"It wasn't made for human beings, it's only good for snakes and funerals"

Capitalism: A Love Story (Michael Moore, 2009)

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 03:36:38 GMT

Weary with no (inhabitable) apartment of my own to go to and after a rather alarming talk with the Super, I decided to go to the movies. I picked up my freshly dry cleaned coat, hopped on my bike, and made out into the night. Approaching Koreatown the cold wind blowing across Christie Pits Park froze me to the bone. As I pressed on through the Annex I passed a "bomb diffusing" truck. Was that a joke?

I got to the Cumberland Cinema and to my dismay read a note on the wall about their "new Tuesday night pricing". What this means is that movies are still $10+ but they give you a concession voucher for a drink and a snack. Ok, I thought. "So" I said nervously anticipating the inevitable, "I don't suppose I can get a coffee with this?"

"No only these fountain drinks." Sugary cola drinks. Not my cup of tea. So as I made my way to the escalator I see all these Yorkville types going through the same spiel:

"Coffee?"
"No, just these drinks."
"Coffee's a drink!"
"I'm sorry, sir."

They were still going on about it as I took my seat.

How nice it was to be out, I thought, even if I was at the movies alone. I took out my phone and texted Amy about the bomb diffusing truck I saw before I shut off the ringer.

"You know" one of the other patrons said to the woman beside him, "I bet that the coffee costs the theatre LESS than the cola."

"I know, dear."

I tasted the coffee that cost me $2.50 cents. Worth every penny. This is some precious Chris escape time. Can't put a price on that.

Then I noticed my phone ring. Not by the sound but by the glowing screen and the words, "Incoming call."

"Hello?"
"Hello? is this Chris?"
"Yes."
"This is David calling, I wanted to speak with you about something."
Strange. Why was my landlord calling at 7pm on a Tuesday night? "Oh, well you'll have to call me back in the morning. I'm in the cinema right now."
"Humph, and why is it that you can't speak with me right now?"
I didn't like his insinuating tone, and inability to listen. It seems that often landlords only ever comprehend 40% of what you say to them. "Because, as I said, I'm AT THE MOVIES. a FILM is about to START. Can we talk later?"
"Well," he said in a huff, "What I have to say won't take long. I have a letter with your signature that states the reason you are moving out. This letter is dated three months ago. So I don't very much appreciate you going around to the other tenants and spreading falsehoods. I think we've been very good to you."
"I'm sorry," I said, breaking in, "Could you repeat the bit about other tenants?"
"Hanoke [the Super) explained to me today that you're going around to the tenants and saying that you're leaving because of an infestation."
"Really?" I said, "Because that's the first I've heard of it. If you want to know what happened I'll tell you. I asked him if he's told the other people on our floor about the infestation, he said that he won't. I asked him what he's going to do about it, and he said nothing, that there's no use in trying to resolve the problem.I don't know what your problem is, but I don't have time to talk about it right now-"
"WE HAVE BEEN VERY GOOD TO YOU" he said, interrupting, "So you better be careful who you talk to-"
"I beg your pardon!!" I said, not realizing that people in the theatre were starting to take notice.
"No!" he answered back, in his shitty, illiterate Canadian accent, "There is no pardon to beg, I'm a lawyer, you better be careful!"

And with that, my creepy landlord, who makes threatening phone calls in the evening hours, hung up on me.

I was so upset that I couldn't follow the details of how the US economy was set up to fail. And yet, I did hope that this would be the best Michael Moore film yet. SiCKO, was really promising, I thought this would be the coup de grace. But it wasn't quite.

Bad Timing (Nicolas Roeg, 1980)

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 01:37:33 GMT

Dysfunctional relationship, voyeurism, and a crime are the three pillars this film stands on. Stylish editing, a young Harvey Keitel, and a hip, Euro-setting are one thing, but Art Garfunkle's suits are probably the most exciting thing here.

"They ring you, the telephone me!"

Where the Wild Things Are (Spike Jonze, 2009)

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 02:35:15 GMT

After the movie we got hot chocolate. We debated whether to continue down Richmond or go up to Queen. The latter was more promising for hot chocolate but also, according to Amy, promising for "hipster d-bags". It was a nice night and we passed the Rivoli and noticed a fairly long line. Normally I wouldn't think much of that but then it hit me:

"Paul F. Tompkins is in town!"

