DVD Review: Renaissance Village (NTI Upstream; 85 minutes)

Often lost in the story of the event that has taken on a life of its own, Hurricane Katrina, are the individual stories of those who lived through it. Both sides of the political seesaw have used the tragic flooding of one of America’s great cities, and the subsequent displacement of its poorest residents, whether it be the Left’s seeing “Katrina” or “The People of New Orleans” as the prime example of Government indifference to the poor, or the Right’s blanket dismissal of the victims of the storm as those who were too lazy and stupid to seek higher ground.

Renaissance Village restores focus on the victims themselves; not as symbols, but as flawed, complex individuals, each trying to recover in their own fashion. The title refers to the name of one of the FEMA resettlement camps. FEMA had set up several areas where RV’s were supplied to residents, who would remain there, in theory, for a specific time until they got back on their feet. Renaissance Village was built in rural Baker, LA, just outside Baton Rouge, 91 miles from New Orleans. Federal guidelines in the Stafford Act mandate that groups must close after 18 months. Yet by 2007, 1700 of the original 3000 people still lived there. Most were African-American and from poorest wards of the damaged city.

Narrated by NO native Wendell Pierce and directed by Gabe Chasnoff, the film focuses on the frustrations and hopes of the residents, each in their own way trying to make sense of what was lost and to figure out how to rebuild from nothing. We meet the mechanic Paul, who is both disgusted by the government’s actions and by residents who feel sorry for themselves. Herbert sells candy and soda out of his trailer, since the nearest convenience store is miles away and few residents drive. He is later evicted from the Village for this activity.

There are also Thelma & Gwendolyn, who share with the film crew their common histories of food and racism. We watch as they cook and drink beer, each musing about plans to move out, plans that fall through. It is painful to see the women slowly lose some of their defiant hope as their options dwindle.
The star of the film, and the most powerful voice in the Village (aside from a foul-mouthed pre-teen who delivers some devastating lines at various points in the film) is Wilbert Ross, the de facto “President” of the Village Council. In addition to being the spiritual leader of the residents, exhorting them to stay strong and to unite against the increasing federal neglect, he also is a vibrant member of the card playing, drinking, dancing to Al Green heart of the small community.

Local lawyers and Catholic Charities do their best to help secure services, extensions of residency, job search and relocation. Even FEMA, rightly vilified as they are for their ineptitude during this whole crisis, tries to help, though it is obvious their representatives prefer the distance of trying to “help the people,” rather than hear the real needs of those people.
The film takes an unexpected turn when a resident dies from formaldehyde poisoning. Apparently the RV’s procured by FEMA had high levels of the poison, and since they weren’t meant to be lived in for so long, residents began getting sick. Also not helping was the fact that the heat and humidity was so oppressive in the summer months, many residents remained inside the trailers all day long, often with the doors and windows closed. Vain attempts at community organizing and public meetings produce only official grandstanding. Eventually each resident drifts away toward the next stage of their fate. The film leaves that fate open.

Shot over 13 months beginning in May 2007, Renaissance Village is a warts and all portrait of vulnerable but resilient folks, angered and traumatized by tragedy, who fight to rebound and reclaim a space they can call their own. This is as much a story of pride as it is about betrayal; in its light shed on the true lives of the victims of Hurricane Katrina (and its aftermath) it makes the invisible visible.

Book Review: The History of Independent Cinema by Phil Hall

Even limiting the scope to American film, Phil Hall set for himself a daunting task in The History of Independent Cinema (Bear Manor Media). Despite the title, this is not so much an exhaustive, definitive look at films outside the studio system, as it is an entertaining read that covers the major players, recalls some artists we may have forgotten, and always reminds us that this is a subjective work.

One of the joys of surveys like this is that readers may be exposed to filmmakers they’ve never heard of, and will go searching on their own, and maybe make a connection. Another salacious joy is being able to argue with the book over obscure filmmakers left out—what, no Richard Kern? And, Gasp!—no Andy Milligan? Hall’s book in that sense is almost pure joy.

