1Notes From The Program Director
Notes
Hello everyone!
I’m sorry we’ve had to say goodbye to Nope, but happily, the wonderfully compelling Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song sticks around for another week; we’ve got some very cool special events; and we’re opening a couple of very different but equally compelling films (both directed by up-and-coming women directors, no less!): Murina and Bodies Bodies Bodies
The fabulous Murina is a Martin Scorsese-produced film by writer-director Antoneta Kusijanovic. Kusijanovic is someone who’s been in the film world for a number of years, but this is her first feature film. And what a debut!
Kusijanovic is certainly someone to watch for in coming years, and it is no surprise that Murina was awarded the prestigious Golden Camera award (Caméra d’Or) at 2021’s Cannes Film Fest. The film, notably, too, was shot by cinematographer Hélène Louvart, who also did brilliant work on two recent favorites of mine, The Lost Daughter and Never Rarely Sometimes Always. It looks every bit as fantastic as those two films, and all three films showcase what the uniquely happy marriage of a director’s vision and cinematographer’s skill can mean.
Murina is a coming of age story, a psychological family drama, a feminist film, that, much like The Lost Daughter, centers on the psychology of a flawed and very human woman, in this case, the 17-year old Julija, played by fantastic newcomer Gracija Filipovic.
The film opens on two figures, a man and woman free-diving with spears, going very deep and clearly holding their breath for a very long time. It’s the kind of scene that makes you instantly worry about oxygen, and the tension only increases as the scene goes on. It’s a tension that is finally broken by a scuffle between the two people, both apparently going after the same moray eel (in Croatian, “murina”).
We soon learn that this isn’t a man and woman couple, exactly, but a man and his teenage daughter, Julija, and the tension of that first scene–the longing for oxygen, the scuffle for power and control–become the overarching themes and emotional undercurrent of the film.
The man, Ante, is controlling and certain he knows what is best for Julija: he’s decided she’ll follow in his path, go into the family business, and continue diving with him. But she’s just as good a diver and eel-hunter, as it were, as Ante, and her silent compliance to his demands in the beginning of the film becomes more and more clearly a sign that something, sometime, surely, is going to break for her, where she’ll no longer comply.
The tension ramps up when an older, close friend of Ante’s comes to visit and Julija falls in love with the idea of him: a father-figure kind of man who treats her (and her passive mother) more as an equal, as she believes, and a man who seems to be the opposite of everything she hates about her oppressive father.
Much like The Lost Daughter, the narrative is a game of psychological tension and repressed feelings, set against a glorious Mediterranean landscape, a seeming paradise of sunlight and tanned bodies and sparkling water. The film is a beautiful instance of how a filmmaker uses the apparent peace of the setting to make the internal turmoil all the more vivid and unsettling.
It’s, truly, a fantastic film, and it’ll be here only one week. You won’t want to miss it! (I’d also recommend this excellent interview with Kusijanovic on The Business recently.)
A really good genre film is rare, and Bodies Bodies Bodies is a delightful entry in the horror genre: it delights in genre-play as many good genre films do — self-aware without being too self-conscious — and it boasts a tight script and an ending that offers a satisfyingly clever reveal that’s equally bleak and funny and that reshapes one’s perception of the narrative itself while lightly underscoring the film’s thematic implications.
Additionally, if you’re a sucker, like me, for murder mysteries and, specifically, Agatha Christie, this film, while firmly in the horror genre, also has been aptly described as an iteration of one of Christie’s more famous mysteries, And Then There Were None. Part of the pleasure of the film is not just the scares but the guessing of the whodunit. (And I would love to hear from you if you guess the film’s whodunit before the “who” is revealed!)
The film is beautifully cast, too. I know there are a few folks out there who are Pete Davidson-ambivalent, but the plot serves him very well (it’s honestly just great), and the focus, in any case, is primarily on the robust ensemble of up-and-coming young women actors: Maria Bakalova (please also go watch Borat Subsequent Movefilm just for her brilliant performance there), Rachel Sennott (whom you may know from the fantastic Shiva Baby), Amandla Stenberg (The Hate U Give), Chase Sui Wonders, and Myha’la Herrold. They are all excellent, and they play both the comedy and the horror of the film, as well as the tensions among their characters in such a way that each character leaves an indelible impression. Unlike so many horror films, where some characters are disposable, no one here falls into that category. And on a final note about the cast, I can’t not mention Lee Pace, whose inclusion in this group of 20-somethings is odd — and exactly right, as you’ll see when you watch the film.