So we asked if there were tickets at the door and sure enough there were. We lined up and started scouring the scene for FOTs. We made a positive ID on a casual Best Show podcast listener standing in front of us.

Jokes! A real date!

If I go out and it's not a show or a film it's basically the most novel thing ever.

Ziemia obiecana / Land of Promise (Andrzej Wajda, 1975)

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 14:31:42 GMT

I have liked everything by Wajda that I have seen. Everything.

This one is no exception. This shows the industrial revolution in Lodz where capitalists scramble over each other to turn a buck, workers get maimed and abused, and everyone can fall into disaster at any moment. Lodz seems pretty exciting here. Wajda's camera is alive, not simply portraying a storybook drama about days gone by, but instead a camera that moves with purpose, frames elegantly, and flares in the sun as horse drawn carriages bounce by.

The images of the Catholic priest blessing the factory is the perfect image. There is no moral center in the modern world and there is no one externally to step in to stop the madness. The strike at the end, barely alluded to and ending in a massacre leaves you unsettled. And it should. This is some heavy Polish.

When great, modernists like Wajda are gone I feel that there will be no one left to take their place.

A Serious Man (Joel & Ethan Coen, 2009)

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 10:50:57 GMT

I can't shake this movie. It's been almost a week now. At about the half way point I was thinking to myself, is this a repudiation of their religion? Or something else entirely? They're definitely working at being provocative yet funny at the same time. And they provoke reactions as severe as this. What does it mean? There's some wiggle room for interpretation. Two things jump out at me, though. First, we are alone in the universe. That much is certain. Second, I like to think that Joel and Ethan are having fun 'playing god' on the character of Larry Gopnik. In an interview at TIFF they said something to the effect that the most amusing part of making the film was thinking of more horrible things to happen to Larry. Tradition is one thing but the closest thing to god that we'll ever know are writers. And the Coens write like a cruel god who puts his subjects through the harshest of trials.

Good satire seldom leaves me feeling this strange. Part of me is wondering why they couldn't just get all Richard Dawkins on us?? I know I can just go see Capitalism: A Love Story if I want to see a film with a clearly defined point of view. But still, it just seems like they're too smart for their own good. It's like they're making us laugh, but also making fun of us.

Reel Injun (Neil Diamond & Catherine Bainbridge, 2009)

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 02:02:18 GMT

I got there twently minutes before the inaugural film of the ImagiNative Film Festival. I got in line which wrapped around the block down Albany Avenue. I love that feeling of not know if I'm gonna get into the film or not. That feeling of not knowing if people I know will meet me in time and the feeling of being caught in the energy of strangers' expectations. We got in and sat on the second balcony.

The movie was a documentary with a tame, made-for-TV feel which I imagine has a lot to do with its backing. Still, it's a good topic of discussion. I also thought it was funny and enjoyable that Nick Drake was on the soundtrack.

Deconstructing Harry (Woody Allen, 1997)

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 06:43:10 GMT

I saw this in highschool. Not in the highschool, that would probably be forbidden, but when I was highschool aged, and when this was relatively current. This seemed to be a really great period for Allen, apart from the whole personal life meltdown that was happeneding, the films he made in this period were neat, daring, and fun. I only realized halfway through the re-watch that the film is a much more irreverent version of Bergman's Wild Strawberries but with some Dickens' A Christmas Carol thrown in there.

I love the boozy hedonism of the Allen character that always seems on the verge of meltdown. A terminal jerk. The play on depraved het-male sexuality. And the idea of characters going "out of focus". Amazing!

It's not as mindblowing as when I first saw it, but still holds up pretty darn good. Yup.

Baadasssss Cinema (Isaac Julien, 2002)

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 17:16:05 GMT

I have never seen bell hooks before. I've only ever read her. Her contribution was that academics and nostalgic film buffs project a lot of revolutionary meaning onto Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song (1971) after the fact, but that it was really just about money plain and simple. Someone once told me that what was brilliant and revolutionary about blaxploitation movies was the way they used stereotypes. That they were a put on. That Foxy Brown getting into a brawl in a lesbian bar is such a perfect image that ideologically deconstructing it would be useless. That some shitty, stereotypical images are just so great that to argue against them is a great constraint on oneself that should be avoided at all costs.