The book follows a more or less chronological account of Independent Cinema, from early attempts by Thomas Edison to set up his own outside-Hollywood monopoly, through Chaplin and Preminger, Warhol and Cassavettes, down to today’s variety of auteurs ranging from Michael Moore to Guy Maddin. The last quarter or so of the book provides brief overviews of subgenres like "Race Films,” Non-Theatrical films, Educational Films, Musical documentaries, the Cinema of Transgression, etc. Hall chose to focus his attention on the major players, those whose contributions made a significant impact on both filmmaking and the viability of Indie film. So no, no chapters on porn or exploitation flicks. He also reminds us of independent cinema’s role in breaking down racial and sexual taboos as well as in such technical advances as color film, wide-screen formats and sound.

It would have been nice to have had more discussion about the state of cinema as it stands now. Hall does talk briefly about both of the major developments impacting independent cinema in the 21st century—major studies making Indie-esque niche films, and the explosion of filmmaking made possible by cheap technology, viewer savvy and outlets like YouTube and MySpace. We are truly in an odd place where everyone can make a film and send it out to millions, but no one notices…because everyone can make a film.

Each chapter concludes with a Top 10 list by selected filmmakers and critics, who note their choices for the most influential independent films of all time. (Disclaimer: IDT film editor Matt Sorrento's list is included, though he had adsolutely no say over this review!) Such lists are bound to both overlap and contradict; while it is interesting to read about those choices, after awhile they begin to seem like filler. Again, part of the fun of books like this is to make your own lists, with the text as a guide to making your choices in context. While geared toward a general audience that may not be quite up on the history, film fanatics will also find much to chew on. Aside from sparking debate, there is obscure info sure to be fodder for trivia-questions.

Hall, contributing editor to Film Threat and author of other books that take the pulse of non-mainstream film, has taken a vast wealth of history and moments of daring and distilled them into a breezy narrative that gives the reader a detailed overview, one that leaves room for consideration about today’s indpendent work.

As Yogi Berra might have said, there are so many films out there now that no one sees any. Now more than ever, literally anyone can add their own visual paragraph to film history, though standing out among the thousands being shown right now on the web or available on DVD is a crapshoot.

Film historian Phil Hall, watching in the wee hours.

DVD Review: In The Realms of the Unreal: The Mystery of Henry Darger (2004; Fox Lorber)

Henry Darger has become a celebrity of sorts within the last decade or so, providing dealers and collectors with another cash cow in the Outsider Art genre (a genre that used to mean work done by artists outside of the mainstream, but now is a genre where critics and curators hold the final say on who is really an “Outsider Artist”). He was a hidden genius and has also, like Kafka, given hope to those whose one last shot at an audience will have to come through a posthumous discovery.

In The Realms of the Unreal provides a brief overview of Darger’s life, from early childhood through to his death and, most importantly, post-mortem, when the true nature of the man and his life’s work was discovered. To all the world, Darger was a loner and most likely a loser. He spent a good deal of his childhood in a Catholic youth home, placed there by his father when he was no longer able to care for the boy. His mother had died shortly after childbirth. Ironically, Darger later spent time in the same nursing home where he placed his father as his health declined. A janitor at a Chicago Hospital, friendly but not very much so with the neighbors in his apartment building, Darger was probably invisible even when looking someone in the eye. That apartment was his refuge, a haven for delving into his deepest creative life. His neighbors, with whom he probably barely spoke, nonetheless looked after him; it was they who discovered his genius while cleaning out Darger’s apartment after his move to the nursing home. His interior life was a rich as it was obsessive and, quietly, that world produced a singular style of work centered around a single story, one that waited for strangers to show to the world, strangers responsible for his discovery, the same people who thought him odd, heard him talk at night to himself in various voices of both sexes.

