization and I owe alot to them for giving me my first mural opportunity. Mural work for me really blew up after those first two murals. That’s their mission: helping artists get mural experience and being a resource with a large pool of experienced artists / muralists.  

Guillén: Will you be speaking during Treefort in conjunction with National Farmworker Awareness Week (particularly in response to Trump's disrespect of the contributions of farmworkers to the well-being of the American economy)? 

Almeida: As for the talk with National Farmworker Awareness Week, I won’t be a speaker on that panel. I’m sure the mural I paint will, for sure, be a response to all the disrespect and hate we are enduring.  

Guillén: Finally, I’m always interested to hear where musical interests lie. Is there anyone you’re excited to hear at Treefort this year? 

Almeida: To be honest, I haven’t seen many bands on the line up that I recognize. I might have to take a deeper look. So far the only ones I can think of are Ramona and LA LOM, who I haven’t seen before.

  

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, March 04, 2025

REVIEW: EXTRACTED (2025)—Episode 1: “Survive the Night”

Photo courtesy of Entertainment Weekly
I’m not really a reality T.V. enthusiast, but have to admit that one of my guilty viewing pleasures has been watching the American version of Big Brother, which kicked off in 2000. Unbelievably, I’ve been watching Big Brother for 25 years. In its 26th season I was intrigued by Boise resident Cedric Hodges being one of the contestants. Hodges, a former Marine, lasted for 31 days in the Big Brother house. I was rooting for him because I thought he was a genuinely nice guy; but, it was that quality of kindness that undid him when he volunteered to put himself up as a pawn and was, consequently, evicted. I often wondered if I would ever run into him out and about in Boise, Idaho. 

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I went in for my annual eye exam at Boise Vision Care. There were all sorts of balloons in the reception area. I asked what was the cause for celebration? The receptionist advised that my optometrist, Justin Denison, had been chosen to be a contestant on a new reality show called Extracted, which had just premiered on Fox. “But don’t ask him about it,” she said, “because he doesn’t like to talk about it.” 

“But I’m a film writer,” I protested, and—of course—it was the first thing I brought up in conversation. He had been forewarned of my interest and gamely fielded questions about his participation in the show. I decided then and there that Extracted would be the first televised reality show that I would monitor through The Evening Class

For starters, Dr. Denison was born and raised in Boise. He graduated from Centennial High School and attended Boise State before receiving his Bachelor’s Degree in Exercise Science from Brigham Young University. He then went on to receive his Doctor of Optometry Degree from Midwestern University in Glendale, Arizona. He joined Boise Vision Care in 2013. He is a member of the American Optometric Association and Idaho Optometric Association. Not intending to demean his professional credentials in any way, I’ll refer to him as Justin for convenience sake. 

With Sylvester Stallone among the producers of Extracted, the series premiered on the Fox network on February 10, 2025, with new episodes airing each Tuesday. Episodes are also available on the series website (though bogged down with commercials). The premise of Extracted is unique and intriguing. Twelve teams composed of one amateur survivalist ("Competitor") and two friends or family members ("Companions") are sent into a forested area in British Columbia, Canada. The Competitors are each isolated in the wilderness and must do whatever they can (such as finding food and building shelter) to sustain themselves while their actions are monitored by cameras throughout the area. The Companions are together in a nearby compound in a studio where they can watch and listen to all the Competitors. At set intervals throughout the competition the Companions have the opportunity to aid their teammates by selecting items for survival packages (e.g.: tools, bedding, food and other consumables) that are delivered to the Competitors via drone, helicopter, or boat. 

The Competitors are informed that they will have no control on when their participation in the competition ends. The Competitors can only be removed from the wilderness by their Companions, who may press a red "extract" button in the studio to initiate their Competitor's evacuation. Doing so eliminates the entire team from contention. The last team remaining will win a grand prize of $250,000. 

Of course, he’s probably under a legally-binding document not to reveal the series’ outcome, but my one-dollar bet is on Team Denison. Justin’s brother Jake—a mortgage loan officer in Meridian, Idaho—is the Competitor, while he and his other brother Austin are the Companions participating from “Headquarters” (“HQ”). I immediately came home from my eye exam and—even though my eyes were still dilated—couldn’t resist watching the first two episodes of Extracted. The fourth episode just aired today and so—before we get too much further into the season—I’m starting in with, not so much a review, but sheer vicarious participation. As there are so many individuals involved, my focus will be—of course—on Team Denison in each episode. 

Season 1, Episode 1: “Survive the Night” 

The stage is set. Within an extraordinary, timeless and dangerous mountain wilderness, 80 robotic surveillance cameras are watching and listening to twelve competitors dropped into this challenging environment with nothing more than the clothes on their back and selfie camera equipment. This is one of the elements that Justin did mention to me in his recollection of the experience: the daunting edits of so much footage masterfully reduced to what would provide the most intense and exciting narrative traction. Miles away in a high-tech headquarters, the camera feeds can be seen and heard by the competitors’ companions. “Don’t let me die,” Jake shouts out to his brothers as the helicopter arrives to lift him into the wilderness. Austin boasts that Jake is their team survivalist because he’s confident that Jake “doesn’t have any quit in him.” 

As the amateur survivalists are dropped into a survival zone around a lake fringed by forested mountains, back at HQ family members are advised that in order for them to secure resources for their loved ones through supply drops, they must compete for limited supplies with the other families, or the contestants must compete for them through survival trials. 

Finding a campsite and setting up shelter is the first objective of the competitors so that they can withstand their first night. Jake is shown hoisting “bad boy” logs onto his shoulder either to get them out of the way or to use them to construct a shelter. He quips that he’s waiting for a bear to jump out and snatch his arm. 