A final note about the film’s marketing: Truthfully, I was initially worried, based on the trailer, that the film would be a bit too cute in its commentary on the supposed foibles and flaws of the Gen Z cohort. The tagline — “this is not a safe space” — is frankly off-putting (if not offensive, relative to the real need in our world for actual safe spaces), but after watching the film, it’s clear to me that my concerns reflected a marketing problem rather than a film content problem. The film itself doesn’t actually mock its characters with Gen Z cheap-shots. It’s a lot smarter than that in revealing its characters’ flaws. And while it could, perhaps, go a bit deeper than it does in its cultural commentary, it’s ultimately a smart, very fun film that I suspect viewers will want to watch twice — at least!
A few notes about our special events this week: Don’t Look Now, Starship Troopers, and Storyteller’s Seasonal: Bodies Bodies Bodies, the second feature film from Dutch actress/director/producer Halina Reijn, could not be more different from Murina. Where Murina is a narrative drama that’s less about plot points than about the emotional and psychological beats, Bodies Bodies Bodies plants itself firmly in the horror-comedy genre, and the genre-playfulness and specific twists and turns of the plot are essential to the film’s vitality and fun.
A really good genre film is rare, and Bodies Bodies Bodies is a delightful entry in the horror genre: it delights in genre-play as many good genre films do — self-aware without being too self-conscious — and it boasts a tight script and an ending that offers a satisfyingly clever reveal that’s equally bleak and funny and that reshapes one’s perception of the narrative itself while lightly underscoring the film’s thematic implications.
Additionally, if you’re a sucker, like me, for murder mysteries and, specifically, Agatha Christie, this film, while firmly in the horror genre, also has been aptly described as an iteration of one of Christie’s more famous mysteries, And Then There Were None. Part of the pleasure of the film is not just the scares but the guessing of the whodunit. (And I would love to hear from you if you guess the film’s whodunit before the “who” is revealed!)
The film is beautifully cast, too. I know there are a few folks out there who are Pete Davidson-ambivalent, but the plot serves him very well (it’s honestly just great), and the focus, in any case, is primarily on the robust ensemble of up-and-coming young women actors: Maria Bakalova (please also go watch Borat Subsequent Movefilm just for her brilliant performance there), Rachel Sennott (whom you may know from the fantastic Shiva Baby), Amandla Stenberg (The Hate U Give), Chase Sui Wonders, and Myha’la Herrold. They are all excellent, and they play both the comedy and the horror of the film, as well as the tensions among their characters in such a way that each character leaves an indelible impression. Unlike so many horror films, where some characters are disposable, no one here falls into that category. And on a final note about the cast, I can’t not mention Lee Pace, whose inclusion in this group of 20-somethings is odd — and exactly right, as you’ll see when you watch the film.
A final note about the film’s marketing: Truthfully, I was initially worried, based on the trailer, that the film would be a bit too cute in its commentary on the supposed foibles and flaws of the Gen Z cohort. The tagline — “this is not a safe space” — is frankly off-putting (if not offensive, relative to the real need in our world for actual safe spaces), but after watching the film, it’s clear to me that my concerns reflected a marketing problem rather than a film content problem. The film itself doesn’t actually mock its characters with Gen Z cheap-shots. It’s a lot smarter than that in revealing its characters’ flaws. And while it could, perhaps, go a bit deeper than it does in its cultural commentary, it’s ultimately a smart, very fun film that I suspect viewers will want to watch twice — at least!
A few notes about our special events this week: Don’t Look Now, Starship Troopers, and Storyteller’s Seasonal:
Don’t Look Now is part of our staff-curated monthly Third Eye series, and it’ll play on Saturday, at 10 pm. Tickets, as always, are only $5! This month’s selection is from projectionist extraordinaire Ashland Cross.
Of Don’t Look Now Ashland writes, “Nicolas Roeg’s 1973 film is a fascinating rumination on a couple grappling with the grief of loss, encapsulated into one of the most mystifying and beautiful horror movies of all time. Shot and set in Venice, the city’s labyrinthian design serves as a backdrop for Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie’s attempts at navigating their fracturing relationship. Masterfully crafted by British director Nicolas Roeg at the height of his sensibilities, the cinematography and editing remains unparalleled to this day and makes this film the zeitgeist of ‘70s psychological horror. The notoriety garnered from its controversial-for-the-time sex scene, bizarre narrative construction, and indescribable ending have cemented Don’t Look Now as a North Star of cult and arthouse cinema.”