And what's with Tarantino? Can he calm the hell down? He gestures so frantically when he talks it's like he's flagging down a helicopter. Makes me nervous. Is it the coke?

The Lost Weekend (Billy Wilder, 1945)

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 03:25:37 GMT

Well, this film is as good as any instance to tell you this: I've decided to give up alcohol for the month of October. I got the idea when I was in a waiting room and flipping through a copy of GQ Magazine. In it, some New York contributor described his experience not drinking for a similar amount of time. He reported on how his social circle reacted, how his day to day routine changed, how he physically felt different, how his mental state was affected, and lastly the dough he saved. He recommended that readers give it a shot, if for nothing else to examine the role it plays in your life.

Yes, Ray Milland's character is hallucinating bats in this still.

Anyway, it’s been a week now and it's been fairly interesting. I've only had two occasions where alcohol was really a part of what was going on, but on neither occasion was it a big deal. Also, in both instances, it seemed that my temperance may have altered the course of the night no matter how much I insist that those around me carry on as they would otherwise. I feel that more and more this is not going to be the case.

Another thing: I find that I stay up so much later now, which is a habit that I had gotten over in the last year or so. It seems that coming home completely lucid and sober means that I start getting flashes of inspiration in the middle of the night and all of a sudden have to mix down that four track recording, or work on a song I was thinking of, or make lists of random things: band names, vegetables, chores, rather than sleep.

I was hoping it would mean that I would read more but, sadly this isn't the case. The internet still reigns as the Queen of Distractions and I simply end up blogging more. And watching absurd amounts of movies.

On the whole it's not really that hard, and it's nice to save some money. But we're still pretty early on, and there's bound to be several more occasions for intrigue.

Port Huron Project (Mark Tribe, 2008)

Wed, 07 Oct 2009 01:55:16 GMT

From the website:

The Port Huron Project was a series of reenactments of protest speeches from the New Left movements of the Vietnam era. Each speech took place at the site of the original event, and was delivered by an actor or performance artist to an audience of invited guests and passers-by. Videos of these performances have been screened on campuses, exhibited in art spaces, and distributed online as open-source media.

We saw the Stokely Carmichael, Cesar Chavez, and the Angela Davis one. There seemed to be uncertainty regarding the worthiness of the project. What's the point? Why is this art?

I didn't mind though. I think one of the things I liked the most was the parallel temporality of the speech text and the present moment that the film was made. You look a the crowd and you see a guy with a blue tooth, woman with a misfits t-shirt - basically people dressed like they dress now - which sort of forces you to assess what the success and outcomes of the New Left's efforts were. The film confronts you with the question: if revolutionary culture did not break out, what did?

I liked what the Angela Davis said about the inevitability of American defeat in Vietnam, which instantly recalls that America (and Canada et al) is currently being defeated in Afghanistan. So you can, in a sense, easily link American imperialistic intervention in Vietnam to its vicious attacks on the civil rights movement, labour movement, and ghettos. But this model doesn't quite fit Afghanistan, does it?

Gangs of New York (Martin Scorsese, 2002)

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:38:10 GMT

I thought it was weird that with all the neat historical detail in this Scorsese basically ignored the labour movement. That aside, this was pretty enjoyable. It's like a melodrama with blood. In the best possible sense.

The Lawnmower Man (Brett Leonard, 1992)

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 04:08:28 GMT

Last night was Nuit Blanche. I missed it last year and made sure to check it out this time around. But first I went to see Tyvek who were pretty cool. They play a unique kind of stripped down music that made a basic power trio a bit more dynamic in a way that's hard to describe in words.

We set out for the Toronto Reference Library which was supposed to be having an all-night dance thing. I basically pictured a dance party. But i was actually large scale dance lessons. Each hour two pro dancers would teach a dance and then everyone would grab a partner and do it. We arrived at around 2am during Salsa hour. It was crowded and I didn't have a date so we left disappointed. Still, although I'm loathe to admit it, I'd never been to the Toronto Reference Library. "Look, Chris, look above you! This is a library!!" Indeed. I shall return.