The following morning as the first supply drop is announced, the families have a minute to enter the supply room to fill a box and seal it before their time is up. Austin predicts that there might be potential animosity if it’s revealed that one family takes more than their share and Justin concurs that they’ll be fine as long as those before them don’t wipe things out. Irritation arises when Team Jakoben takes two knives, leaving one family without. This is the first indication of the sharpness of the competitive edge within HQ. 

But more disturbing is the lack of gratitude on the part of Anthony towards his parents, who filled his supply box with everything he would need to do well in the outdoors. Allegedly a model, Anthony quickly becomes a model of an immature, spoiled and ill-behaved young man, whining about his advantages. This is when the series deepens to being more than just a survival reality series and becomes an interesting study of family dynamics. As someone who is fond of dystopian narratives where social alliances determine survival, Extracted presents the family unit as the first litmus test of cooperation and solidarity. Anthony’s ungrateful behavior embarrasses his mother and father, particularly his father who blames himself for his son’s lack of maturity. He had hoped that the experience would have toughened him up and it is uncomfortable to watch Anthony give up so readily and not be the man that his father wants him to be. He begins to come unglued and disrespectfully demands extraction. “This is not a request,” he asserts. Shaking his head, Austin characterizes Anthony as “an 18-year-old kid who’s unhappy.” 

The expectations that family members have on the survivalists also speaks to failures of trust. Making fire becomes a fulcrum of judgment. Jake conquers the challenge swiftly, but others struggle with flint and firedrills, unable to get a fire going, and this frustrates and worries impatient family members. Tensions begin to escalate…. 

…and I’m hooked.

Saturday, March 01, 2025

REVIEW—LIZA: A TRULY TERRIFIC ABSOLUTELY TRUE STORY (2024)

"I am a part of all that I have met," poet Alfred Tennyson wrote In “Ulysses”, a poem in blank verse that served as a dramatic monologue detailing the Greek hero's travels, encounters, and escapades, through which Ulysses was exposed to many different types of people and ways of living. By having Ulysses say this, Tennyson offered his view that humans are shaped by a combination of all life's experiences. 

It could easily be something Liza Minnelli would say. The philosophy that a person is shaped by others in their life is the documentary structure of Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story (2024), written and directed by Bruce David Klein. Liza’s influences were iconic and celebrated, beginning with her parentage (Judy Garland, her mother; Vincent Minnelli, her father) and continuing on through a family of friends and mentors into the ‘70s when all she became influenced her fans to become themselves. 

I’m the first to admit that you either love Liza Minnelli or you don’t; you’re a fan or you’re not. I was 18 years old when Cabaret (1972) came to my local moviehouse in Twin Falls, Idaho. I was living in an upstairs apartment that I had painted bright yellow and gnashing at the bit to get out of Twin to go find my life somewhere else. Liza’s Oscar®-winning performance as Sally Bowles dazzled and motivated me. I saw Cabaret eight times in as many nights. It fueled my eventual release from Idaho and catapulted me into the urban lifestyle that characterized my adulthood. 

San Francisco became my home and it was there that I was fortunate enough to see Liza several times in concert, including the preview performance of “Shine It On” (eventually “The Act” on Broadway). Directed by Martin Scorsese with original music by John Kander and Fred Ebb, “Shine It On / The Act” suffered from a lousy script. The disappointment in the audience was palpable; the tepid applause painful. Then the curtain opened, Liza walked out, admitted to the play’s faults, and asked if she couldn’t compensate by singing for us. The crowd, as they say, went wild. Myself included. To be in the presence of such a consummate entertainer was rapturous. So, yes, you either love Liza Minnelli or you don’t; you’re either a fan or you’re not. I am unabashedly a loving fan. 

So I started with Cabaret, explored earlier projects (The Sterile Cuckoo, Tell Me You Love Me, Junie Moon), subsequent projects (Liza With A Z, New York, New York, Arthur, Stepping Out), and learned more about her life; all of which is affectionately surveyed in Klein’s filmic tribute. 

“Being Judy Garland’s daughter is not a lot of laughs,” Liza once stated. Contrary to the stereotypical presumption that all gay men were “friends of Dorothy”, I knew nothing of Judy Garland until many years later when I caught a telecast of A Star Is Born and connected the dots: not only why gay men iconicized Garland, but for me the more sobering insight that Liza’s protective relationship with her mother was much like my own. We both played the role of child-as-parent, suffering from the adage that childhood cannot wait for the parent to grow up. Escaping the weight of that loving duty, surviving her mother’s death, and negotiating an identity separate from Garland required that Liza embark on her own odyssey. 

Her father Vincent Minnelli helped in that regard. Vincent Minnelli instilled a sense of perfectionism in Liza. “Emphasize what you think is good,” he said, “what you don’t like, change it.” As she was preparing for the role of Sally Bowles, Minnelli introduced Liza to silent era icons Lya Diputti and Louise Brooks, which helped Liza create the look of Sally Bowles; a look which Liza adopted thereafter. 

Also helping in the creation of Sally Bowles, Christina Smith—a make-up artist who befriended Liza—took advantage of her large eyes and exaggerated her eyelashes. As her celebrity increased, Liza remained loyal to Smith, championed her work, and helped her become one of the first female make-up artists in Hollywood without union credentials. 

Kay Thompson took over when Garland died, becoming Liza’s mother surrogate and mentor. It was Kay who advised Liza not to go around with dull people or people she didn’t like. “Even if you’re curious,” Kay cautioned, “don’t do it.” Her full-blown personality—which Liza emulated—made Liza the superstar possible. 

