Wednesday, May 20, 2015


Here are some thoughts on five on my favorite programs from the second week of the recent San Francisco International Film Festival. (My round-up of week one can be found here.)

Eden (France, dir. Mia Hansen-Løve)—SFIFF58's second week got off to an invigorating start with this vibrant and touching evocation of a once hot and happening scene. Based on the experiences of Sven Hansen-Løve, who's also the director's brother and co-screenwriter, Eden follows the two-decade trajectory of fictionalized House-music DJ and producer Paul Vallée (baby-faced Félix de Givry) as he scales the heights of Paris clublife before sliding into a morass caused by drug abuse and changing musical tastes. In addition to the breathtaking club sequences, I was impressed by Eden's parade of familiar actresses depicting the women of Paul's life, starting with Arsinée Khanjian (Atom Egoyan's wife and frequent star) as his enabling and long-suffering mother. Greta Gerwig opens the film with a nice turn as the American girlfriend who breaks her French boy toy's heart and she's followed by pixie-ish Pauline Etienne as the steadfast, fellow DJ who shares in Paul's ascendancy. Bad news arrives in the person of beguiling Laura Smet, playing the voracious party girl who expedites Paul's ruin. Then Iranian superstar Golshifteh Farahani turns up, nearly unrecognizable as the admiring, punkish club kid who rescues and redeems him. Amongst the actors playing DJs and fellow scene-sters, it was a comfort seeing stringy-haired schlub Vincent Macaigne, who seems to be in half the French films I see these days.

Photo: Pamela Gentile
SFIFF58's screening of Eden was enhanced by the personal appearance of Sven Hansen-Løve and actor Félix de Givry. During the Q&A they revealed that several large club scenes, such as the one at MoMA PS1, were filmed guerilla-style at established venues. Eden's budget couldn't possibly accommodate the necessary 4,000 extras. They also had laudatory things to say about Daft Punk. The insanely famous electronic music duo, who were part of this scene and receive a droll portrayal in the movie, convinced all of the artists represented on Eden's soundtrack to accept nominal fees for music rights that would have otherwise cost the filmmaker an unaffordable €1 million. Asked about the participation of Golshifteh Farahani, we were told she came on board because she happened to be dating actor Louis Garrel, a close friend of the director. After the screening, I lacked the stamina to check out the Eden after party, where Hansen-Løve performed a live DJ set. The next morning I had my own after party upon discovering Eden's soundtrack—42 tracks lasting 4½ hours—available as a digital download on Amazon for a measly 11 bucks. Eden opens at Landmark's Embarcadero Cinema on June 26.

The Tribe (Ukraine, dir. Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy)—Winner of the Grand Prize at Cannes' Critics Week sidebar, The Tribe is like no other film you're likely to have seen before. The setting is a Ukrainian school for the hearing impaired where the entire cast "speaks" exclusively in sign language that's never translated via subtitles. This requires the viewer to pay strict attention to the actors and on-screen action, an easy task given the film's riveting storyline and meticulously choreographed, widescreen cinematography. The Tribe's plot shadows the arc of a newly arrived pupil, a male teen who's immediately shaken down by his bullying, tyrannical classmates. He soon becomes a participant in their nihilistic schemes, which includes the nocturnal transport of female students to a local truck stop for purposes of prostitution. The film's only shred of humanity occurs when he falls for one of these girls, a near-fatal error that serves as a catalyst to the film's explosive finale. Audience members who walked out during The Tribe's unbearably frank abortion scene should be grateful they didn't stick around. I've heard a number of negative comments calling the film exploitative and soulless, which could be true. But undeniably, The Tribe is also filmmaking at its most dynamic and original.

The End of the Tour (USA, dir. James Ponsoldt)—One of my most anticipated programs at SFIFF58 was this Centerpiece screening of director Ponsoldt's follow-up to The Spectacular Now. Based on Rolling Stone writer David Lipsky's memoir of a days-long, snowy Midwest encounter with writer David Foster Wallace during the end of his Infinite Jest book tour, the movie is a smart, tender and often comical relationship story about tenuous affection between two talented writers. The film is a particular triumph for actor Jason Segel as Wallace, in this his first non-comedic lead role in a narrative feature. I've made no secret of my crush on the big lug, so when the credits got rolling I bee-lined it for the front row. At the Q&A Segel revealed himself to be the gracious and self-effacing everyman I suspected he'd be. Speaking about his admiration for Wallace, Segel confided that he first read Infinite Jest with an all-male book group he formed:

Photo: Pamela Gentile
"When I bought the book at a small bookstore there was a very Ghost World kind of girl sitting behind the counter. I set Infinite Jest down and she rolled her eyes at me and said, "Infinite Jest … every guy I ever dated has an unread copy on his bookshelf."

Segel also had plenty of things to say about preparing for the role of Wallace, for which he had Lipsky's original cassette tapes as a guidepost:

"The thing I really didn't want it to seem like was 'watch Jason Segel try to do "acting".' I tried to focus more on the parts of me that were the same as Wallace, as opposed to striving to be something that was outside of myself. There was a real particular music to the way Wallace spoke. I've never seen anybody be able to speak in fully coherent arguments with a thesis and supporting points and a conclusion, and still have it sound conversational."