His life’s work, the creatively staggering The Story of the Vivian Girls, in what is Known as The Realms of the Unreal, of the Glandeco-Angelinnean War Storm, caused by the Child Slave Rebellion, was begun in 1940, and continued until his death in 1973. He incorporated fairy-tale, fantasy, military history, and his experiences as a youth into, literally, an entire new world, one that only he inhabited, one that might have died with him. With hundreds of battle scenes (each army with their own flags and uniforms, all created by Darger, and civil War buff) and odd watercolors of hermaphrodite children (there is some hint in the film that Darger was unaware of female anatomy), he also used his art to tell the story. It is this mixed media style, with its obvious innate sense of composition, that is truly staggering. Amazing too is his seemingly singular lifelong obsession with the story. He most likely spent his days on the menial job dreaming of the V-Girls; he may have even acted out their exploits once safely at home. Several former neighbors report in the film of having heard various male and female voices coming from Darger’s apartment, though he never received any visitors.

In addition to the hundreds of notebooks piled in his room containing The Story of the Vivian Girls, there were also several volumes, decades upon decade’s worth, or notebooks devoted to another passion: the daily weather. While on the outside, it seemed that Henry Darger was an inconsequential man shuffling through his days, on the inside he was bursting with stories and ideas that, though partially informed by whatever childhood trauma and mental challenges he faced, were as developed and executed as if by the hand of a master. In his way, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Written and Directed by Jessica Yu, the film moves amiably among chronological narration of Darger’s life, imagined sequences from The Vivian Girls, and interviews with his neighbors and landlords. Larry Pine serves as Darger’s voice, and Dakota Fanning has a duel role as narrator and Vivian Girl. The interview with landlord Kiyoko Lerner is especially revealing. Her obvious artistic temperament and curious eye was the crucial piece in Darger’s work not only being found, but appreciated enough as a unique effort worth preserving.

In The Realms of the Unreal fascinates and gives hope to all who secretly hoard their painting and writing. Maybe one of your neighbor’s kids will visit a yard sale some day and make you immortal.

DVD Review: Points on a Space Age (MVD video)

Maybe the old bit about a prophet not being accepted in his own land could have been upended if the prophets had had decent musical chops. A hip sense of rhythm might make prophecy go down easier. At least that proved to the case with Sun Ra. Sun Ra and his Arkestra were more than an adventurous big band that from the 1950s on used space motifs with a blend of free jazz and bop to create some of the most mystical jazz. Of course there were many who couldn’t see past some of the trimmings of the band’s image—the costumes, the Space Age fixation and, most of all, Ra’s own claims of extraterrestrial origin. As is clear from this documentary, the remnants of the band show that they take the message quite seriously. The Arkestra was and is a way of life as well as a long term gig.

Directed by Ephrahaim Asili, who discovered the band for the first time in Philadephia in 1998—as the band left a festival stage during a rain shower to lead the crowd in an impromtu parade—Points on a Space Age is a 60-minute doc along the lines of the talking-head-intercut-with performance clips style. This works because of the interesting and passionate nature of the images of the band as well as of the audio, as the band attempts to articulate what Ra meant to them, and why they are keeping the flame alive. He “left the earth” for his next mission in 1993.
The remnants of the band include Marshall Allen, Ra’s greatest discliple as well as current bandleader and keeper of the flame. Now 86, Allen also serves as recruiter for new members, and potential converts of Sun Ra’s philosophy, once based on space travel and music as a tool for evolution into a new consciousness and tuning into holy vibrations.

The film follows the band as it rehearses, and plays small gigs in school auditoriums for what seems like family and friends. The intimacy of the shows are a nice contrast to the expansive, and at times outrageous, aura surrounding the band. The flowing teflon robes and Captain Video helmets are as outre as they were in 1959, though they may have lost a bit of visual value. Interviews with various members—unnamed in the film—serve to illustrate their commitment to the music and how Ra’s philosophy has guided their life. This is no joke: the members of the band are convinced they are on a spiritual quest, and they trust completely in instruments and in their guide.