French singer and songwriter Charles Aznavour was next. Aznavour changed Liza’s life by teaching her how to act out the emotion of a song. They were “more than friends, less than lovers.” He recognized that—like many young performers—Liza was imitating others and had not yet found her voice. He showed her how to incorporate the grittiness of life into her interpretation of a song, to make a song her own by singing it close to her heart, making it intimate and not needing to make every song a national anthem (as Frank Sinatra once complained to Mia Farrow, Liza’s friend since their teenage years). 

Despite Sinatra’s valid critique, I nonetheless have always enjoyed when an entertainer can belt out a song. Sometimes it’s essential to a song’s emotional authenticity; its drama. Not everyone agrees, I know, as I learned when I was at Tower Records in North Beach asking for what was then Liza’s latest album “At Carnegie Hall” (1987). The guy at the counter shouted out to a co-worker, “Hey, do we have the new album by the screaming lady?!!” 

Another quality Liza picked up from her father was an appreciation for choreography. She loved to dance and her association with choreographer Bob Fosse had a strong influence. Like her father, Fosse was a perfectionist, and precise. He brought discipline and focus to her dancing. 

But it was musical theater lyricist Fred Ebb who truly invented Liza. He was her big brother. According to Michael Feinstein—one of the documentary’s main talking heads—Liza was Fred Ebb’s alter-ego. As much as Kay Thompson instilled in Liza the very showmanship that she was unable to achieve for herself, Ebb wanted to be Liza. He channeled his talent through her’s. He began shaping her identity by steering her away from talking about her mother, explaining that the focus would shift to her. It was while Ebb and John Kander were writing the songs for “Flora the Red Menace” that they became godfathers to Liza’s career, recognizing that only she could play Flora, for which she earned a Tony Award for Best Actress in a musical. “She had the thing you can’t teach,” Kander opined, “even though she had a lot to learn.” 

With Bob Fosse, Fred Ebb produced the television concert Liza With A Z (1972). Fosse directed and choreographed the concert and Kander and Ebb wrote and arranged the music, including the titular tune that definitively set Liza’s identity in song and the clever “Ring Them Bells” (whose lyrics provided the title to Klein’s documentary). The television concert won Liza an Emmy and was likewise notable for her costumes, designed by Halston, to whom Liza had been introduced through Kay Thompson. She and Halston became intimate friends. It was Halston who gave Liza her signature red sequin look; a glittering compensation for her perspiring on stage. “Know yourself,” Halston encouraged socratically. “Know what suits your purposes.” Liza had the eye; she knew what looked good; but, Halston was the one that could make her look good. He designed for her body, which gave her confidence.

  

In my late twenties I had the good fortune of befriending Peter Allen when he began appearing in clubs in San Francisco. I didn’t know anything about his marriage to Liza Minnelli until years later; but, he referenced her in his song “Tenterfield Saddler” where he described himself as having been all around the world living in no special place but “marrying a girl with an interesting face.” Though Allen’s bisexuality dissolved their marriage, Mia Farrow commented that—of all of Liza’s husbands—she was happiest with him. Along with Feinstein, Farrow’s friendship with Liza contributes some of the film’s primary commentary. Other talking heads include Chita Rivera, George Hamilton, Ben Vereen, Joel Grey, Darren Criss, and her sister Lorna Luft. 

I could go on and on with anecdote after anecdote about Liza, but suffice it to say that Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story will satisfy and fill in the gaps. If each person’s life is an odyssey that exposes them to individuals who influence them, and aware that nowadays there are more stars than you can shake a stick at, when I was young during the incredibly formative 1970s, there were only a few true superstars, Liza being one of them. Her influence upon me has been indelible. I may not have met her in person but I have seen her in person. I’ve applauded at concerts and even applauded with a movie audience when she sang “And the World Goes ‘Round” when New York, New York screened in San Francisco. It was as if she was there, and we couldn’t help praising the woman on screen. Rumor has it that she was actually in the audience incognito, and delighted by our response. 

Curiously absent from the documentary is Liza’s association with the Pet Shop Boys for one of my favorite albums of hers: "Results" (1989). Later that year at the Grammys, she sang Stephen Sondheim’s “Losing My Mind” (which had been included on "Results") before receiving a Grammy Legend Award, thus making her one of only sixteen artists to receive a Tony, an Academy Award, an Emmy and a Grammy. 

Among the many cameos she made later in her career, my favorite was from the television series Smash when she sang “A Love Letter From the Times”. 

  

Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story runs through Friday, March 7, 2025 at the Roxie in San Francisco, California and the Smith Rafael Film Center in San Rafael, California. Unfortunately, as far as I’m aware, there are no scheduled screenings in Boise, Idaho. 

 

Sunday, February 23, 2025

TREEFORT INDEX


THE EVENING CLASS
: MUSIC
 

Treefort 2014—Bay Area > Boise  

Treefort 2014—Fave Picks

Treefort 2015—The Evening Class Interview With Sun Blood Stories 

Treefort 2015—Jumping the Shark / The Evening Class Interview With Alex Cameron & Roy Molloy

Treefort 2015—Bay to Boise & Back / A Fivepick  

Treefort 2016—The Evening Class Interview With Tisper (née Samwise Carlson)  

Treefort 2018—The Evening Class Interview With Field Medic (née Kevin Patrick Sullivan) 

Treefort 2018—Bay Area to Boise  

Treefort 2018—Bay Area to Boise / Madeline Kenney (Oakland)  

Treefort 2018—L.A. to Boise  

Treefort Music Fest 9 (2021)—The Evening Class Interview With Smokey Brights  

Treefort Music Fest 11 (2023)—Ten Bands To See  

THE EVENING CLASS: TREEFORT FILM FESTIVAL / FILMFORT  

TFF 2012—The Best of the Disposable Film Festival  

SVFF 2013 / Treefort 2013—Cinema Disruption (Online, In Cinema & Back Again) / The Evening Class Interview With A.J. Eaton, Daniel Ahearn and the Creative Team Behind the Road to Treefort Web Series  

