Concurrent with the 16th edition of the Fantasia International Film Festival (Fantasia), Montreal's Cinémathèque Québécoise is hosting the traveling exhibit "If They Came From Within: An Alternative History of Canadian Horror Movies" from July 20-July 29, 2012, with an opening gala on Friday, July 20, 5:00PM.
Per their press release: "Imagine an alternative universe of Canadian horror movies that didn't get made, couldn't get made and maybe even shouldn't get made ... but we'd still love to see. Rue Morgue magazine Editor-in-Chief Dave Alexander brings together some of Canada and Quebec's most celebrated genre filmmakers with some of the country's best designers and illustrators to create a gallery of poster art for Maple Syrup genre films that don't exist.
"Jason Eisener (Hobo With A Shotgun) dreams up a post-apocalyptic, gangster, man-fish odyssey. Vincenzo Natali (Splice) offers his own cross-border version of Blue Sunshine. Maurice Devereaux (End Of the Line) draws on Quebec folklore for a story of a supernatural child-killer named the Bonesetter. Bruce McDonald (Hardcore Logo) and author Tony Burgess (People Still Live In Cashtown Corners) imagine two sequels to Pontypool (the first of which is actually a part of Fantasia's new international co-production market!). Lee Demarbre (Smash Cut) brings sex, cannibalism and espionage to Parliament Hill in his hoser-happy Emanuelle movie. Plus more from filmmakers Éric Tessier (5150 Elm's Way), Karim Hussain (La Belle Bete, cinematographer of Brandon Cronenberg's Antiviral), Astron-6 (Father's Day), Rodrigo Gudiño (The Facts In the Case of Mister Hollow), George Mihalka (My Bloody Valentine), Brett Kelly (My Dead Girlfriend), Donna Davies (Nightmare Factory) and several from Alexander himself.
"Featuring original art created by: Rupert Bottenberg, Angus Byers, Donald Caron, Jason Edmiston, Justin Erickson, Vince Marconi, Matthew Marigold, Richard Patmore, Martin Plante, Ghoulish Gary Pullin, Paige Reynolds, Eric Robillard, Mathew Verreault, Adam Vierra, Mark Unterberger and James White.
"Expect additional multimedia surprises, including original soundtrack recordings from Montreal musician Conrad Simon [MySpace]. Montrealers will get a special chance to see this first, with many of the creators present, before the show embarks on a nationwide gallery tour."
"Teeth" illustration courtesy of Jason Edmiston.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
SFSFF 2012: PREVIEW—By Michael Hawley
Just four months after blowing everyone away with the awesome spectacle that was Abel Gance's Napoleon, the San Francisco Silent Film Festival (SFSFF) returns for its 17th annual event at the Castro Theatre from July 12 to 15, 2012. When the line-up was first announced I heard a few people grouse about it having a "greatest hits" vibe; but, the reality is only two of this year's 17 programs are repeats—Wings (from back in 1999) and Pandora's Box (shown in 2003). Personally, I've never seen any of them on a big screen and am therefore completely psyched. Big Names from the silent era are much in evidence, both in front of the camera (Clara Bow, Emil Jannings, Felix the Cat, Pola Negri, Louise Brooks, Douglas Fairbanks, Roland Colman, Buster Keaton) and behind it (Ernst Lubitsch, Victor Fleming, Georg Wihelm Pabst, Joseph von Sternberg, William A. Wellman). There are several tempting, unfamiliar rarities as well. I searched for films I might skip out on—if only to get a breath of air and a decent meal—but came up empty handed.
An issue that's sure to be a subject of discussion this year—and it's one the festival isn't shying away from—is that of digital exhibition. SFSFF dipped its toe in the digital waters two years ago with the restoration of Metropolis, saying it was the only option available. This year they're wading ankle deep with two DCP presentations, Lubitsch's The Loves of Pharaoh and Wellman's Wings. The latter is SFSFF17's opening night film, which is clearly making a statement. The great digital vs. 35mm divide is also the focus of this year's Amazing Tales from the Archives presentation (see below for details). So no matter which side you're on—if a side needs to be taken at all—there should be plenty here to chew on.
Plain and simple, if you've never attended the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, you owe yourself the experience of seeing a silent film the way it was meant to be seen, in a landmark 1922 movie palace with accomplished live musical accompaniment. What follows is a stroll through SFSFF17's line-up with some hopefully interesting facts, figures, gossip and trivia—a bit more than what's available on the festival's website and brochure, but considerably less than what we'll find in the scholarly essays that appear in the complementary program guide during the festival.
7:00 P.M. Wings (1927, USA, dir. William A. Wellman)—Until The Artist, this drama about two WWI pilots in love with the same girl was technically the only silent film to win the Best Picture Oscar®, or rather, Most Outstanding Production. While I've never seen Wings, I am familiar with the famously heartbreaking kiss between Charles "Buddy" Rogers and Richard Arlen (both of whom served as pallbearers at the 1965 funeral of Wings co-star Clara Bow). Gary Cooper, who turns up in a supporting role as a doomed pilot, began a much-publicized affair with Bow during the shoot. The film seems best remembered for its aerial stunt photography—with director William Wellman having been hired specifically for his WWI aviator experience. None other than William Wellman, Jr., author of The Man and His Wings: William A. Wellman and the Making of the First Best Picture, will introduce this screening. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra will accompany, with Ben Burtt providing live Foley effects. Burtt is a nine-time Oscar® nominee for Best Sound / Sound Editing, with wins for ET: The Extra-Terrestrial and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Following the screening, a festive opening night party will be happening at the top-floor loft of the McRoskey Mattress Company.
10:30 A.M. Amazing Tales from the Archives: Into the Digital Frontier—One of the hottest topics amongst cinephiles this spring was the "This is DCP" series at NYC's Film Forum, where several digitally restored classics, including Five Easy Pieces, The Red Shoes and Rear Window, were screened in DCP, or "digital cinema package" format. The highlight was a comparative 35mm vs. DCP, side-by-side showing of Dr. Strangelove. This series was the undertaking of Grover Crisp, Sony Pictures executive vice president in charge of asset management, film restoration and digital mastering. I'm excited Crisp will be at the Castro performing another side-by-side demonstration for SFSFF audiences. (For an in-depth report on the Film Forum series, check out Miranda Popkey's piece at Capital New York). Also on the program will be Andrea Kalas, vice president of archives at Paramount Pictures, who will discuss the restoration of Wings, which will have opened the festival the previous evening in DCP. Admission is free.