Starship Troopers, on Tuesday at 7:30 pm, is part of our exciting new limited series, Shock and Awe: The Films of the Dubya Years, a series curated by Brandon David Wilson and a series for which we are partnering with another arthouse, L.A.’s American Cinematheque.
Check out our new Aug/Sept print events-calendar for more about the theme and purpose of the series, but here’s Brandon’s explanation of the film:
“It is easy to think you’re smarter than Starship Troopers but that’s a mistake. Even though it was released in the Clinton Era, no film more accurately foretold the Dubya Era and its cycle of terrorism giving way to military adventurism like Paul Verhoeven’s adaptation of the Robert A. Heinlein novel. Verhoeven drew on his memories of growing up in the Nazi-occupied Netherlands to tell a story which he sums up as “war makes fascists of us all.” We follow a group of teenagers from their utopian high school days and watch them become hardened warriors for their totalitarian state after a devastating attack from an insectoid alien race. Mixing satire, dazzling special effects, and Verhoeven’s impressive staging of combat, Starship Troopers blurs the line between rousing American action films and fascist propaganda in a way we now understand all too clearly. Ensuing presidencies may have shattered our vision of ourselves, but thanks to Verhoeven and his crew, we cannot say we weren’t warned.”
For our Shock and Awe series, Brandon will be giving introductions to the films — a recorded introduction for this week’s Starship Troopers, and a live virtual introduction for the second film in the series, Shortbus.
(NOTE: The screening for Shortbus will be followed by a live Q&A with director John Cameron Mitchell! Brandon and Mitchell will be in person at American Cinematheque in L.A., and we’ll get to hear their conversation in real time, piped directly to our screens. It’s gonna be fabulous! Mark your calendars for August 25. Shortbus tickets are available now: https://www.pickfordfilmcenter.org/shortbus-2006/ )
Finally, Thursday at 7:45-8:45 pm is the Storyteller’s Seasonal, a quarterly competitive event that celebrates the brand new short films of local filmmakers; audience members vote for their favorite film and that film is declared the winner. The winning filmmaker then chooses the next quarterly theme, around which filmmakers will create new short films. Come help us celebrate the creative filmmakers among us! Tickets are only $5.
It’s a great week for the movies. See you there, friends!
Melissa
Hello everyone!
The brilliantly entertaining and subtly complex new film from Jordan Peele, Nope, continues for one final week this week. Be sure to scan our lobby before the film and see if you can spot our special equestrian tributes and the UFO (or is it UAP?) Daniel Kaluuya is looking at, the one that temporarily shorted out our track lighting. (Yes, really!)
I Love My Dad: It’s been a while since we’ve had a comedy on our screens, and I’m delighted to bring this one to the Pickford, starring a comic great like Patton Oswalt no less, and with supporting turns from the always delightful Rachel Dratch and Lil Rel Howery. This film, of course, is more of a comedy-drama than a straight comedy, and the premise, based on the writer-director James Morosini’s real life experiences, was just waiting for a movie: a dad, worried about his son and desperate to be involved in his life, invents the Facebook persona of a young woman and reaches out for a connection. Much to the father’s delight, his son accepts the connection; and then, much to the father’s horror, his son falls in love with this invented young woman. He falls, in effect, for his dad.
And it only gets more comically, painfully awkward from there. It is both very funny — and deeply discomfiting, often both at the same time. And the fact the writer-director Morosini plays himself (quite brilliantly), as the son, acting out his own life as it were, only underscores the depth of the feeling the film elicits. There’s nothing quite like watching someone playing themselves on screen and knowing: “this actually happened. To that person. Right there.” There is, too, though, a kind of comfort in knowing Morosini somehow made it out of the situations we watch him in, and he lived to tell the tale. Or rather, lived to perform it.