TFF 2015—Lake Los Angeles (2014)  

TFF 2015—Local Gems  

TFF 2015—View From A Pedal Buggy (2015)  

TFF 2015—View From A Pedal Buggy (2015) / The Evening Class Interview With Zach Voss  

TFF 2015—Max Helms: Curse of the Relic (2015) / The Evening Class Interview With Hutt Wigley  

TFF 2016—Smoke (2016) / The Evening Class Interview With Amadeus Serafini & Joel Nagle  

TFF 2016—Smoke (2016) / The Evening Class Interview With Alan Heathcock  

TFF 2016—Carbon (2016) / The Evening Class Interview With Christian Lybrook  

THE EVENING CLASS: ARTFORT  

Treefort 11 (2023)—Window Walk / The Evening Class Profile of Walter Gerald  

YOUTUBE VIDEOS  

Filmfort 2014 / Opening Night: Grandma Kelsey  

Artfort 2014 / Boise Film Underground No. 1  

Artfort 2014 / Boise Film Underground No. 2  

Treefort 2014 / Ancient Psychic Tandem Warfare Elephant / Linen Building No. 1  

Treefort 2014 / Ancient Psychic Tandem Warfare Elephant / Linen Building No. 2  

Treefort 2014 / Ancient Psychic Tandem Warfare Elephant / Linen Building No. 3  

Treefort 2014 / Band Dialogue  

Treefort 2015 / Alex Cameron / Linen Building (03/28/15)  

Treefort 2015 / Tisper (w/ Lionsweb) / The Water Cooler (03/27/15)  

Treefort 2015 / Catskills / Linen Building (03/29/15) No. 1  

Treefort 2015 / Catskills / Linen Building (03/29/15) No. 2  

Treefort 2015 / Catskills / Linen Building (03/29/15) No. 3  

Artfort 2016 / Project Flux (03/27/16) No. 1  

Artfort 2016 / Project Flux (03/27/16) No. 2  

Treefort 2016 / Aaron Mark Brown / Linen Building (03/24/16)  

Treefort 2016 / Like A Villain / Boise Contemporary Theatre (03/25/16) No. 1  

Treefort 2016 / Like A Villain / Boise Contemporary Theatre (03/25/16) No. 2  

Treefort 2016 / Like A Villain / Boise Contemporary Theatre (03/25/16) No. 3  

Treefort 2016 / CJ Boyd / Boise Contemporary Theatre (03/26/16)  

Treefort 2016 / Tisper / El Korah Shrine (03/26/16) No. 1  

Treefort 2016 / Tisper / El Korah Shrine (03/26/16) No. 2  

Treefort 2018 / Karl Blau / Linen Building (03/24/18) No. 1  

Treefort 2018 / Karl Blau / Linen Building (03/24/18) No. 2  

Treefort 2018 / Karl Blau / Linen Building (03/24/18) No. 3  

Treefort 2018 / Karl Blau / Linen Building (03/24/18) No. 4  

Treefort 2018 / Karl Blau / Linen Building (03/24/18) No. 5  

Treefort 2018 / Field Medic / Linen Building (03/25/18) No. 1  

Treefort 2018 / Field Medic / Linen Building (03/25/18) No. 2  

Treefort 2018 / Field Medic / Linen Building (03/25/18) No. 3  

Treefort 2018 / Field Medic / Linen Building (03/25/18) No. 4  

Treefort 2018 / Field Medic / Linen Building (03/25/18) No. 5  

Artfort 2021 / Walking Through Fluttering Art  

Treefort 2021 / AKA Belle / Main Stage  

Treefort 2021 / Monophonics / Main Stage  

Treefort 2021 / McKenna Esteb / El Korah Shrine No. 1  

Treefort 2021 / McKenna Esteb / El Korah Shrine No. 2  

Treefort 2021 / McKenna Esteb / El Korah Shrine No. 3  

Treefort 2021 / Lake Street Dive / Main Stage No. 1  

Treefort 2021 / Lake Street Dive / Main Stage No. 2  

Treefort 2021 / Arooj Aftab / El Korah Shrine  

Treefort 2021 / Y La Bamba / Main Stage  

Treefort 2021 / Chong the Nomad / Main Stage  

Treefort 2021 / Wend / Main Stage (partial)  

Treefort 2021 / Daniel Kerr / Main Stage  

Treefort 2021 / Gregory Rawlins / Linen Building  

Treefort 2021 / Lalin St. Juste (The Seshen) / Main Stage  

Treefort 2022 / Ealdor Bealu / Sonic Temple Red  

Treefort 2022 / Angel Abaya / El Korah Shrine No. 1 (“Better”)  

Treefort 2022 / Angel Abaya / El Korah Shrine No. 2 (“The Bubble”)  

Treefort 2022 / McKenna Esteb / Linen Building No. 1 (Instrumental Intro)  

Treefort 2022 / McKenna Esteb / Linen Building No. 2 (“Crying At Anthony’s”)  

Treefort 2022 / McKenna Esteb / Linen Building No. 3 (“No Reservations”)  

Treefort 2022 / McKenna Esteb / Linen Building No. 4 (“My Heart”)  

Treefort 2022 / Dent May / Linen Building No. 1 (“Born Too Late”)  

Treefort 2022 / Dent May / Linen Building No. 2 (“I Didn’t Get the Invite”)  

Treefort 2022 / Ata Kak / Main Stage No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / Ata Kak / Main Stage No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Ata Kak / Main Stage No. 3  

Treefort 2022 / Dinner Time / Mad Swede Brew Hall  

Treefort 2022 / Tropa Magica /Hideout  

Treefort 2022 / Lung / Kin No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / Lung / Kin No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Lung / Kin No. 3  