1:00 P.M. Little Toys (1933, China, dir. Sun Yu)—Director Sun Yu is known for a string of socially conscious dramas made in the silent era's twilight years. In 2009 the festival brought us Sun's 1932 Wild Rose and now follows up with this decade-spanning epic about the calamities which befall a rural toymaker during a time of political upheaval. Sun made the movie to rouse nationalism following Japan's invasion of Manchuria. It stars two of China's most popular actresses of the 1930's playing mother / daughter protagonists; Lingyu Ruan (who we saw two years ago in A Spray of Plum Blossoms) and Li Lili (Wild Rose).
4:00 P.M. The Loves of Pharaoh (1922, Germany, dir. Ernst Lubitsch)—This historical melodrama was Lubitsch's last German production, a Hollywood calling card to prove he could indeed helm large-scale epics boasting 6,000 extras, lavish costumes and gargantuan sets. The great Emil Jannings (The Last Laugh, The Blue Angel) stars as an Egyptian ruler who spurns an offer of marriage to the Ethiopian king's daughter and thereby ignites a war by choosing the king's beloved slave girl instead. Long considered a lost film, this new digital restoration—assembled from fragments found in far-flung places—was executed by the same company (Alpha Omega GmbH) that resurrected Fritz Lang's complete Metropolis. Ten additional minutes are still thought to be missing. And who best to accompany this grandiose presentation than the incomparable Dennis James on the Castro Theatre's Mighty Wurlitzer. The photograph below is one of only 17 stunning, high resolution stills from The Loves of Pharaoh to be found on the festival's Press Room page.
7:00 P.M. Mantrap (1926, USA, dir. Victor Fleming)—Clara Bow makes her second appearance at 2012's festival in the film she claimed her personal favorite. Released shortly before It—the movie that gave her a moniker—Bow got rave reviews as the man-eating Minneapolis manicurist who strays from her backwoodsman husband and aims straight for a famous divorce lawyer. The story is adapted from a Sinclair Lewis novel, with Bow's character considerably softened, and the titular "Mantrap" is actually a Canadian boondocks town where the action is set. Cinematography is by the great DP James Wong Howe and the film's intertitles are said to be quite witty. Mantrap also witnessed the beginning of a hot and heavy affair between Bow and the film's director Victor Fleming, who would of course go on to direct The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind. Noted film critic Michael Sragow, who wrote Victor Fleming, an American Movie Master, will introduce the screening. Stephen Horne accompanies on grand piano.
Mantrap will be preceded by Twin Peaks Tunnel, a recently restored short about the construction of one of the world's longest railway tunnels—one that just happens to begin right outside the festival's doorstep. Parts of the film are available to watch on YouTube and there's some terrific footage of Castro and Market Streets circa 1918.
9:15 P.M. The Wonderful Lie of Nina Petrovna (1929, Germany, dir. Hanns Schwarz)—Each year SFSFF engages a contemporary filmmaker to choose a film from the line-up and present it as a Director's Pick—with past pickers ranging from Alexander Payne to Terry Zwigoff. The Bay Area's Philip Kaufman has selected this tale of a St. Petersburg courtesan who leaves her officer lover for the affections of a lowly lieutenant. It's considered the best of Austrian director Hanns Schwarz' 24 films, with one ardent IMDb user gushing "it's more poignant and visually dazzling than Ophuls, more erotic and atmospheric than Sternberg, with a camera more sinuously alive than Murnau or Lang." The film stars Brigitte Helm as Nina Petrovna, two years after her mesmerizing screen debut in Metropolis and one year after starring in Marcel L'Herbier's L'Argent (SFSFF 2011 Winter Event). Accompaniment will be provided by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra.
10:00 A.M. The Irrepressible Felix the Cat! (1924-1928, USA, dir. Otto Messmer & Pat Sullivan)—Felix the Cat was the first cartoon character with a name famous enough to draw people into movie theaters. He was so iconic that Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic with a Felix doll and Aldous Huxley wrote the cartoon proved "what the cinema can do better than literature or spoken drama is to be fantastic." These cartoons were also noted for integrating social issues and current events into their storylines. The festival will present seven Felix animated shorts, all but one from his days at the Educational Pictures distribution company. Leonard Maltin and film scholar Russell Merritt will introduce the screenings, which will be accompanied by Donald Sosin and Toychestra, an all-woman experimental music ensemble from Oakland. And remember, as with all SFSFF screenings, children under 10 are admitted free!
12:00 P.M. The Spanish Dancer (1923, USA, dir. Herbert Brenon)—Pola Negri was one of the biggest stars of the silent era and the first European actor to be lured to Hollywood (by Paramount in 1922). Her German mentor, Ernst Lubitsch, had been the first European director to cross over. I haven't seen any of her movies so I'm excited to experience this, her third American film and first big spectacle. Based on a Victor Hugo novel, it's the story of a gypsy singer who becomes involved in 17th century Spanish court intrigue. Negri's co-stars include the handsome Antonio Moreno as her lover and Wallace Beery as the King of Spain!? Adolphe Menjou also has a small role. The print we'll be seeing is a new restoration done by the Dutch EYE Film Institute, which also restored last year's Lois Weber film, Shoes. Rob Byrne, who worked on the restoration, will introduce and Donald Sosin accompanies on grand piano.
2:30 P.M. The Canadian (1926, USA, dir. William Beaudine)—This is a remake of a 1917 film, The Land of Promise, which bears the name of the Somerset Maugham play on which both films are based. A destitute woman journeys to the wilds of Canada to live with her brother and then marries a rough homesteader (actor Thomas Meighan, who played the same part in both movies) to evade her sister-in-law's ire. (Yes, it does sound a lot like Lillian Gish's 1928 vehicle The Wind (SFSFF15). Director William Beaudine was known for his efficiency and prolificacy, directing nearly 30 silents. He later became known for making series films like The East Side Kids and The Bowery Boys. But for me he's the guy who helmed notorious 1945 sex-ed feature Mom and Dad for exploitation pioneer Kroger Babb. Stephen Horne accompanies on grand piano.
Preceding the screening of The Canadian, the 2012 SF Silent Film Festival Award will be presented to the Telluride Film Festival "for their longtime dedication to the preservation and exhibition of silent film." Fest directors Tom Luddy, Gary Meyer and Julie Huntsinger will be there to receive the honor.
5:00 P.M. South (1919, UK, dir. Frank Hurley)—The festival follows last year's The Great White Silence with another Antarctic expedition documentary, South. It's an assemblage of photos and film footage taken by Australian photographer / adventurer Frank Hurley, when he accompanied Ernest Shackleton on that ill-fated trans-Antarctic trip aboard the ship Endurance. These materials exist today only because the intrepid Hurley dove into icy Antarctic waters ("stripped to the waist" as he wrote in his diary) to rescue them from the sinking ship. If you saw the 2000 documentary The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition, you've already been exposed to Hurley's work, which is said to have changed expedition photography forever. The festival will screen a new restoration by the British Film Institute with original tints and toning. Actor Paul McGann (Dr. Who, Withnail & I) will read from Shackleton's letters accompanied by pianist Stephen Horne.