The influence of Sun Ra is hard to calculate. He was there when some jazz musicians were beginning to drift off into tangents that embraced improvisation and the use of the music itself as a religious tool. There are echoes of Ra in late 60s Coltrane as well as in that era’s early Free Jazz players. Points on a Space Age does not ask Allen about the early days, and the band members interviewed talk more on how the experience effected them personally, rather than historically. The film does not place the band in a context that helps the viewer see any progression of Ra’s ideas. There are short vintage clips, but a quick scan of the web reveals a treasure trove of classic Arkestra footage. More here might have bene helpful. Overall, the film does a good job of showing not only the talent, but the friendship and solidarity of the band; old and new members clearly feel a part of some cosmic event whose power is still ongoing. Newcomers to the music and philosophy of Sun Ra and His Arkestra might need to fill in the gaps in their knowledge, but the film will surely give many the inspiration to do so.

Saving the Westmont: Interview with Theatre Historian/Activist Allen F. Hauss

by Phil Hall (reprinted from Film Threat, April 18, 2009)

For the serious movie lover, there are few things more depressing than a theatre that is shut down. The rise of the conglomerate-owned multiplexes in the 1970s helped to speed the decline of many independently owned community theatres, and today many of the smaller venues exist only as memories or remain as locked, defunct structures awaiting restoration or the wrecking ball.

The Westmont Theatre in Haddon Township, N.J., is typical of the latter scenario. It first opened in 1927 with the Lon Chaney flick “The Unknown” on the big screen. Over the years, the theatre was southern New Jersey’s primary venue for first-run films, and one of its most dedicated patrons was a young Steven Spielberg, whose family lived in Haddon Township in the early 1950s. In 1973, the theatre was one of only 30 U.S. theaters to present the opening of “The Exorcist,” and in 1979 the Oscar-winner “Kramer vs. Kramer” was sneak previewed at the Westmont (Dustin Hoffman showed up for the test screening).

But 1979 was also the last peak year for the original Westmont. It was divided into a twin theater, then sold to the AMC. In 1986, AMC shut down the theatre. It was used by a local drama company in 1992, and in 1999 the local government of Haddon Township purchased the venue for $280,000. In 2007, filmmaker Brent J. Donaway made the theatre the subject of his documentary “The Grand Old Lady."

Allen F. Hauss, acting president of the volunteer advocacy group Neighbors Celebrating the Westmont and author of the book “South Jersey Movie Houses,” spoke with Film Threat on the push to restore The Westmont to its former glory.

Why is there a need to restore this old-time theatre?
Camden County, New Jersey, in its entirety and all of Haddon Township is severely lacking in the arts. Other than the small theatre at Rutgers University in Camden, the county is without a major performing arts building of the size or technical capabilities of the Westmont Theatre. The theatre's location, on Haddon Avenue, locates it on a main corridor serving Collingswood, Westmont, and Haddonfield with easy access by public transportation, including PATCO – and, as such would be the main anchor or "draw" for the entire corridor.

The theatre was designed by two important and well-known Philadelphia architects: David Supowitz and William H. Lee, and is the only surviving example of their work in Camden County. The Westmont Theatre is the last remaining vaudeville/film theatre in all of Camden County, and is a glorious representation of the "Golden Age of Film and of Movie Palaces."

What is the current state of the theatre?
A visual structural inspection report on the theatre was completed and issued on November 16, 2007, by Remington & Vernick Engineers, of Haddonfield, NJ. At that time, they suggested specific repairs in the amount of $66,000 to maintain the building's structural integrity. Even though this maintenance is a requirement in the lease of the building, and even though funds are set aside in a special account for this purpose, nothing has been done to maintain the building.

The interior lobbies are in excellent shape, as are the restrooms on all levels. The main auditorium was divided into two with an easily removed sheet-rock wall when the theatre was twinned in the 1980's. The original stage proscenium was removed when a large CinemaScope screen was installed, but could easily be rebuilt. The rest of the stage and fly-house is in excellent condition.

How much would it cost to restore The Westmont?
It would take approximately $8-9,000,000 to restore the theatre to what it once was. This funding would come from a variety of state, federal, and private sources, especially if a 501(c)3 non profit is organized to operate the facility as a true performing arts/film facility, and once it has been placed on the state and national historic registries. This model has performed with great success in hundreds of theatres throughout the United States.