Treefort 2022 / W.I.T.C.H. / Main Stage  

Treefort 2022 / Sun Atoms / Sonic Temple Red No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / Sun Atoms / Sonic Temple Red No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Sun Atoms / Kin No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / Sun Atoms / Kin No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Sun Atoms / Kin No. 3  

Treefort 2022 / Abigail Lapell / Treeline No. 1 (“I’ve Been Working On the Railroad”)  

Treefort 2022 / Abigail Lapell / Treeline No. 2 (“Jordan”)  

Treefort 2022 / Abigail Lapell / Treeline No. 3 (“German Song”)  

Treefort 2022 / Peliculas Geniales / Hideout No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / Peliculas Geniales / Hideout No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Zeta / Hideout  

Treefort 2022 / Thee Sacred Souls / Main Stage No. 1 (“Love Is the Way”)  

Treefort 2022 / Thee Sacred Souls / Main Stage No. 2  

Treefort 2022 / Thee Sacred Souls / Main Stage No. 3 (“Will I See You Again?”)  

Treefort 2022 / New Candys / Hideout No. 1  

Treefort 2022 / New Candys / Hideout No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / ModernLove / Boise Brewing No. 1 (“Until My Heart Stops Beating”)  

Treefort 2023 / ModernLove / Boise Brewing No. 2 (“Ruin Your Night”)  

Treefort 2023 / Gipsy Moonrise / Boise Brewing (“Understand”)  

Treefort 2023 / Illuminati Hotties / Main Stage  

Treefort 2023 / Ryan Curtis / Boise Brewing  

Treefort 2023 / King Youngblood / Cyclops  

Treefort 2023 / Death Valley Girls / Hound Lot (Bus Station)  

Treefort 2023 / Dark Dazey / Cyclops No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / Dark Dazey / Cyclops No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / Cal In Red / Camp Modern No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / Cal In Red / Camp Modern No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / You Said Strange / Hount Lot (Bus Station) No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / You Said Strange / Hount Lot (Bus Station) No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / Bittermint / Pengillys No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / Bittermint / Pengillys No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / Optiflynn / The District  

Treefort 2023 / Jane Weaver / Neurolux No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / Jane Weaver / Neurolux No. 2  

Treefort 2023 / Jane Weaver / Neurolux No. 3  

Treefort 2023 / Model-Actriz / Hound Lot (Bus Station) No. 1  

Treefort 2023 / Model-Actriz / Hound Lot (Bus Station) No. 2

Saturday, January 18, 2025

REVIEW—ERNEST COLE: LOST AND FOUND (2024)

Directed, written and produced by Raoul Peck (whose 2016 documentary I Am Not Your Negro impressed me) Ernest Cole: Lost and Found (which had its world premiere at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival) applies historic focus on Ernest Cole, a photographer who gained brief fame for exposing the horrors of Apartheid, subsequently escaped South Africa, becoming a restless exile in the United States and Europe, eventually depressing into homelessness and obscurity.

The first South African freelance photographer, Cole became radicalized by associations with other talented young black South Africans—journalists, photographers, jazz musicians, and political leaders in the burgeoning anti-apartheid movement—and applied himself to chronicling the evils and daily social effects of apartheid.  Able to escape South Africa, he fled to New York City with his negatives and prints and enthused Magnum Photos to help him secure a publishing deal with Random House, resulting in House of Bondage (1967), which at the time became the definitive exposé of apartheid.  The images of House of Bondage achieved a global audience.

 

But his experience of the United States proved to be disquieting, unsettling, as the promise he anticipated capsized into disillusioned awareness that racism was as rampant in the United States as it had been in South Africa, if not even more dangerous.  Unable to return home to South Africa, his life became a race against expiring visas and diminishing economic resources.  Commissioned by the Ford Foundation to chronicle Black family life in the rural South and the urban ghetto from “an outsider’s perspective”, Cole questioned what was expected of him and how it could be presumed that he was ever an outsider when what he witnessed in the impoverished lives of Blacks in America proved no different than what he had witnessed and chronicled in South Africa.  “I’m homesick,” he repeated frequently, “but I can’t go home.”

 

He gave up photography.  Became lost and homeless (thus, the “lost” of the film’s title).  His film negatives likewise disappeared (a compounded loss).  Cole died of cancer at the early age of 49, never able to return home to South Africa, never able to adjust to his exile.  The “found” part of the film’s title proved to be the mystery at the core of Cole’s biography and the film’s suggested future traction.  In April 2018, Cole’s heirs—namely a nephew who had founded the Ernest Cole Family Trust—were notified by a Swedish bank that a collection of 60,000 meticulously archived negatives had been discovered in a vault in Stockholm.  The bank was not forthcoming in disclosing who had placed the negatives in the vault or who had paid for their storage, but included were many of the original negatives he had taken in South Africa and several notes that helped shape House of Bondage.  How had they ended up in Sweden?  Why was the bank so tight-lipped, claiming they had no records of who deposited and paid for the storage?

 

Further, the Hasselblad Foundation has clung to 504 of Cole’s photographs, whose estimated value is in the neighborhood of one million Euros.  The ownership of these is in legal dispute, with the Hasselblad Foundation refusing to relinquish the photos to Cole’s estate until they can prove ownership.  As of 2020, the legal dispute between Cole's estate and the Hasselblad Foundation is ongoing.