Next stop was Massey Hall. So we headed down Yonge. Dundas Square was crowded as hell. We locked up our bikes. It was getting to be 2:30 and I felt like a coffee. There was only a Starbucks but it has a lineup out of the door. But that was nothing compared to the linup around Massey Hall which snaked around the whole block. Total bust.

"Let's go to 401 Richmond." (401 Richmond is a historic factory in the heart of the downtown that has been converted into a artsy office space and gallery/studio space). The bars are open later during Nuit Blance and the subway runs all night. To get to 401 Richmond we had to go through "The Entertainment District" also known as "Club Land". They were spilling into streets already and cabs were clogging the streets. We arrived at 401 just before 3 and still hadn't seen any of this free art. There was a real coffee place that I could go to which was great. We got into the building but only saw a screening outside of what looked like 50s surf movies on 16mm, an interactive installation that was wrapping up, and Trinity Square Video where we saw a video piece that I'm going to write about later in this blog.

We left after about 40 minutes and headed for Trinity Bellwoods park. There were more drunks than art. However there was a gigantic lightbright board set up in which multi colour-tinted empty water bottles served as light brights. Dudes crowded that thing pulling lightbrights out and putting them back in. The overall picture was a mess of colour.

At that point my companions headed home. I soldiered on.

I headed down to Liberty Village. The drummer of my band works for the city and was ushering a piece that was installed in an all-night grocery store. The installation was Invade by a Taiwanese artist named KUO I-Chen. The problem is they set up $10,000 worth of sound gear and a giant projector, but they couldn't turn off the lights in the aisle because the lights were set up horizontally but the aisles run vertically. So when we were supposed to have the effect of the plane flying overhead it was actually pretty lame sincel you could barely see it. It was 4:30am and there were security guards sleeping in staked cases of orange crush. I said good night to Alex and went looking for this bike exhibit that was supposed to resemble these transient makeshift homes in Japan. But All I saw was this giant, glowing membrane in the middle of Liberty Street entirely constructed of pylons. It was gettin close to 5am and the streets were still quite full of people wearing blankets, drinking, laughing, and carrying giant letters.

I took Gladstone north, all the way home. As I locked up my bike I thought it was a drag that the art wasn't super exciting, but I still felt pretty happy to live in a place that even puts things like this on.

When I got home I couldn't sleep, so I started mixing down my band's demo and that kept me up until 7am. The end.

Oh, and Lawnmower Man wasn't nearly as cool as when I saw it in 1993. Then, it seemed to be the coolest thing I'd ever seen. Now, it resembles a made-for-TV movie in comparison. But I still like when all those telephones go off at the end. And the idea of consciousness being downloaded into a network. That seemed like a really fresh and original idea. In that sense it shares something in common with Videodrome in which the O'blivion character's body is dead but he lives on in the form of video broadcasts. In this case the lawnmower dude's body dies, but he lives on through network connections. LONG LIVE THE NEW FLESH!!

Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983)

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 07:59:17 GMT

I love Toronto in this movie. It looked so lonely and simple. Even when the streets were full they had this lovely emptiness to them.

It's funny to think about magnetic tape and broadcasting as a medium for rearranging our minds. I guess pirate & UHF stations were a thing of that moment in history, but it seems sort of mild compared to what was coming.

I liked the part with O'blivion's daughter showing Max the videotapes that she uses to keep her father alive 'as best she can'. It was neat to think of how he was dead, but neatly archived on these tapes which can be recycled and reused to spread this message.

The intersection between sex and violence was weird in this film. When you think it's going to be offensive or terrible, it's more cerebral and un dude-like. I feel like in Cronenberg movies it's the absence of violence in his films that are freaky.

I wonder how this film would seem compared to something like, They Live (1988), and if that still holds up. I haven't seen it in awhile.