I suppose not everyone is a fan of what we might call “discomfort-comedy”: watching people, out of their own hubris or missteps or increasingly bad decisions, work themselves into the most socially awkward situations, but there’s a deep sincerity and vulnerability in this film that makes the discomfort more human than cruel. That’s due not just to the reality the film represents, as I noted above, but also to the writing and the performances in the film: we equally follow the dad, played by Oswalt, and the son, as played by Morosini. And in this equality of depiction, it becomes difficult to judge either character too harshly for their decisions: however bad a decision it was for the dad to fake a persona and keep that persona up, the writing and performance help us understand it. And however naive it might seem, on paper, for Morosini to fall for a person he’d never met in real life, the writing and performance also help us see and empathize. Ultimately, it seems to me an extraordinary feat: to make a comedy that works as a comedy while also truly sympathetically exploring the really really really bad choices we human beings can make.
Morosini’s own statement about the film also gets at why the film works so well. He saw the comedy of the situation, but he wasn’t interested in a gimmick: he, himself, wanted to understand, through film, what had happened to him. He writes,
“When I was 19 my dad and I got into a huge fight and I decided I was never speaking with him again. I blocked him on my phone, online, everything. Weeks later I got a friend request from a pretty girl on Facebook and I was thrilled. She was perfect. We shared the same interests, she was gorgeous… Things were looking up. Unfortunately, she was also my dad. He had created the account to make sure I was okay.
I wrote I LOVE MY DAD to try and understand why he thought this was a good idea… In retrospect, it might be the most loving and fucked up thing anyone’s ever done to me.
I’ve long been a fan of discomfort comedy. I laugh the hardest when I’m the most uncomfortable. A film about a father essentially catfishing his son could quickly turn dark, so we often found ourselves playing on a razor’s edge. We’ve all made questionable, impulsive decisions. By embodying the father’s avatar from the son’s perspective, I wanted audiences to be both cheering for and against this terrible plan. It was an exercise in empathy to try and get an audience to understand why someone could do something so wrong for the right reasons. Creepiness comes from not knowing, so as long as I could always make it clear why Chuck is catfishing his son, we’ll be on his side and almost shocked we’re rooting for him. Luckily, I also had a phenomenal cast to achieve this effect.
The son of a holocaust survivor, my dad’s a Jewish immigrant from Argentina and is the funniest and most complicated person I’ve ever known. I wanted to capture all of the pain and joy of our relationship together. The push and pull, the struggling to connect and understand… Within the heightened context of this bizarre, elaborate ruse.
If you were wondering, today, my dad and I have a great relationship. He saw the film for the first time when it premiered at SXSW. During the screening he leaned over and said, “this is a really good movie.”
This movie is for you, dad. I love you with all my heart.“
Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song: To be fully honest, I thought I’d be fine with maybe never hearing the song “Hallelujah” again. I thought it’d been done to death. From its ubiquity in pop culture and covers, to videos of every earnest teenager posting videos of themselves online singing it, it was an earworm that I thought needed retiring. At least for a good long while.
But what I found in watching this documentary is something rather magical: what I’d perceived to be the uncomfortable overuse of a song, was deflated through the film by a reattachment of the song to Cohen himself and by a reattachment to that indefinable Something in the song that made it so beloved in the first place.
The film recaptures why so many people sincerely adore “Hallelujah” — their iterations of it are not necessarily without fault and the collective overuse might be at times tiresome, but the true passion for the song that the film reveals, represents something that’s hard to mock: a very human reaching for the eternal, or for that ineffable Something that so many want desperately to be in contact with and that Cohen’s song mysteriously and perfectly captures. The sincerity of the love is hard to dismiss. And the song itself, well, it does somehow reach down in the depths of one’s soul when you let it, and there is a true delight in watching the film trace the song’s journey into the collective consciousness, through the song’s various iterations and through various individuals’ rapturous receptions of it.
The film also covers some truly wonderful biographical stuff about Cohen himself, including utterly delightful tidbits of interviews (how does he so often manage to be so casually profound??) and things about his life I was unfamiliar with. A Jewish friend of mine noted to me he’s always wanted a “Leonard Cohen is my rabbi” bumper sticker, and the film helped me understand why: there’s nobody quite like this poet-philosopher-singer-songwriter. And maybe more people than I, knew about Cohen’s first reluctant appearance on stage, forced there almost, by Joan Collins, who saw something in his work that needed to be shown to the world, but I didn’t, and it — the telling of it, the clips of it — is utterly captivating.
It’s a film that lingered with me a long time after I watched it. It’s just that kind of film, capturing a truly unique soul. (And did I add a bunch of previously unfamiliar Cohen albums to my phone’s playlist? Absolutely!)
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