 

Peck’s documentary reveals an artist whose initial energy awakened the world to the injustice of apartheid but who was himself undermined by the judgmental machinations of racism that left him tethered to a miserable past that he was doomed to repeat in America.  The psychological price of exile crippled his spirit and, in turn, his artistry.  One can only imagine what he might have accomplished had he been able to feel at home in the United States and if he had received the support he needed and deserved.  It never ceases to amaze and anger me that frequently it isn’t until an artist is dead that their work gains the financial value that would have benefited the artist while alive.  Peck’s film has at least provided some recompense by insuring that Cole is not forgotten, not the least of which is attention to an earlier documentary on Cole’s life made by Jürgen Schadeberg, available in its entirety on YouTube.  In 1958, Jürgen Schadeberg, the picture editor of Drum magazine, employed Cole as his assistant.  That experience shaped Cole’s artistry.  In conjunction, Peck’s Ernest Cole: Lost and Found and Schadeberg’s earlier work Ernest Cole underscore what has been found in Cole’s life and effectively labor to offset what was feared and believed lost.

Friday, January 17, 2025

THURSDAY THROWBACK: INLAND EMPIRE—The San Rafael Film Center Q&A With David Lynch (Friday, January 19, 2007)


"Transcendental meditation speaks of inner preservation.  Transcendental meditation gives you peace of mind."—“Jesus Children of America”, Stevie Wonder.

 In the September-October 2006 issue of Film Comment, Paul Schrader has a thought-provoking write-up-"Canon Fodder" [subsequently incorporated into his archive]—wherein he juggles his quandaries regarding what criteria should be used to determine cinematic masterworks.  If there is to be anything close to a film canon, he suggests, it must be based on necessarily refurbished criteria, seven of which he posits for consideration: beauty, unity of form and subject matter, tradition, repeatability, viewer engagement, morality, and the one which I feel applies here—strangeness.

"Harold Bloom," Schrader writes, "uses the term 'strangeness' in lieu of the more common 'originality.'  Strangeness is the type of originality that we can 'never altogether assimilate.'  The concept of strangeness enriches the traditional notion of originality, adding the connotations of unpredictability, unknowability, and magic.  To say that Jean Cocteau was original seems somehow thin; he was more than original, he was strange.  Originality is a prerequisite for the canon—the matter at hand must be expressed in a fresh way—but it is the addition of strangeness to originality that gives these works their enduring status.  This strangeness, this unpredictable burst of originality, is the attribute of a work of art that causes successive generations to puzzle over it, to debate it, to be awed by it.  Strangeness is the Romantic's term and Hegel's and everyone else's thereafter—until supplanted by the more recent 'defamiliarization.' " (Film Comment, 42:5, p. 44, fn. Omitted.)

I have found no more accurate a summation of the work of David Lynch and his current project Inland Empire than Schrader's indirect description.  One might even come to think of this posited criteria of strangeness as the Lynchian imperative.

From the moment reactions started trickling in for Inland Empire, I knew the film would require repeated viewings.  So I caught it first at the Palm Springs International Film Festival—where there were surprisingly few walkouts among the film's capacity Camelot audience—and then again night before last at the San Rafael Film Center where David Lynch was in attendance to introduce the film and to field queries afterwards.  Arriving at the Film Center two hours in advance, I was stunned to discover a rush line halfway down the block.  Prudently, I had ordered my ticket online, picked it up at will call and joined Frako Loden and Joe Loree in line.  They were conversing with a young fellow who had been at the front of the rush line since noon.  He was jubilant.  He had just been given a free ticket by someone who couldn't attend the screening.  All very strange—and wonderful—indeed.

David Lynch introduced Inland Empire by offering a man with "an interesting stake in the present but always with a beautiful, haunting wind of the past; the rocker with the voice of gold"—Chris Isaak—who came on stage to perform a Mexican rancheria and his hit "Wicked Game", which Chris reminded his audience had been used in one of Lynch's movies.  "I probably wouldn't have had a career," Isaak stated, "if not for David Lynch."

"Baloney," Lynch protested.

"Seriously," Isaak insisted, "I remember I went to Warner Brothers and said, 'Can we get a video for this?' and they said, 'No.'  I said, 'Well, David Lynch said he'd make one on his own time.'  I remember it and I thank you for it."

Lynch then asked Isaak to play him a couple of his beautiful chords while he read a quote from the Aitareya Upanishad: "We are like the spider.  We weave our life and then move along in it. We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives in the dream.  This is true for the entire universe."  Lynch then wished his audience a good experience viewing Inland Empire.

Three hours later Lynch returned to the stage to a standing ovation and prolonged applause. San Rafael Film Center's programmer Richard Peterson stole the first question by way of commenting on Laura Dern's tour de force performance.  "Laura Dern may not get an Academy Award," Lynch qualified, "but in a couple of years people will look back on this year and they'll say, definitely, she gave one of the best performances, if not the greatest performance in my book."

Understanding that, since Eraserhead, Mary Sweeney has usually done Lynch's editing, Lynch was asked how he came to the decision to edit Inland Empire himself, what the experience was like for him, and what software system he used?

Final Cut Pro, Lynch responded.  It's great to work with an editor, he added, but it's so beautiful to get your hands on.  You discover things that maybe you wouldn't discover before. That's the feeling, digging down deeper.  Now, with the digital world, a filmmaker has so much more control.  "I'm never going to go back to film," Lynch announced.  "Film is a beautiful medium, so beautiful, but it's a dinosaur.  It's heavy.  It's slow.  It tears.  Watermarks.  Colors don't match in the prints.  The bad ones go to the Midwest and the good ones to New York." He concedes film is beautiful when you get it right but there's so much down time to a film. "You die the death.  It's unreal slow and you die.  I don't want to die."