7:00 P.M. Pandora's Box (1926, USA, dir. Georg Wilhelm Pabst)—Of all the programs in this year's festival, this tops my list—a new frame-by-frame restoration of one of the great films of all time, starring iconic Louise Brooks as cinema's quintessential femme fatale. I'm embarrassed that I've never seen it on a big screen, but am happy I've saved the experience for this opportune moment. Diary of a Lost Girl (1928), another memorable Pabst / Brooks collaboration, played the festival two years ago. This new restoration—paid for by good old Hugh Hefner—was produced by San Francisco-based Angela Holm and David Ferguson, who will introduce the film with some on-screen "before and after" comparisons. Sweden's Matti Bye Ensemble will provide accompaniment for this, the festival's 2012 Centerpiece Presentation.
10:00 P.M. The Overcoat (1926, USSR, dir. Grigori Kozintsev & Leonid Trauberg)—It's become a SFSFF tradition to reserve Saturday's final screening as a Late Show slot for silent cinema's off-kilter output. Past selections have included Häxan: Witchcraft through the Ages, Aelita, Queen of Mars and a trio of Tod Browing / Lon Chaney collaborations (West of Zanzibar, The Unholy Three, The Unknown). This year's unsettling oddity is an adaptation of Nikolai Gogol's most famous short story about the repercussions of a lowly office worker's obsession with obtaining a new overcoat. An acquaintance who attends the Pordenone Silent Film Festival wrote me that it's "a real jaw-dropper" and said people came out of the screening "completely mind-blown." I recently watched it on YouTube in the hopes of being disappointed—an early evening might have been nice, but nothing doing. This should be excellent and I can only imagine what the Alloy Orchestra has cooked up in the way of a score.
10:00 A.M. The Mark of Zorro (1920, USA, dir. Fred Niblo)—This is a movie I've wanted to see for ages and I'm surprised the festival has never shown it. Based on Johnston McCulley's 1919 short story "The Curse of Capistrano," the film was Hollywood's first big swashbuckler and made Douglas Fairbanks a bigger star than he already was. He had a hand in writing the script and was responsible for coming up with that unmistakable Zorro "look." It was released the same year Fairbanks married Mary Pickford and was the debut release of United Artists, the company he co-founded with Pickford, Chaplin and D.W. Griffith. Director Fred Niblo would later work with Ramon Navarro in Ben Hur and Rudolph Valentino in Blood and Sand. Be on the lookout for 12-year-old Milton Berle in the uncredited role as "Boy." Dennis James on the Mighty Wurlitzer would seem the perfect choice for accompaniment. And once again, kids under 10 are admitted free!
12:00 P.M. The Docks of New York (1928, USA, dir. Josef von Sternberg)—No less than renowned film historian Kevin Brownlow considers this von Sternberg's finest film, which was released one year before he'd depart for Germany to make The Blue Angel. It's also his last silent film—excepting 1929's The Case of Lena Smith which is lost—and was selected for preservation by the National Film Registry in 1990. Betty Compson, a major silent star largely forgotten today, plays a prostitute who gets involved with the sailor (George Bancroft) who rescues her from a suicidal drowning. The film is by all accounts visually stunning, with an unsentimental and non-judgmental mindset towards its characters. I'm especially interested in seeing Olga Baclanova—best known as Cleopatra the trapeze artist in Tod Browning's Freaks—in a supporting role as the sailor's wronged wife. The intertitles are supposed to be something else. A wedding scene carries one that reads, "If any of you eggs know why these heels shouldn't get hitched, speak now or forever hold your trap." Donald Sosin will provide accompaniment on the grand piano.
2:00 P.M. Erotikon (1920, Sweden, dir. Mauritz Stiller)—Don't confuse this with Gustav Machatý's 1929 Czech film of the same title which played the festival three years ago. Stiller's Erotikon is a drawing room comedy about an entomologist studying the sex life of bugs. He has a mutual infatuation with his niece and a free-wheeling wife who's juggling the affections of a sculptor and an aviator. Detached and observational, the film is noted for its complete lack of moral judgment, unlike Hollywood films of the period. It sounds like a major highlight is the opera scene, with a half naked "Queen of the Shah" writhing lubriciously on a stage set worth of Busby Berkeley. Five years after Erotikon, Stiller would set sail for America with a little known actress he had discovered and given the name Greta Garbo. The Matti Bye Ensemble, who accompanied Stiller's The Blizzard at last year's festival, will repeat that honor for Erotikon.
4:30 P.M. Stella Dallas (1925, USA, dir. Henry King)—I knew the name Stella Dallas growing up because whenever I'd complain about how tough life was, one or both parents would respond, "Kid, you've got more problems than Stella Dallas." Oddly, I never sought out the famous 1937 Barbara Stanwyck vehicle—or the 18-years-running radio serial or Bette Midler's 1990 remake—so this will be my first exposure to the ultimate tale of maternal self sacrifice based on Olive Higgins Prouty's 1923 novel. The film was Belle Bennett's big break, as she was chosen over 73 other actresses by Samuel Goldwyn. Tragically, her 16-year-old son, whom she'd been passing off as her "brother" to hide her age from Hollywood producers, died during the production. The film co-stars Ronald Colman as Stella's wealthy husband, reuniting the actor with Henry King, who had directed his first Hollywood starring role (1923's The White Sister). Also making an appearance is 16-year-old Douglas Fairbanks Jr., in his fourth screen appearance. Czar of Noir City Eddie Muller will provide one of his customarily entertaining introductions, and Stephen Horne will accompany the film on grand piano.
7:30 P.M. The Cameraman (1928, USA, dir. Edward Sedgwick & Buster Keaton)—The festival ends with what many consider Buster Keaton's final masterpiece. It was his first film for MGM (a move he'd later call "the worst mistake of my career") and never again would he possess the independence and control necessary to create films worthy of his talents. Shot on both NYC locations and Hollywood sets, the film stars Keaton as accidental news photographer who becomes embroiled in Chinatown Tong Wars. Highlights include a hilarious sequence shot at a public swimming pool and one of film history's best performances by a monkey. The Cameraman was considered lost until an entire print was discovered in Paris in 1968. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra will accompany the film, with introductions by Leonard Maltin and SFSFF board member Frank Buxton, who was an acquaintance of Keaton.
Prior to The Cameraman, the Bay Area will finally get to see the most recent restoration of George Méliès' beloved 1902 short, A Trip to the Moon, which premiered at last year's Cannes Film Festival. In 1993, a hand-colored print of the film was discovered at the Filmoteca de Catalunya in a state of almost total decomposition. Restoration began in 1999 and took over 10 years to complete. Actor Paul McGann will be on hand to read the film's narration and Stephen Horne will accompany on grand piano.