The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky, 2008)

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 16:34:45 GMT

The Wrestler makes me wonder if the notion of the "real" is something that's sorely lacking in American filmmaking. A good story or good acting is one thing, but cinema has a lot of trouble working its magic with CGI and green screens micromanaging the frame at every step. There's a shot in The Wrestler where Mickey Rourke's character is sleeping in a van. He's locked out of his house, which is more of a narrow cabin or trailer. When neighbourhood children wake him up and he comes out, tired and beat, he plays with them and jokes around for a minute. It's impossible to describe what makes the scene stick, but when I was watching it I felt like I was seeing something I'd see in a European, a Middle Eastern, or an Asian film. A certain, slowed down, literary sensibility. And I think it has something to do with indexical nature of the film being shot in a "real" location that somehow bridges the gap in our mind between the spectacle and a sense of the "real". You don't see it a lot anymore, but the use of available light in films, the use of real locations, and non-actors has a really satisfying feel to it when it's handled well.

Pumping Iron (George Butler & Robert Fiore, 1977)

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 15:56:06 GMT

16mm film documentaries have a certain something that hasn't been recreated since the 50s when they were introduced. There's something sneaky and magical about the format that I can't quite put my finger on. It may be visual cues that I pick up from the vérité movement's *style* but there's also something in the constant focusing, lens flares, and movement. There's a warmth present in films like Les Raquetteurs (1958) or Don’t Look Back (1967) that I do not feel is present in something like An Inconvenient Truth (2006) or Up the Yangtze (2007). I think that warmth is a part of the format.

Pumping Iron points to a subdued kind of childhoood trauma, highlighting how phsychologically damaged many of them must be. Consider the eerie and troubling relationship between Lou Ferrigno and his overbearing, mono-maniacal father; or the fact that a lot of their fathers come from figures of authority - both Lou and Arnold's Dad's were police chiefs, one from Brooklyn (yike!) and one from fascist Austria (double yike!!).

I couldn't help but read the bodybuilding as a form of male rebellion. They highlight that many of them were indeed wimps as children and subject to teasing. This bodybuilding could be an outward way to combat the despair they feel living in a world that they cannot excert authority over otherwise. This rebellion makes me think of a not-so-obvious, but perhaps all-too obvious comparison: the punx!

Think about it: Pumping Iron is to bodybuilding what a film like The Decline of Western Civilization (1981) is to the punks. Butler and Fiore's masterpiece behooves us to compare them.

Here we go:

(1) Bodybuilders undergo intensive body modification such as muscular weight gain, tanning, and use of drugs to build body mass.

Punks also practice body modification in the form of piercing, tattooing, and use drugs - in their case to get fucked up.

(2) Body builders take pride in the ritual self-inflicting of pain, such as the multiple reps of heavy weights to build muscles.

Punks also romanticize pain and suffering. Take Henry Rollins who would brag about getting kicked in the head at shows, getting beat up by cops, or the fact that Black Flag even have a song called "Life of Pain".

(3) Both bodybuilders and punks experienced a golden age in California.

Star Trek (J.J. Abrams, 2009)

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 03:26:53 GMT

I don't get it. All I heard about when this came out was all about how good it was. How in exceeded expectations. But to me it was like the Star Wars prequels or that last Indiana Jones movie. It was almost not a movie at all but like...really expensive fan fiction.

Though it's nice to see Wynona in a movie again.

So much for my sci-fi excursion.

District 9 (Neill Blomkamp, 2009)

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 00:05:55 GMT

If anything this demonstrates that we've now reached total saturation point on all mockumentary/faux-reality perspective from films from Blair Witch to Cloverfield. At some point it no longer makes the giant fish-aliens look more legit if the whole thing looks like bad TV. Luckily it doesn't stay with that format for too long and eventually plays out like a more conventional mainstream sci-fi film. The allegory isn't subtle but it's nice anyway. I like that they made a point of making the cops a private defence contractor. This way we zing apartheid AND the Bush administration all in one. Zing zing!