One fellow commended Lynch for the dream-like quality of his films, necessitating repeated viewings, and their Derridean sense where something is always off-center, unseen, but poetically pervasive.  "That's very beautiful," Lynch thanked him (even though the audience groaned at the somewhat pretentious mention of Jacques Derrida), "and poetry is a great thing.  Cinema is a language that can say abstractions.  Like the right combo of words will conjure something magical, cinema has this way of saying abstractions.  There are things that are communicated that can't be said in words except by a poet and we feel-think these things, they're so beautiful the language of film.  You need a concrete story—you may not say that [Inland Empire] is a concrete story but to me it is a concrete story—holding a certain number of abstractions."  In contrast to his audience, Lynch liked the word "Derridean", didn't appear to be that familiar with Derrida, but quipped, "You learn something new every day."

Asked about his sound design, Lynch responded, "Sound and picture moving together in time is the most beautiful thing.  It's all based on ideas.  When you catch an idea, you don't catch the whole thing all at once, but you catch idea fragments and these fragments draw others and it goes like this [Lynch wiggles his fingers like a shimmering wave pattern] and the thing starts building.  But it's always following the idea, translating the idea, staying true to that idea.  Then, for every single element, you can tell if it's not right.  And if it's not right, you can sort of feel—based on thinking about that idea—what will feel correct.  So sound, being one element, you get the hard effects and the more abstract effects and music to marry to the picture.  I'll feel how music comes in and how it swells and how it goes and how it disappears and something else comes with it. You're getting a feel based on the idea."

Asked where Lynch gets his ideas—if from dreams, from past lives, from paintings he's seen—he responded that they come from all over the place.  When you get an idea, like we all get ideas he explained, something is not there and then—bingo!—it enters your mind.  There it is.  Whatever the idea is, sometimes they come with such a thrill and you fall in love.  You see it in an instant and you fall in love. Then you write it down. The reason you write it down is you don't want to forget it.  Even though an idea might come in only a moment, you might write for a long time, several sentences, paragraphs, depending upon the idea.  So much comes in one moment.  It's such a thrill to be in love and you write it down so when you read it again, it will all come back.  Then you just follow that.

Asked if he remembers his dreams in detail, Lynch asserted he doesn't dream, or doesn't remember his dreams, and basically doesn't get his ideas from dreams.  Though he loves dream logic and that's what makes his films so "dreamy."

Asked how much he changes his original ideas in the editing process, Lynch stated that scene by scene, he stays true to his ideas.  Then he sees the whole thing and that, a lot of the time, is a major nightmare and a readjustment.  Then there are changes for the sake of the whole.  At some point he sees the film with other people, not to get notes but to feel it, and that's another nightmare and another bunch of adjustments.  He proceeds like that until the whole thing feels correct.

Asked about his forays into the horrific, Lynch described the world of a film.  The horror or torment of a story is strangely as beautiful.  "It's a contrast thing."  Then he falls in love for a second reason because he sees what sentiment can do to it.  It's all "blissful."  Peterson commented that Lynch had just written a book Catching The Big Fish, which is about capturing or experiencing bliss through the use of transcendental meditation, which Lynch practices to broaden his creativity.  Consciousness is all we have, Lynch replied.  We don't think about it much but—if we didn't have it—we wouldn't exist or—if we did exist—we wouldn't know it. "There are people who think that transcendental meditation is a religion or a cult, but it's not a religion; it's a mental technique that allows you to dive within and experience a field that belongs to all human beings, the whole thing.  In Vedic science that unified field of oneness that we can all access is called atman.  The true self.  Know thyself.  It's right there for everybody.  You enliven that by experiencing it and life gets real real good."

Inland Empire could be seen as a horror film about Hollywood and so one fellow was curious whether Lynch actually felt about Hollywood that way.  No, he answered resoundly.  It's just a story that came from ideas.  He lives in Hollywood but the idea of the film isn't anything he's experienced or seen or read about.  It's just an idea that came that he fell in love with that focuses on one angle of Hollywood.  It wasn't even so much that he wanted to make a film about Hollywood.  His original idea didn't even have anything to do with Hollywood; but, the film grew out of the ideas.  Lynch loves Hollywood.  He loves the Golden Age of Hollywood, its magic, and he even likes the way Hollywood fell.  But now it's coming back.  Digital's here and the Internet is here.  Hollywood is always changing and Inland Empire inflects only one part of it, much in a comparable way as Billy Wilder's Sunset Boulevard.  A person can enter Sunset Boulevard and feel another whole beautiful world about Hollywood.  Films are incredible things that way.

Frako Loden asked Lynch how his methods of getting his movies into theater houses is changing.  "I'm not self-distributing," Lynch responded, "but I'm not going through a regular distribution company on this film.  I've got a website and—during the course of the website—I started selling my first feature Eraserhead, short films, and other things and then meeting some great people, making relationships, and getting a conduit into the stores.  We thought, wouldn't it be great to have the ability to send Inland Empire that route?  Traditionally you go with a distributor because the distributor will give you an advance.  But things aren't happening in the movie industry—Inland Empire especially scares distributors (and you understand why)—so advances, like in the music business, are going down.  Then when you do all the work distributing a film, you don't get another nickel beyond the advance and so you think, why don't we just try it?  And travel to the beautiful Bay Area and meet people and meet the great theater owners and try something different?"

Lynch was asked if the look and feel of digital has changed his filmmaking?  He admitted that he started not knowing if he was making anything.  He shot scene by scene experimenting with the Sony PD150 for stuff on the website and at first he felt it was a toy camera but then he started liking the camera more and more.  He started shooting scenes with it and, as more ideas came and developed into a bigger story, he didn't want to switch horses in midstream, so he stayed with the Sony PD150, which is not hi-def, but low-def. T hen he did tests with the low-def upping the resolution to film and he was surprised how good it looked.  It had its own feel, not like film, but something he "kind of loved."  It reminded him of old 35mm film where you don't see everything so sharp and "it sort of strangely makes room to dream."  Further, digital allows him "a tweakability for color."  He can work with it before it gets transferred to film.  He actually ended up with more control than if he had set up timers.  For Lynch it's beautiful and it will only get better.  If there's something that's not too sharp or pleasing right now, just like with pro tools there will be a thousand plug-ins he can use to get it to be the way he wants it.