Cross-published on film-415.
An issue that's sure to be a subject of discussion this year—and it's one the festival isn't shying away from—is that of digital exhibition. SFSFF dipped its toe in the digital waters two years ago with the restoration of Metropolis, saying it was the only option available. This year they're wading ankle deep with two DCP presentations, Lubitsch's The Loves of Pharaoh and Wellman's Wings. The latter is SFSFF17's opening night film, which is clearly making a statement. The great digital vs. 35mm divide is also the focus of this year's Amazing Tales from the Archives presentation (see below for details). So no matter which side you're on—if a side needs to be taken at all—there should be plenty here to chew on.
Plain and simple, if you've never attended the San Francisco Silent Film Festival, you owe yourself the experience of seeing a silent film the way it was meant to be seen, in a landmark 1922 movie palace with accomplished live musical accompaniment. What follows is a stroll through SFSFF17's line-up with some hopefully interesting facts, figures, gossip and trivia—a bit more than what's available on the festival's website and brochure, but considerably less than what we'll find in the scholarly essays that appear in the complementary program guide during the festival.
Thursday, July 12
7:00 P.M. Wings (1927, USA, dir. William A. Wellman)—Until The Artist, this drama about two WWI pilots in love with the same girl was technically the only silent film to win the Best Picture Oscar®, or rather, Most Outstanding Production. While I've never seen Wings, I am familiar with the famously heartbreaking kiss between Charles "Buddy" Rogers and Richard Arlen (both of whom served as pallbearers at the 1965 funeral of Wings co-star Clara Bow). Gary Cooper, who turns up in a supporting role as a doomed pilot, began a much-publicized affair with Bow during the shoot. The film seems best remembered for its aerial stunt photography—with director William Wellman having been hired specifically for his WWI aviator experience. None other than William Wellman, Jr., author of The Man and His Wings: William A. Wellman and the Making of the First Best Picture, will introduce this screening. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra will accompany, with Ben Burtt providing live Foley effects. Burtt is a nine-time Oscar® nominee for Best Sound / Sound Editing, with wins for ET: The Extra-Terrestrial and Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Following the screening, a festive opening night party will be happening at the top-floor loft of the McRoskey Mattress Company.
Friday, July 13
10:30 A.M. Amazing Tales from the Archives: Into the Digital Frontier—One of the hottest topics amongst cinephiles this spring was the "This is DCP" series at NYC's Film Forum, where several digitally restored classics, including Five Easy Pieces, The Red Shoes and Rear Window, were screened in DCP, or "digital cinema package" format. The highlight was a comparative 35mm vs. DCP, side-by-side showing of Dr. Strangelove. This series was the undertaking of Grover Crisp, Sony Pictures executive vice president in charge of asset management, film restoration and digital mastering. I'm excited Crisp will be at the Castro performing another side-by-side demonstration for SFSFF audiences. (For an in-depth report on the Film Forum series, check out Miranda Popkey's piece at Capital New York). Also on the program will be Andrea Kalas, vice president of archives at Paramount Pictures, who will discuss the restoration of Wings, which will have opened the festival the previous evening in DCP. Admission is free.
1:00 P.M. Little Toys (1933, China, dir. Sun Yu)—Director Sun Yu is known for a string of socially conscious dramas made in the silent era's twilight years. In 2009 the festival brought us Sun's 1932 Wild Rose and now follows up with this decade-spanning epic about the calamities which befall a rural toymaker during a time of political upheaval. Sun made the movie to rouse nationalism following Japan's invasion of Manchuria. It stars two of China's most popular actresses of the 1930's playing mother / daughter protagonists; Lingyu Ruan (who we saw two years ago in A Spray of Plum Blossoms) and Li Lili (Wild Rose).
4:00 P.M. The Loves of Pharaoh (1922, Germany, dir. Ernst Lubitsch)—This historical melodrama was Lubitsch's last German production, a Hollywood calling card to prove he could indeed helm large-scale epics boasting 6,000 extras, lavish costumes and gargantuan sets. The great Emil Jannings (The Last Laugh, The Blue Angel) stars as an Egyptian ruler who spurns an offer of marriage to the Ethiopian king's daughter and thereby ignites a war by choosing the king's beloved slave girl instead. Long considered a lost film, this new digital restoration—assembled from fragments found in far-flung places—was executed by the same company (Alpha Omega GmbH) that resurrected Fritz Lang's complete Metropolis. Ten additional minutes are still thought to be missing. And who best to accompany this grandiose presentation than the incomparable Dennis James on the Castro Theatre's Mighty Wurlitzer. The photograph below is one of only 17 stunning, high resolution stills from The Loves of Pharaoh to be found on the festival's Press Room page.
7:00 P.M. Mantrap (1926, USA, dir. Victor Fleming)—Clara Bow makes her second appearance at 2012's festival in the film she claimed her personal favorite. Released shortly before It—the movie that gave her a moniker—Bow got rave reviews as the man-eating Minneapolis manicurist who strays from her backwoodsman husband and aims straight for a famous divorce lawyer. The story is adapted from a Sinclair Lewis novel, with Bow's character considerably softened, and the titular "Mantrap" is actually a Canadian boondocks town where the action is set. Cinematography is by the great DP James Wong Howe and the film's intertitles are said to be quite witty. Mantrap also witnessed the beginning of a hot and heavy affair between Bow and the film's director Victor Fleming, who would of course go on to direct The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind. Noted film critic Michael Sragow, who wrote Victor Fleming, an American Movie Master, will introduce the screening. Stephen Horne accompanies on grand piano.
Mantrap will be preceded by Twin Peaks Tunnel, a recently restored short about the construction of one of the world's longest railway tunnels—one that just happens to begin right outside the festival's doorstep. Parts of the film are available to watch on YouTube and there's some terrific footage of Castro and Market Streets circa 1918.
9:15 P.M. The Wonderful Lie of Nina Petrovna (1929, Germany, dir. Hanns Schwarz)—Each year SFSFF engages a contemporary filmmaker to choose a film from the line-up and present it as a Director's Pick—with past pickers ranging from Alexander Payne to Terry Zwigoff. The Bay Area's Philip Kaufman has selected this tale of a St. Petersburg courtesan who leaves her officer lover for the affections of a lowly lieutenant. It's considered the best of Austrian director Hanns Schwarz' 24 films, with one ardent IMDb user gushing "it's more poignant and visually dazzling than Ophuls, more erotic and atmospheric than Sternberg, with a camera more sinuously alive than Murnau or Lang." The film stars Brigitte Helm as Nina Petrovna, two years after her mesmerizing screen debut in Metropolis and one year after starring in Marcel L'Herbier's L'Argent (SFSFF 2011 Winter Event). Accompaniment will be provided by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra.