Ran (Akira Kurosawa, 1985)

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 23:43:05 GMT

This film is perfection. Dark, bloody, relentless, Shakespearian perfection. When I first saw this I was writing a paper on it. I watched it on fairly crappy VHS. After the first 160 minute run through I sat down at the desk across the room from the television. I let the VCR automatically rewind and replay the film over and over as I read Donald Richie and worked out the thesis and points of argument for the paper. I think I watched it three times that night. Once straight through, and then two more times occasionally looking up from the computer screen and the books and papers. I remember I wrote the essay in century font for some reason. When I went to bed it was really late. And all I could think about were the images of war, which were not gratuitous or glorifying battle; the scene in which the terrifying Lady Kaede's head is cut off; and the closing shot on the ruins of the Castle, where the blind character drops the image of the Buddha.

The Hangover (Todd Phillips, 2009)

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 23:13:45 GMT

I just made a pretty enjoyable meal that was basically improvised. It involved red onion, red pepper, zucchini, and dates (fried) with a splash of soy and balsamic vinegar and some crushed garlic. I put that on rice from the rice maker with a bit of margarine and salt. The dates make it extra enjoyable. The mix of sweet and savory is smashing. SMASHING!

Film for Invisible Ink, Case No. 142: Abbreviation for Dead Winter... (David Gatten, 2008)

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 04:31:50 GMT

This looked great. It was apparently done using ink-and-cellophane tape transfers on a single sheet of paper. Images of (I'm told) paper fibres, but the blacks and greys that rupture on screen create wonderfully abstract textures over selected passages from Darwin. It's nice that people in the avant garde are still working with celluloid (it says 16mm in the production notes).

According to his bio on his web page the Brooklyn-based Gatten is interested in the intersection between the printed word and film. He teaches 16mm filmmaking as well. I hope I see more of his stuff.

A Letter To Uncle Boonmee (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2009)

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 04:19:01 GMT

Part of a multi-platform project. This was really nice. The images were so clean and sharp. The camera was so steady and otherworldy the way it crept through interiors and gazed wistfully at exteriors as the voiceover wonders, "'Uncle... I have been here for a while. I would like to see a movie about your life. So I proposed a project about reincarnation."

A mix of fatique, and the hypnotic sounds of this project made me nod off at least three times. I feel like amonster admitting that here, but I remember straightening myself up when my head began to fall. When I awoke I could only wonder if I imagined that dark, ape-like monster in the forrest or not.

Le streghe, femmes entre elles (Jean-Marie Straub, 2009)

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 04:07:35 GMT

I remember it beginning with music playing along side a black screen. It seemed to carry on like this for several minutes. Still, this didn't prepare me for the first image - which was pretty great looking - because I had trouble following what was said. It was very stagey, figures faced to the camera, reciting Cesare Pavese’s Dialogues with Leuco. But there's not much I was able to do with that.

Une Catastrophe (Jean-Luc Godard, 2008)

Fri, 18 Sep 2009 14:40:18 GMT

Godard's one minute short film is a collage of images and sound. It typical Godard fashion there's a dialectic in the disconnect between sound and image. The image: scenes of Potemkin (1925), suffering, war, text, a slowed down scene from People on Sunday (1930); the sound: grunts and sounds of a tennis match, a piano, poetic recitation. Instantly I'm reminded of the 'Hell' portion of his last feature, Notre musique in which he juxtaposed images of war over a sparse piano. The image is highly altered by Godard (and Mieville I assume) with high contrast and overly saturated colour. The speed is frequently altered.

In a 1980 interview Godard says, "an image is like a credit card...like and exchange" which is a good indication of how a film like this can be watched. The various allusions and point so departure: tennis: evoking two sides colliding and spectatorship; war: evoking trauma and memory; love and poetry: a reason to go on in a world of horrors committed. Godard is a master at Authoring pre=existing images. For repeating an image and making it his own for his own purpose. Like a quotation. Like an argument.

I can't wait for his next feature.

The Secret School (Marina Gioti, 2009)

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 03:24:59 GMT

Marina Gioti is a young "filmmaker and curator" who has done something interesting. She has taken a pre-existing film that she bought from a dump for 10 euros and remade it. The film in question is an educational film from the early 70s and what it teaches is related to the highly debatable of illegal “secret schools” allegedly ran clandestinely by the Greek Orthodox Church under Turkish Ottoman rule.

