It's the conclusion of a short month in which my movie watching behavior diverged from the usual in that I didn't watch that many movies and that I watched a lot of not just new-to-me but actual "new" movies. The number of films watched was due to a combination of work and being distracted by other things but the watching of relatively recent films has everything to do with the Film Independent Spirit Award screenings which happen annually at the Walker Art Center here in Minneapolis. I believe that the only other organized screenings of the nominees is in LA, so it's very cool that the Walker and Film North have been able to collaborate on these and make them available to people. My other awards season tradition that I was able to keep alive this year was to watch all of the Oscar nominated animated shorts. This is something we usually do at the theater but our best chance to do so was cancelled on account of the tremendously shitty weather we've been having. I'd encourage you to catch them theatrically but they are all available online through a variety of sources. Incidentally, I haven't watched the Academy Awards in decades but for some reason I cling to these buzzy, awards season rituals.
The Rubber Gun (1977) - Kicking things off with an appropriately obscure, not-new film - The Rubber Gun - from Allen Moyle who would go on to make Times Square, Pump Up the Volume, Empire Records, and others. This is an extremely loose, student theater counterculture Canadian curio that is both fascinating and possibly irritating. It's mostly driven by the irrepressibly verbose performance from Stephen Lack that I found nearly impossible to reconcile with his famously deadpan aspect in Scanners. I confess that I sometimes overrate films based on their value as a document of a time and place while overlooking their shortcomings as an actual feature. It's entirely possible that I'm doing that here, but I love art weirdos of the late 70s and early 80s and I've also been fascinated with what the folks over at Canadian International Pictures are excavating. I think this is worth your time and would love to see a physical release (probably from CIP) with some extra features/interviews for more context.
All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022) - Speaking of art weirdos of the 70s and 80s, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is a tremendous documentary chronicling Nan Goldin's opioid crisis activism, her personal biography, and tying in threads from the NYC Downtown Scene and the ACT UP movement. Laura Poitras' film keeps the focus firmly on Goldin's organization PAIN and their efforts to remove the influence, money, and name of the Sackler family from art institutions all around the globe. It's an important story and one that could have easily encompassed the entire documentary. However, I think the genius of the film is how it weaves in portions of Goldin's biography, her career, and her intersections with other artists and movements. Poitras lets Goldin and her work tell the tale and never devolves into a talking heads commentary (as much as I might appreciate John Waters or Jim Jarmusch or others playing raconteur). There's an exceptionally moving section detailing the Goldin curated exhibition, Witnesses: Against Our Vanishing, which is essentially narrated through archival footage and recordings of David Wojnarowicz. This film was a much needed message of positive, effective activism and gave me several more things to watch, read, and think about. It's easily the film I've recommended the most from everything I saw at the Indie Spirit Awards screenings.
Murina (2021) - There were multiple films concentrating on daughter/parent dynamics that screened for the Spirit Awards and while I think the best of them may have been Aftersun, I feel like Murina deserves some more attention. It's an incredibly assured directorial debut from Antoneta Alamat Kusijanović featuring a strong lead performance from Gracija Filipović. Shot on location on the Croatian coast, Murina is a frequently tense drama with some stunning photography - above and below the water - from Hélène Louvart. Louvart has shot some notable pictures including 2018's Happy as Lazzaro which also happened to be co-produced by Martin Scorsese. In fairness, filling my eyeballs with Mediterranean vistas before I walk out into the dark of a Minnesota February might have been enough to win me over but I think some really solid work was done here. Looking forward to more from everyone involved.
Police Python 357 (1977) - If combining The Big Clock with Magnum Force while injecting the result with strong Melville-ian vibes sounds like your kind of thing, have I ever got the film for you. Yves Montand stars as a cop defined by his work (and his choice of firearm) who finds himself in a cat and mouse game regarding a slain lover. Montand plays the the consummate professional but in a deeply alienated, solitary way. Even if you know the plot beats of The Big Clock, I think this is going to hold some wild surprises for you. The beginning simmers but the eruption had me gasping at times. I watched another Alain Corneau/Yves Montand collaboration last month: Choice of Arms. I found it a little slow at times and wondered why Catherine Deneuve had so little to do in it but Gerard Depardieu gives a positively unchained, physical performance which I loved.
Wish You Were Here (1987) - Another directorial debut, this time from also actor and also screenwriter David Leland. I can't recall how Wish You Were Here wound up on my watch list, but I'm happy that it did. I do love a good coming of age film and the post-war English setting was convincing, but the real attraction here is the standout lead performance from Emily Lloyd - herself only 17 or so at the time. Emily's Lynda is rebellious, profane, and effortlessly charming as she torpedoes the staid middle-class mores surrounding her.