Saturday, July 14
10:00 A.M. The Irrepressible Felix the Cat! (1924-1928, USA, dir. Otto Messmer & Pat Sullivan)—Felix the Cat was the first cartoon character with a name famous enough to draw people into movie theaters. He was so iconic that Charles Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic with a Felix doll and Aldous Huxley wrote the cartoon proved "what the cinema can do better than literature or spoken drama is to be fantastic." These cartoons were also noted for integrating social issues and current events into their storylines. The festival will present seven Felix animated shorts, all but one from his days at the Educational Pictures distribution company. Leonard Maltin and film scholar Russell Merritt will introduce the screenings, which will be accompanied by Donald Sosin and Toychestra, an all-woman experimental music ensemble from Oakland. And remember, as with all SFSFF screenings, children under 10 are admitted free!
12:00 P.M. The Spanish Dancer (1923, USA, dir. Herbert Brenon)—Pola Negri was one of the biggest stars of the silent era and the first European actor to be lured to Hollywood (by Paramount in 1922). Her German mentor, Ernst Lubitsch, had been the first European director to cross over. I haven't seen any of her movies so I'm excited to experience this, her third American film and first big spectacle. Based on a Victor Hugo novel, it's the story of a gypsy singer who becomes involved in 17th century Spanish court intrigue. Negri's co-stars include the handsome Antonio Moreno as her lover and Wallace Beery as the King of Spain!? Adolphe Menjou also has a small role. The print we'll be seeing is a new restoration done by the Dutch EYE Film Institute, which also restored last year's Lois Weber film, Shoes. Rob Byrne, who worked on the restoration, will introduce and Donald Sosin accompanies on grand piano.
2:30 P.M. The Canadian (1926, USA, dir. William Beaudine)—This is a remake of a 1917 film, The Land of Promise, which bears the name of the Somerset Maugham play on which both films are based. A destitute woman journeys to the wilds of Canada to live with her brother and then marries a rough homesteader (actor Thomas Meighan, who played the same part in both movies) to evade her sister-in-law's ire. (Yes, it does sound a lot like Lillian Gish's 1928 vehicle The Wind (SFSFF15). Director William Beaudine was known for his efficiency and prolificacy, directing nearly 30 silents. He later became known for making series films like The East Side Kids and The Bowery Boys. But for me he's the guy who helmed notorious 1945 sex-ed feature Mom and Dad for exploitation pioneer Kroger Babb. Stephen Horne accompanies on grand piano.
Preceding the screening of The Canadian, the 2012 SF Silent Film Festival Award will be presented to the Telluride Film Festival "for their longtime dedication to the preservation and exhibition of silent film." Fest directors Tom Luddy, Gary Meyer and Julie Huntsinger will be there to receive the honor.
5:00 P.M. South (1919, UK, dir. Frank Hurley)—The festival follows last year's The Great White Silence with another Antarctic expedition documentary, South. It's an assemblage of photos and film footage taken by Australian photographer / adventurer Frank Hurley, when he accompanied Ernest Shackleton on that ill-fated trans-Antarctic trip aboard the ship Endurance. These materials exist today only because the intrepid Hurley dove into icy Antarctic waters ("stripped to the waist" as he wrote in his diary) to rescue them from the sinking ship. If you saw the 2000 documentary The Endurance: Shackleton's Legendary Antarctic Expedition, you've already been exposed to Hurley's work, which is said to have changed expedition photography forever. The festival will screen a new restoration by the British Film Institute with original tints and toning. Actor Paul McGann (Dr. Who, Withnail & I) will read from Shackleton's letters accompanied by pianist Stephen Horne.
7:00 P.M. Pandora's Box (1926, USA, dir. Georg Wilhelm Pabst)—Of all the programs in this year's festival, this tops my list—a new frame-by-frame restoration of one of the great films of all time, starring iconic Louise Brooks as cinema's quintessential femme fatale. I'm embarrassed that I've never seen it on a big screen, but am happy I've saved the experience for this opportune moment. Diary of a Lost Girl (1928), another memorable Pabst / Brooks collaboration, played the festival two years ago. This new restoration—paid for by good old Hugh Hefner—was produced by San Francisco-based Angela Holm and David Ferguson, who will introduce the film with some on-screen "before and after" comparisons. Sweden's Matti Bye Ensemble will provide accompaniment for this, the festival's 2012 Centerpiece Presentation.
10:00 P.M. The Overcoat (1926, USSR, dir. Grigori Kozintsev & Leonid Trauberg)—It's become a SFSFF tradition to reserve Saturday's final screening as a Late Show slot for silent cinema's off-kilter output. Past selections have included Häxan: Witchcraft through the Ages, Aelita, Queen of Mars and a trio of Tod Browing / Lon Chaney collaborations (West of Zanzibar, The Unholy Three, The Unknown). This year's unsettling oddity is an adaptation of Nikolai Gogol's most famous short story about the repercussions of a lowly office worker's obsession with obtaining a new overcoat. An acquaintance who attends the Pordenone Silent Film Festival wrote me that it's "a real jaw-dropper" and said people came out of the screening "completely mind-blown." I recently watched it on YouTube in the hopes of being disappointed—an early evening might have been nice, but nothing doing. This should be excellent and I can only imagine what the Alloy Orchestra has cooked up in the way of a score.
Sunday, July 15
10:00 A.M. The Mark of Zorro (1920, USA, dir. Fred Niblo)—This is a movie I've wanted to see for ages and I'm surprised the festival has never shown it. Based on Johnston McCulley's 1919 short story "The Curse of Capistrano," the film was Hollywood's first big swashbuckler and made Douglas Fairbanks a bigger star than he already was. He had a hand in writing the script and was responsible for coming up with that unmistakable Zorro "look." It was released the same year Fairbanks married Mary Pickford and was the debut release of United Artists, the company he co-founded with Pickford, Chaplin and D.W. Griffith. Director Fred Niblo would later work with Ramon Navarro in Ben Hur and Rudolph Valentino in Blood and Sand. Be on the lookout for 12-year-old Milton Berle in the uncredited role as "Boy." Dennis James on the Mighty Wurlitzer would seem the perfect choice for accompaniment. And once again, kids under 10 are admitted free!
