Screen Scene
SCREEN SCENE
By John Carlos Cantú
Editor's note: The films reviewed in this month's column have all been produced by resident Ann Arbor filmmakers. These films are available for viewing at no charge with identification at Liberty Street Video. Liberty Street Video's manager, Laura Abraham, says they win gladly add other locally produced films to their "Local Filmmakers" 'department. For more information, cali 663-3121.
STONEY DOES HOUSTON
[1992. Directed by Bob Hercules. Cast: Stoney Burke and more Republicans than you can shake a fist at. Ann Arbor Community Access Channel 9. 15mins.]
Dig him or not, Stoney Burke- Ann Arbor's resident soapbox philosopher - gets the job done.
Who else would venture into the bosom of the Grand Old Party's heartland to seek what truth lied in the heart of the then Bush administration? Burke's director, Bob Hercules, does a remarkably thorough job of covering everyone who was anyone at the 1992 Republican National Convention held at the Astrodome on August 17-20, 1992. The Republican Party of that year is quickly examined in decisive strokes from top to bottom within the limited resources of public access television.
Likewise,Burke's"take no prisoners" approach to his quarry on the convention floor creates some fabulous Cinéma vénté. Bruce Willis' smirk has been nabbed intact; Robert Novak pontificates with worldly wisdom; Pat Robertson pontificates with otherworldly wisdom; and Alfonse D'Amato proves himself to be the reigning jerk of American politics. The wonder of Stoney Does Houston is just that: How did he do Houston? On a couple of occasions Burke identifies himself as a PBS reporter (at least now we know why Congress is so busily hammering public broadcasting!). But far more important: How did he snare the credentials to pull off this scam? It's too good to be true.
On a more mundane level, Burke does what any decent reporter is supposed to do: Ask the hard questions. In fact, Burke does such a good job of asking these questions, he highlights much of current media's inability to do its job. For disclaimers about journalistic legitimacy aside, there are very few journalists - and particularly very few television reporters - who are willing to bite off the serious issues of the day.
Stoney does so with an "in-your-face" vengeance.
Given that the atmosphere of any political gathering is surreal, Stoney Does Houston has a definite surreal ambiance. But whether exploring the delegates' odd behavior or getting them to discuss their political and social beliefs, Burke proves himself to be a champion interviewer with a capital "G" for guts. He takes as good as he gives and the exchange between himself and his subjects is as fine an example of political journalism as is likely to seen between now and the millennium.
Just one hint, Stoney: Next time around, visit the Democrats. The results may not be quite as humorous, but their responses will no doubt be equally edifying.
A HANDFUL OF SPUDS: VOLUME 1
[1993. Directed by Harley Danner. Cast: Harley Danner, John Beals, Lori Kane. A Spuds Production. 60 mins.]
This video is for that unholy of all nights when going to the video shop is an exercise in futility. That is, when one is vacillating between drama or comedy; documentary or experimental filmmaking; and/or topicality or nonsense.
Sometimes it's just so hard to make a decision. But take heart bleary-eyed viewer. A Handful or Spuds: Volume 1 has got it all.
Lord only knows if there's a filmmaker in Ann Arbor who is working harder than Harley Danner, but it seems unlikely. The six shorts that comprise this volume run the range from yuks to gloves...and then some. These shorts --"The Bike Ride," "I Can Do That!," "The Elliptical Woman," "Gymsplatter," "God's Gift to Women," and "Hands Off"--run the range from neo-Woody Allen to post-synchronization. Granted the quality of Danner's shorts fluctuate wildly, but at least the man is putting himself squarely on the line.
Of these half-dozen films, the most successful is "I Can Do That!" Weighing in at five minutes, Danner and John Beals comment thoughtfully on athletic dreams and athletic realities. And the sheer absurdity of the short - with its decisive punchline - makes "I Can Do That!" as much of a physically inclined comedic treat as the best of John Belushi.
Likewise, "Gymsplatter's" graceful gymnastics editing makes this four-minute production a gem of a documentary. It also doesn't hurt to use the James Cotton Band's "Booger Thing" for his soundtrack. Danner proves himself to be a handy man with the editing booth in this far-sighted featurette.
As with all satire, it's sometimes difficult to tell where Danner is putting us on and where the amateurism of his ensemble begins. "The Bike Ride," "Hands Off," and "God's Gift to Women" all pursue pointed social topics, but the effort of working in front of and behind the camera markedly strains his resources.
This is, however, a very minor quibble. There's a good-natured lunacy in these shorts that redeems A Handful of Spuds: Volume 1. There's not much question but that Danner can - and will - improve upon his craft. But what is more important is that he's walking the walk. . .and taking us along for the joyful ride.
CHAMPAVERT
[1994. Directed by Deron Albright. Cast: Matt Hubbard and Jill Ripple. Rank Productions. 11 mins.]
All those who understand Champavert raise your hands. . .slowly.
On a first viewing this short film is enigmatically cryptic and the going doesn't get much easier after another half-dozen viewings.
Indeed, the film seems to get murkier on each successive screening. This exceedingly brief black and white tale is one of the most abstract films in this viewer's memory. On the other hand, Champavert's Super 8 millimeter cinematography is a distinct plus. The grainy black and white transfer to videotape is as eerie as anything committed to camera. Like all fine works of art, repeated viewing deepens the film's visual lustre.
There's a nightmare taking place in this psychopathic study though it's not exactly dear who is dreaming. Matt Hubbard plays the main character, Champavert, exceedingly broad. He's a blond rage of nervous energy whether smoking a cigarette, scribbling a note, or kicking apart a television set. By contrast, Jill Ripple's Flava is a study of deady introspection whose sudden outbursts of anger culminate in an unexpected matricide. What remains is best left to the imagination of each viewer.
Deron Albright's direction is a mingling of David Lynch as funneled through the claustrophobia of Henri-Georges Clouzot and the carnage of Sam Peckinpah. His restless camera is a silent witness to the disconnected events that unfold in the film. But a mute witness is also a helpless witness and this sense of helplessness permeates the film from its first frame to its unsettling conclusion.
The screenplay is apparently adapted from Petrus Borel, yet Albright's narrative abstraction makes literal interpretations untenable. Champavert is instead one of those rare motion pictures that works solely on a subliminal level. With a portentous soundtrack taken from Krystof Penderecki's "Dies Irae," Champavert is a surrealistic venture into non-logical thinking.
Albright finds fertile territory on the other side of madness in an imaginary world where nothing more than superfluous details make momentary sense. Champavert is a psychological Chinese box disguised as a murder mystery. We're taken on a visit to a counterintuitive universe where distant voices beckon us into the arms of insanity.
RATING KEY Acting Cinematography Direction Editing Narrative Sound Special Effects
When a symbol appears following a title, it implies that the corresponding category is a strength of the movie.