Asked what the original concept had been for Inland Empire, Lynch said it would have to have been Laura Dern herself.  He was outside and Laura Dern came walking down the sidewalk. She said, "Oh, hello David."

He said, "Hello, Laura."

She said, "I'm your new neighbor."

He said, "No kidding?" He hadn't seen her for a while so it was very pleasing to discover she was his new neighbor.

She said, "David, we've got to do something again."

He said, "Yes, that would be so beautiful." He started thinking about her and the film got written. Laura stuck with him because, honestly, the first day he showed up with his toy camera, it didn't look like he was really shooting a movie.  Later on, she saw how beautiful the result was because filming with the Sony PD150 allows 40 minutes of tape, providing the time to discuss and delve into scenes.  "Maybe some magic is caught that wouldn't be caught otherwise," Lynch emphasized, "so pretty soon you start falling in love with this thing."

Asked how he had described the role to Laura Dern before shooting, Lynch explained that normally when you begin shooting a film there's a script and the lead actress, especially, knows the whole story; but, with Inland Empire, Dern didn't know what was going to happen and—for that matter—neither did Lynch.  But they approached it scene by scene.  Within each scene they could identify the character, talk about the scene in relation to the character, locate what they could rehearse, and what they were prepared to shoot.  When they went to the next scene, they had the first scene as a point of reference.  If you're true to that method of working, Lynch proposed, it doesn't mean that the film will always work out but—if you're true to it—you have a chance.

Considering that digital filmmaking is assumedly more cost-effective, Lynch was asked if that opened him up to experiment more with his ideas.  No, Lynch answered, it's the same thing—ideas and translating them—it's just that digital filmmaking is more about "getting the thing than waiting for the thing to move around."  It's more friendly to the process and the scenes.

Asked how much time it took him to make Inland Empire, Lynch replied three years, two years ("and probably more") of which he didn't know what he was doing.

Just out of curiosity, one fellow asked, did you decide to include the rabbit elements in the editing room or when you were generating the story?  The rabbits are an idea, Lynch explained, and you don't know where an idea is going to go.  It goes one way and then you start thinking and then it goes there.  You start one thing and you don't know where it's going to go.  It unfolds.

At this point—no doubt exhausted with having to explain his creative vision—Lynch suggested that Chris Isaak return to the stage for another song or two.  Ever the jokester, Isaak assured Lynch he would try to keep things moving but had to admit it was a long movie.  The weird thing, he added, is that he was listening to the audience's questions without having had the chance to see the movie.  Everyone's seen the movie but him.  The audience collectively went, "Awwwwww."  "I came here and I sang and I didn't get to see the movie.  I'll sing again and whatever I have to do to see it."  He then asked for hands of how many people liked the movie.  Then for how many people understood the movie.  Then as a capper to the evening Isaak insisted that Lynch play maracas for the final song, even giving Lynch a maracas solo.

Strange, indeed. Wonderfully, memorably, strange.

Cross-published at Sceen Anarchy.

01/26/07 UPDATE: Peter Martin's friend Wells Dunbar caught the Austin, Texas, screening of Inland Empire at Austin's infamous Alamo Drafthouse and has contributed Dunbar's reportage of the ensuing Q&A to Screen Anarchy.  Within Dunbar's masterful synopsis, I really like this description: " 'It's kinda laid a mindfuck on me,' Laura Dern snarls in a bruised drawl, somewhere in the final third of David Lynch's Inland Empire.  An impassioned laugh from the audience confirmed she wasn't alone.  Hair disheveled, face dirtied and with a bloody bruise edging out from her famously malleable mouth, Dern makes the declaration as one Susan Blue, a beatdown Southern belle fallen on hard times following her marriage to an Eastern Bloc refugee of ill repute.  Or something."

Thursday, January 02, 2025

PORCELAIN WAR (2024)—REVIEW

Porcelain War (2024), the documentary film directed by Brendan Bellomo and Slava Leontyev that won this year’s Sundance Festival Grand Jury Prize, follows the experience of Ukrainian artists as they face the current Russian occupation in Ukraine. In a masterful double-helix it shows how artists must soldier on in the face of horrific adversity and how soldiers must protect artists or risk erasure of their culture. It tempers scenes of unimaginable destruction and death with meditative observations of nature through a cycle of seasons and the heartfelt determination of artistry. 

What might have been nothing more than an intrusion into a war zone, Porcelain War accomplishes much more through a multidisciplinary and layered approach. Yes, there is the shocking and heartbreaking aerial drone footage of cities ravaged by bombing and the icy remove from people being killed far below, but these are balanced with exquisitely tender animations engineered by Blu Blu Studios that bring Anya Stasenko’s delicate designs painted on porcelain to life, most notably in the recount of the takeover and evacuation of Crimea. DakhaBrakha, a Ukrainian folk music quartet who combine the musical styles of several ethnic groups, add a resonant emotional layer that expresses alarm, resistance and resolution. 

In the pause after viewing the film, a prayer surfaces that this senseless invasion be finished so that the Ukrainian people can return to family, friends, culture and nation and the lives of expendable Russian soldiers stop being sent into battle like fuel for an unquenchable fire.  

Porcelain War is a Picturehouse Release, runs 87 minutes, is in English, Russian, and Ukrainian with English subtitles, and is rated R. It opens Friday, January 3, 2025 at the AMC Metreon Theater, San Francisco and the Smith Rafael Film Center, San Rafael. It opens one week later, January 10, 2025 at The Flicks in Boise, Idaho.