12:00 P.M. The Docks of New York (1928, USA, dir. Josef von Sternberg)—No less than renowned film historian Kevin Brownlow considers this von Sternberg's finest film, which was released one year before he'd depart for Germany to make The Blue Angel. It's also his last silent film—excepting 1929's The Case of Lena Smith which is lost—and was selected for preservation by the National Film Registry in 1990. Betty Compson, a major silent star largely forgotten today, plays a prostitute who gets involved with the sailor (George Bancroft) who rescues her from a suicidal drowning. The film is by all accounts visually stunning, with an unsentimental and non-judgmental mindset towards its characters. I'm especially interested in seeing Olga Baclanova—best known as Cleopatra the trapeze artist in Tod Browning's Freaks—in a supporting role as the sailor's wronged wife. The intertitles are supposed to be something else. A wedding scene carries one that reads, "If any of you eggs know why these heels shouldn't get hitched, speak now or forever hold your trap." Donald Sosin will provide accompaniment on the grand piano.
2:00 P.M. Erotikon (1920, Sweden, dir. Mauritz Stiller)—Don't confuse this with Gustav Machatý's 1929 Czech film of the same title which played the festival three years ago. Stiller's Erotikon is a drawing room comedy about an entomologist studying the sex life of bugs. He has a mutual infatuation with his niece and a free-wheeling wife who's juggling the affections of a sculptor and an aviator. Detached and observational, the film is noted for its complete lack of moral judgment, unlike Hollywood films of the period. It sounds like a major highlight is the opera scene, with a half naked "Queen of the Shah" writhing lubriciously on a stage set worth of Busby Berkeley. Five years after Erotikon, Stiller would set sail for America with a little known actress he had discovered and given the name Greta Garbo. The Matti Bye Ensemble, who accompanied Stiller's The Blizzard at last year's festival, will repeat that honor for Erotikon.
4:30 P.M. Stella Dallas (1925, USA, dir. Henry King)—I knew the name Stella Dallas growing up because whenever I'd complain about how tough life was, one or both parents would respond, "Kid, you've got more problems than Stella Dallas." Oddly, I never sought out the famous 1937 Barbara Stanwyck vehicle—or the 18-years-running radio serial or Bette Midler's 1990 remake—so this will be my first exposure to the ultimate tale of maternal self sacrifice based on Olive Higgins Prouty's 1923 novel. The film was Belle Bennett's big break, as she was chosen over 73 other actresses by Samuel Goldwyn. Tragically, her 16-year-old son, whom she'd been passing off as her "brother" to hide her age from Hollywood producers, died during the production. The film co-stars Ronald Colman as Stella's wealthy husband, reuniting the actor with Henry King, who had directed his first Hollywood starring role (1923's The White Sister). Also making an appearance is 16-year-old Douglas Fairbanks Jr., in his fourth screen appearance. Czar of Noir City Eddie Muller will provide one of his customarily entertaining introductions, and Stephen Horne will accompany the film on grand piano.
7:30 P.M. The Cameraman (1928, USA, dir. Edward Sedgwick & Buster Keaton)—The festival ends with what many consider Buster Keaton's final masterpiece. It was his first film for MGM (a move he'd later call "the worst mistake of my career") and never again would he possess the independence and control necessary to create films worthy of his talents. Shot on both NYC locations and Hollywood sets, the film stars Keaton as accidental news photographer who becomes embroiled in Chinatown Tong Wars. Highlights include a hilarious sequence shot at a public swimming pool and one of film history's best performances by a monkey. The Cameraman was considered lost until an entire print was discovered in Paris in 1968. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra will accompany the film, with introductions by Leonard Maltin and SFSFF board member Frank Buxton, who was an acquaintance of Keaton.
Prior to The Cameraman, the Bay Area will finally get to see the most recent restoration of George Méliès' beloved 1902 short, A Trip to the Moon, which premiered at last year's Cannes Film Festival. In 1993, a hand-colored print of the film was discovered at the Filmoteca de Catalunya in a state of almost total decomposition. Restoration began in 1999 and took over 10 years to complete. Actor Paul McGann will be on hand to read the film's narration and Stephen Horne will accompany on grand piano.
Cross-published on film-415.
FUSION MAGAZINE (VOL. 1, NO. 4)—Idaho Film Industry Revealed
I'm pleased to announce the publication of my overview of Idaho film production in the Summer issue of Fusion Magazine (Vol. 1, No. 4). The digital version of the magazine can be found here, and the print edition will show up on newstands next week. My thanks to Pete Grady for his stellar portraits.
Thursday, July 05, 2012
PANAMÁ IFF / FANTASIA 2012: LA CHISPA DE LA VIDA (AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT)—The Evening Class Interview With Álex de la Iglesia
As luck would have it, the bevy of journalists clamoring to query Álex de la Iglesia at the inaugural edition of the Panamá International Film Festival (Panamá IFF) happened to be in the wrong place at the right time (at least as far as I was concerned). Assembled on the sixth floor veranda of Panama City's Hotel Meridien, the journalists were unaware that de la Iglesia was waiting downstairs in the lobby. As was I. Thus, I had a window of opportunity before the throng advanced to ask de la Iglesia a few questions about his latest film La Chispa de la Vida (As Luck Would Have It). I now offer the transcript of that conversation on the occasion of the film's Canadian premiere at the 2012 edition of the Fantasia International Film Festival.
Compared here and again to Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole (1951), La Chispa de la Vida is arguably de la Iglesia's most accessible film to date, though some might argue it is de la Iglesia-lite. Further, as noted by Jonathan Holland in his Variety review, the literal translation of the film's Spanish title (The Spark of Life) would be not only accurate but more appropriate since "The Spark of Life" references the successful advertising slogan that made an aging and down-on-his-luck publicist a one-shot wonder for the Coca-Cola company. Just as Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas) fanned a media blaze around the tragic plight of trapped miner Leo Minosa, an equal fervor surrounds beleaguered Roberto Gómez (José Mota) who—after an accidental fall in the ruins of an ancient coliseum—has found himself pinned to a life-threatening situation. As Panamá IFF's program note details: "From there we're taken on a non-stop freak show of desperate civil functionaries trying to conceal their liabilities, media network execs showing their money teeth to get exclusive rights to broadcast live the agonizing drama of Roberto's family, and the vulture audience that fills the classic coliseum where the events unfold."
Director, producer, writer and cartoonist Álex de la Iglesia holds a degree in philosophy from the Universidad de Deusto. His career in film began with the short Mirindas asesinas (1991) and his first feature film was Acción mutante (1993). His provocative dark comedies such as The Day of the Beast (1995), Perdita Durango (1997), Muertos de risa (1999), The Commonwealth (2000), 800 balas (2002), Ferpect Crime (2004), The Oxford Murders (2007) and The Last Circus (2010) have earned him a celebrated following few Spanish directors enjoy. His films cross borders and genres, and have helped bring new audiences to the world of Spanish-language cinema. Because of his ability to transcend, to travel and engage across the boundaries of language, de la Iglesia was fêted with a five-film showcase at Panamá IFF. [This conversation is not for the spoiler-wary.]