National debate and post-modern theories of sampling and appropriation aside, what really jumps out at me is the fact that in the 1950s to the 1980s 16mm film was used as an educational tool. There are miles and miles of these educational productions and what's most exciting is that they a: represent the outdated ideologies and thinking of their time and b: have a powerful emotional resonance with the children whom they were used to educate.

The Secret School is an extreme case in which such a film was used to promote a slanted and dishonest national narrative. What it entails is the showing of the original film (possibly in part, but I assume in full). She distorts the dialogue in sections and messes around with shot reverse shot to make the children's reactions appear more complacent. Her main intervention is her scrolling text at the end that comments on the National controversy surrounding the subject matter.

Trash Humpers (Harmony Korine, 2009)

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 02:25:06 GMT

Well, if I've accomplished nothing in my life at the very least I can now say that I was among the first people in the world to see Trash Humpers.

I should begin with the epic ticket buying fiasco which began with an hour and a half wait in line at the TIFF box office. When I emerged triumphantly with 4 tickets to this film I called Sumeena to proudly declare the news.

"Um, I'm gonna be in Chicago that weekend."
"What?"
"Yeah, we can't go that night."

No big deal. So with Amy's help I got to sell two tickets to a guy on Stillepost.ca and Kelly boldly stepped up to buy the other one. Problem solved right?

Well, when the Friday came around and I met up with Megan, Brian, and Mellissa - at a Yorkville Cafe because we were hoping to see stars (total bust, we only saw Jian Ghomeshi and Spenny from that Kenny Versus Spenny show both of whom live here anyway, but I digress). We were having a pretty good time and when we paid our bill and went for a stroll my phone rang.

"Hello?"
"Hey Chris, it's Kelly."
"Hey."
"Listen, I was just online looking at clips of the movie and...uh, it looks pretty disturbing. I don't think I can go to this. I'm soooo sorry, I'll pay you for the ticket."
"Oh. Ok, well, I'm sure I can find someone to take it, don't worry about it."

Melissa the brave, non-Harmony hater in the bunch (let's face it, he's divisive) stepped up and agreed to buy the ticket and check it out.

Harmony came out to introduce his film:

"This film is sort of not a film at all, but more like a found object. It's got this other sense to it. Also, if you're one of those people who are prone to walking out of movies -" the audience started to laugh, "No, I'm completely serious. If you walk out of movies and you're seeing Trash Humpers - and there's a lot of that in it - and you're already on edge, then just walk out now. This is not the film for you. But, on the other hand, if you see a movie called Trash Humpers and that still sounds good to you, enjoy!"

The film was shot on a VHS video camera, said "PLAY" in the top left corner at the beginning of each scene, and had that washed out 80s video look where the colour is pretty much subdued and dead looking. Blown up to 35mm it's an interesting effect.

The ugliness and the mania in the film has a mesmerizing quality. Although it's silly and abrupt and weird when it begins (at one point someone behind me exclaimed with a whimper, "WHY?") but once it gets going it's got an inspired quality to it. It's not going to influence the culture or change anyone’s perception or change the world, but, as a project, you kind of have to hand it to Korine for seeing this through.

The Q&A that followed was okay. Harmony didn't hesitate to be hostile to rude questions:

Q: "Who were they?"
A: "I don't know. You tell me, who were they?"

and

Q: "What was the point?"
A: "What's the point of your hat?"
Q: "No, really, what was the point?"
A: "Does your hat have artistic merit?"

and

Q: "I'm from Argentina and...and, to me, that film looked like home. You know?""
A: "uh huh."
Q: "I mean you're on the drugs but it's not the drugs and then you watch the film and it's like home, Argentina, the drugs, you know?"
A: "Yes."

He only sort of got serious when people asked him normal or friendly question notably the guy who says,

Q: "I'm a film critic and I want to know what I should say when I sit down to right about this film."
A: "Well positive things. I mean, I wanted to make a film that people have to expand themselves a bit to see. This film was design to revolve around these characters who were like artists of evil. It's like a bad dream I had when I was a kid where there was an old man hitting me with stilts. I don't know why I just said that. Basically there are a lot of directors out there all making the same kind of film and I don't ever want to make that kind of film."

Or he just wanted to show us that even after making Mister Lonely he's still a freak.