What level of support/feedback from the New Jersey arts community and from the state’s historic preservationists are you receiving?
At this point, all support and feedback have been on an informal basis, as the non-profit has not been formed, and the application for the historic registries are still in progress. However, the Neighbors Celebrating the Westmont (NCW) has received much support from the community, including the local branch of TD Bank painting a mural of the theatre on an entire wall, and giving away free reproductions of that classic scene.

How can movie lovers can get involved in helping your effort?
People can get involved with the activities of the NCW by checking our blog (http://westmonttheatre.wordpress.com/) as well as the Haddon Township blog (http://haddontwp.wordpress.com//) and the site of the Haddon Township Historical Society. (http://www.haddontwphistoricalsociety.org/).

Jim Jarmusch Clips and Trailers: Coffee & Cigarettes, The Limits of Control

Been thinking about the effects of coffee and saw this Jim Jarmusch clip (from Coffee and Cigarettes) on alternative medicine recently. Good stuff.

Jarmusch's The Limits of Control is out this month. Here's the trailer:

DVD Review: Helter Skelter

Given that in August it will be the 40th anniversary of the shocking Tate-LaBianca murders, it is as good a time as any to revisit Helter Skelter, which, after almost thirty years, still holds up its suspense and power well. This is easily one of the best made-for-TV movies, created back when there was an art to such projects (Roots, Duel, Frankenstein, The Reincarnation of Peter Proud, etc).

The obvious reasons for the film’s continued resonance are the facts of the murders themselves, as well as the man behind them. A murder story that had Satanism, bikers, hippies, Armageddon, constant orgies, Hollywood start power and a guru claiming to be Christ was a gift from above to lurid media and its purveyors. Charles Manson not only continues to fascinate and intrigue; his mix of fairly solid borrowings from Buddhism, Scientology and the then-nascent Environmental movement with a grim vendetta against the world (mostly women) who he blamed for all his problems still attracts crime fans as well as pathetic would be hipsters who think he’s cool.

The film is a fairly straight take the 1974 book about the case by prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry. Originally, the film aired over two nights in 1976, and was a smash hit. At the time, the film also caused a bit of a shudder, since it ended with the warning that most of the Family sentenced to life (commuted from Death when California outlawed capital punishment in 1972) would be eligible for parole in 1978.

Sparing you the details of a story too often told, I will say that the cast is amazing, especially in the passion they bring to the various roles. While George DiCenzo, a dead ringer for Bugliosi, has a lot of face time as the hero who nabs the evil one, is convincing and solid, it is Steve Railsback as Manson that makes this film endure. His crazed but oddly wounded take on Charlie, complete with hypnotic eyes and gift for foaming at the mouth invective, is haunting. Nancy Wolfe’s Susan Atkins is a bit over the top, but that is relative in a case like this. Also worth noting is the actor who portrayed Paul Watkins, the Family member Manson entrusted with procuring him women—or, as he liked to say, “new love.” Watkins was the one who Bugliosi interviewed about Helter Skelter, and it was Watkins who provided insight into Manson’s connecting The Beatles with the Book of Revelation for his eschatological master plan. That scene is one of the most powerful in the film, and one of the most genuine.

Even before the book and film, some cracks in Bugliosi’s theory were showing. Former Fug Ed Sanders’ 1971 book The Family explored the idea of a drug burn as motive, and also made more of a connection between Manson and the satanic group The Process. Still, it is Bugliosi’s account that stands as the historical record, despite what Charlie might say when he is paraded out in front of the cameras for an interview or parole hearing, or, when news is slower, someone decides to point a microphone in the direction of at large and still True Believer Sandra Good.

In 1976, with the horrors of the murder still fresh in the national memory, Helter Skelter made for gripping, uneasy viewing. While that factor may no longer be part of the experience, there is a power to the film and is undeniable and lasting.