Michael Guillén: Álex, what I appreciate most about your films is that they are genre hybrids and that, as a spectator, I can feel when you are shifting from one genre into another. Arguably, La Chispa de la Vida could be understood as a horror film in the sense that the dilemma of your protagonist Roberto reflects the horror many people are currently experiencing as victims of the economy, losing their jobs, and being unable to control the corporate forces negatively impacting their lives; but, at the same time, your film is a comedy. Is that particular sensorial quality of shifting from one genre to another something you intentionally work into your scripts?
Álex de la Iglesia: It's not that conscious of a process; but, I have to say that's how I feel life works. I can't believe in just one genre because I don't trust people. Nobody's just honest. Nobody's just humorous. It's always a mixture within each person. Everything is mixed. In every day of your life you will have beautiful moments, honest moments, and dignified moments; but, you will also have ridiculous moments. It's all mixed up together.
Let's say you go to a funeral and—as you are standing there beside the grave—you realize how the life you had with this guy is suddenly dead. You feel all the love and remember the beautiful and funny moments you had with this guy. And you begin to cry. Then suddenly something stupid happens and you can't help but laugh. Because nothing is perfect. Nothing works. In the same moment that you are suffering, you are laughing and vice versa. One moment you're having a really good time with your friends when, suddenly, your soul takes a big hit because someone comes up to you to tell you your mother is dying or your father is dying. Nothing is perfect. Life is a confusion of sentiments. Thus, it's absolutely impossible for me to make the kind of genre film that an audience might expect and adore.
I love genre films. I love comedies. I love dramas. I understand that the work of cinema is to know the feelings caused by certain genres to best express life. But I can't make a film in just one genre because, as I said, life isn't like that for me. For example, in La Chispa de la Vida there's the scene where the main character Roberto is talking with his son and says, "Hey, now we'll have money. And now you can do whatever you want in your life. Try to be free. Try to be honest with yourself." In that intimate moment his son unknowingly steps on him and—seeing his dad in sudden agony—asks, "Dad, are you dying?!" To which Roberto answers, "No, you're stepping on me." [Laughs.]
Guillén: Both dark and funny, yes. Along with Mota's lead portrayal of Roberto, I was particularly impressed with Salma Hayek in the role of Roberto's wife Luisa. For me, she embodied an integrity that went past surface appearances.
De la Iglesia: I don't want to destroy everything. I don't think that's fair. We need some kind of dignity. In this movie, that dignity is in the hands of a woman. Salma plays Luisa, a regular woman, a normal wife, who tries to be charming for her husband and honest with her family and her relationships; but—in this moment of crisis—she realizes that she has made a big mistake. She has been encouraging her husband, telling him, "Someday you're going to win. Someday you're going to get a job"; but, at the end this is not possible and she realizes that trying to be positive all the time has been a big mistake.
Guillén: There was that moment of exquisite suspense when Luisa is offered the valise of money in exchange for media rights. The film sardonically skewers so much hypocrisy up to then, that you don't quite know if she's going to take the money or not. I was glad she didn't and grateful for that grace note of integrity.
De la Iglesia: Though many people in Spain have asked me, "Why didn't she take the money? It would be better for her family and would give them financial security."
Guillén: That particular scene likewise accentuates a characteristic rhythm in your work. Often your films go to excess and then—as in this scene where Luisa walks past the valise of money—you suddenly exercise restraint, which restores dignity.
De la Iglesia: Thank you very much for that. That is the idea of the movie. The idea of the film is about what happens to people when they don't have time to think about what to do? Because, in truth, that's how life often is. Everything rushes by so fast that a person doesn't have time to think much past the moment. They don't know what to do about the future. Suddenly they find themselves near death and they wonder, "What do we do now? What sense can be made of my death?" That's why I wanted to make this film. To give audiences the chance to think about these things. In the first half of the film their sympathies are with Roberto and his plight, but in the second half their sympathies are with Luisa and what she's going to do after Roberto's death. This is how I found the rhythm for this film.
Guillén: You're known for your repertory casting, using the same actors again and again in your films. I was watching your early shorts, specifically Mirindas asesinas (1991), enjoyed the central performance of Álex Angulo, and then noted you cast him again in The Day of the Beast (1995). And the actor who played the doctor in La Chispa, I've seen in your other films. What is the value of repertory casting for you?
De la Iglesia: I love to work with friends! When I'm writing a script, I'm already thinking ahead to what face I will need. I love to work with the same pieces in this chess game. John Ford did this as well. He always worked with the same actors. I love to work with my friends and with people that I know.
Guillén: How then do you negotiate the problem of audiences identifying more with recognized actors than with the characters they're intended to portray? Because, admittedly, as a filmmaker you're trying to create a fiction, an illusion, so does the fact that their faces are familiar hinder your storytelling in any way?
De la Iglesia: But that's what I'm trying to do! I know I need a certain kind of face or a certain kind of reaction so that makes me use the same actor again who I know will give me the reaction I need. I know, "This guy is good to say this sentence or that dialogue." At the same time, to make movies is a game. For example, José Mota is not really an actor; he's a comedian. I mean he's a wonderful actor for me, but in his "real" life he's a comedian. He primarily works on Spanish TV. So it was something of a shock to Spanish audiences that I cast José Mota in a serious role, which was like casting Jerry Lewis in a serious role. Martin Scorsese did just that when he cast Jerry Lewis in The King of Comedy (1983). The idea to use José Mota in La Chispa de la Vida was a joke, a bit of a naughty joke, because I needed a comedian to make this drama work. I knew it would put the audience in an uncomfortable space because they expected to see this guy crack a joke and suddenly there's no joke. I knew it would upset audiences to see José Mota suffering. It's not exactly my idea. Scorsese already did this with The King of Comedy. Using a funny guy to tell a sad story.
Compared here and again to Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole (1951), La Chispa de la Vida is arguably de la Iglesia's most accessible film to date, though some might argue it is de la Iglesia-lite. Further, as noted by Jonathan Holland in his Variety review, the literal translation of the film's Spanish title (The Spark of Life) would be not only accurate but more appropriate since "The Spark of Life" references the successful advertising slogan that made an aging and down-on-his-luck publicist a one-shot wonder for the Coca-Cola company. Just as Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas) fanned a media blaze around the tragic plight of trapped miner Leo Minosa, an equal fervor surrounds beleaguered Roberto Gómez (José Mota) who—after an accidental fall in the ruins of an ancient coliseum—has found himself pinned to a life-threatening situation. As Panamá IFF's program note details: "From there we're taken on a non-stop freak show of desperate civil functionaries trying to conceal their liabilities, media network execs showing their money teeth to get exclusive rights to broadcast live the agonizing drama of Roberto's family, and the vulture audience that fills the classic coliseum where the events unfold."
Director, producer, writer and cartoonist Álex de la Iglesia holds a degree in philosophy from the Universidad de Deusto. His career in film began with the short Mirindas asesinas (1991) and his first feature film was Acción mutante (1993). His provocative dark comedies such as The Day of the Beast (1995), Perdita Durango (1997), Muertos de risa (1999), The Commonwealth (2000), 800 balas (2002), Ferpect Crime (2004), The Oxford Murders (2007) and The Last Circus (2010) have earned him a celebrated following few Spanish directors enjoy. His films cross borders and genres, and have helped bring new audiences to the world of Spanish-language cinema. Because of his ability to transcend, to travel and engage across the boundaries of language, de la Iglesia was fêted with a five-film showcase at Panamá IFF. [This conversation is not for the spoiler-wary.]
* * *
Michael Guillén: Álex, what I appreciate most about your films is that they are genre hybrids and that, as a spectator, I can feel when you are shifting from one genre into another. Arguably, La Chispa de la Vida could be understood as a horror film in the sense that the dilemma of your protagonist Roberto reflects the horror many people are currently experiencing as victims of the economy, losing their jobs, and being unable to control the corporate forces negatively impacting their lives; but, at the same time, your film is a comedy. Is that particular sensorial quality of shifting from one genre to another something you intentionally work into your scripts?
Álex de la Iglesia: It's not that conscious of a process; but, I have to say that's how I feel life works. I can't believe in just one genre because I don't trust people. Nobody's just honest. Nobody's just humorous. It's always a mixture within each person. Everything is mixed. In every day of your life you will have beautiful moments, honest moments, and dignified moments; but, you will also have ridiculous moments. It's all mixed up together.
Let's say you go to a funeral and—as you are standing there beside the grave—you realize how the life you had with this guy is suddenly dead. You feel all the love and remember the beautiful and funny moments you had with this guy. And you begin to cry. Then suddenly something stupid happens and you can't help but laugh. Because nothing is perfect. Nothing works. In the same moment that you are suffering, you are laughing and vice versa. One moment you're having a really good time with your friends when, suddenly, your soul takes a big hit because someone comes up to you to tell you your mother is dying or your father is dying. Nothing is perfect. Life is a confusion of sentiments. Thus, it's absolutely impossible for me to make the kind of genre film that an audience might expect and adore.
I love genre films. I love comedies. I love dramas. I understand that the work of cinema is to know the feelings caused by certain genres to best express life. But I can't make a film in just one genre because, as I said, life isn't like that for me. For example, in La Chispa de la Vida there's the scene where the main character Roberto is talking with his son and says, "Hey, now we'll have money. And now you can do whatever you want in your life. Try to be free. Try to be honest with yourself." In that intimate moment his son unknowingly steps on him and—seeing his dad in sudden agony—asks, "Dad, are you dying?!" To which Roberto answers, "No, you're stepping on me." [Laughs.]
Guillén: Both dark and funny, yes. Along with Mota's lead portrayal of Roberto, I was particularly impressed with Salma Hayek in the role of Roberto's wife Luisa. For me, she embodied an integrity that went past surface appearances.
De la Iglesia: I don't want to destroy everything. I don't think that's fair. We need some kind of dignity. In this movie, that dignity is in the hands of a woman. Salma plays Luisa, a regular woman, a normal wife, who tries to be charming for her husband and honest with her family and her relationships; but—in this moment of crisis—she realizes that she has made a big mistake. She has been encouraging her husband, telling him, "Someday you're going to win. Someday you're going to get a job"; but, at the end this is not possible and she realizes that trying to be positive all the time has been a big mistake.
Guillén: There was that moment of exquisite suspense when Luisa is offered the valise of money in exchange for media rights. The film sardonically skewers so much hypocrisy up to then, that you don't quite know if she's going to take the money or not. I was glad she didn't and grateful for that grace note of integrity.
De la Iglesia: Though many people in Spain have asked me, "Why didn't she take the money? It would be better for her family and would give them financial security."
Guillén: That particular scene likewise accentuates a characteristic rhythm in your work. Often your films go to excess and then—as in this scene where Luisa walks past the valise of money—you suddenly exercise restraint, which restores dignity.
De la Iglesia: Thank you very much for that. That is the idea of the movie. The idea of the film is about what happens to people when they don't have time to think about what to do? Because, in truth, that's how life often is. Everything rushes by so fast that a person doesn't have time to think much past the moment. They don't know what to do about the future. Suddenly they find themselves near death and they wonder, "What do we do now? What sense can be made of my death?" That's why I wanted to make this film. To give audiences the chance to think about these things. In the first half of the film their sympathies are with Roberto and his plight, but in the second half their sympathies are with Luisa and what she's going to do after Roberto's death. This is how I found the rhythm for this film.
Guillén: You're known for your repertory casting, using the same actors again and again in your films. I was watching your early shorts, specifically Mirindas asesinas (1991), enjoyed the central performance of Álex Angulo, and then noted you cast him again in The Day of the Beast (1995). And the actor who played the doctor in La Chispa, I've seen in your other films. What is the value of repertory casting for you?
De la Iglesia: I love to work with friends! When I'm writing a script, I'm already thinking ahead to what face I will need. I love to work with the same pieces in this chess game. John Ford did this as well. He always worked with the same actors. I love to work with my friends and with people that I know.
Guillén: How then do you negotiate the problem of audiences identifying more with recognized actors than with the characters they're intended to portray? Because, admittedly, as a filmmaker you're trying to create a fiction, an illusion, so does the fact that their faces are familiar hinder your storytelling in any way?
De la Iglesia: But that's what I'm trying to do! I know I need a certain kind of face or a certain kind of reaction so that makes me use the same actor again who I know will give me the reaction I need. I know, "This guy is good to say this sentence or that dialogue." At the same time, to make movies is a game. For example, José Mota is not really an actor; he's a comedian. I mean he's a wonderful actor for me, but in his "real" life he's a comedian. He primarily works on Spanish TV. So it was something of a shock to Spanish audiences that I cast José Mota in a serious role, which was like casting Jerry Lewis in a serious role. Martin Scorsese did just that when he cast Jerry Lewis in The King of Comedy (1983). The idea to use José Mota in La Chispa de la Vida was a joke, a bit of a naughty joke, because I needed a comedian to make this drama work. I knew it would put the audience in an uncomfortable space because they expected to see this guy crack a joke and suddenly there's no joke. I knew it would upset audiences to see José Mota suffering. It's not exactly my idea. Scorsese already did this with The King of Comedy. Using a funny guy to tell a sad story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)