Best of all was Segel's response to a question from film writer Michael Guillén about the beat-up looking shoes he wore onstage that night at the Kabuki (watch a YouTube clip of that here). The program ended and I made my way to my next screening. While waiting in the narrow corridor adjoining the Kabuki Cinemas' houses two and three, I looked up to see Jason Segel himself standing there, fully within bear-hugging range (the corridor also leads to the House One backstage entrance). I managed to croak out a feeble "thank you," to which he looked into my eyes and replied, "No, thank YOU." A minute later I barely noticed when Jason Schwartzman brushed against me en route to his House One screening of 7 Chinese Brothers.

Love & Mercy (USA, dir. Bill Pohlad)—My favorite film of the fest by far was this transcendent biopic of the Beach Boys' troubled genius, Brian Wilson. Starring Paul Dano and John Cusack as the younger and older Wilson, the film alternates emotionally interlocking vignettes set during the mid-60's creation of his masterpiece LPs, Pet Sounds and Smile, with those of Wilson in the early 90's, a broken man subjected to the dictatorial control of his evil psychiatrist Eugene Landy (an effective Paul Giamatti). A shortlist of Love & Mercy's highlights would include the opening montage of early Beach Boys iconography, the lovingly recreated recording sessions (especially of "Good Vibrations") and the phenomenal sound design that conveys the explosion of musical ideas coursing through Wilson's overheated brain. The movie's revelation, however, is the achingly heartfelt performance by Elizabeth Banks as Melinda Ledbetter, the Cadillac saleswoman who selflessly comes to Wilson's emotional rescue. To my surprise, a review of her extensive IMDb credits tells me I've only seen one other Banks performance—as Laura Bush in Oliver Stone's W. You heard it here first; she's the supporting actress to beat comes 2015's year-end awards season. Love & Mercy will open in Bay Area theatres next month.

Cibo Matto: New SceneMy 2015 SFIFF experience ended on the highest possible note with an electrifying evening at the Castro Theatre. SFFS programmer Sean Uyehara outdid himself this year, engaging one of my favorite bands of the past 20 years to accompany a septet of iconic avant-garde / experimental films. It was the festival's best music and film combo since 2009's pairing of L.A. / Cambodian rock band Dengue Fever with the silent dinosaur flick, The Lost World. Cibo Matto's four members took the stage and launched into a synth-heavy, percussive bass grove that mingled nicely with Miwa Matreyek's Lumerence and its imagery of fluttering eyeball mountainscapes and space-traveling eggs. Next came Grace Nayoon Rhee's two-minute Unicorn, featuring creepy stop-motion rabbits and a priceless punch line. The longest piece of the evening was Cibo Matto's new score for the 1970 film adaptation of Oskar Schlemmer's geometry-obsessed Bauhaus-era Das Triadische Ballet. Hilarious jibber-jabber vocals from band member Miho Hatori morphed into a swirly, pulsating tempo before surrendering to a thundering jazz-funk vibe that rocked the Castro.

As expected, the personal highlight of Cibo Matto: New Scene was Yoko Ono's 1970 Fly, which I've always longed to see in its entirety. For 25 minutes, the camera follows a fly in extreme close-up as it circumnavigates the nude body of actress Virginia Lust. And yes, it takes about all of 60 seconds for the critter to wend its way "down there." Cibo Matto saved its hardest rocking-out for this piece, with synth player Yuka Honda supplying some spot-on Yoko-style yowling. In the film's final minutes the camera pulls back to reveal Lust's full elongated body splayed along an attic cot, dotted with perhaps a half-dozen flies. We're then taken to the window for a leisurely gaze at the surrounding buildings before the end credits roll, capped by this priceless divulgement, "Flies supplied by NYC." The evening reached a soothing denouement with mellow accompaniment to Marcel Duchamp's 1928 Anemic Cinema, featuring the gyroscopic spinning of alliterative French puns.

Cross-published at film-415.


As all good things must come to an end, so it goes with the 58th San Francisco International Film Festival (SFIFF58). This year's event was one of the most extraordinary I've experienced in four decades of attending the festival. Between the many awesome films accompanied by special guests and the unforgettable one-of-a-kind live performances, I'll be thinking back upon my grand SFIFF58 experience for months to come.

For lucky members of the San Francisco Film Society, the fest continues through May 31 via the SFIFF Online Screening Room. Here members can stream 13 features and 11 shorts they may have missed during the festival proper. I've already taken a look at Western, winner of the Golden Gate Award for Best Documentary Feature, and Bota, an Albanian narrative feature that escaped my attention but was raved about by friends and colleagues. I'll be checking out others in the coming days. Meanwhile, here's a look back at 10 of my favorite programs from SFIFF58's first week.

Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine (USA, dir. Alex Gibney)—SFIFF58 got off to a fine start with this complex portrait of Apple Computers' troubling main man, effectively answering the question, "How much of an asshole does a person have to be in order to achieve success?" I was particularly struck by how the prolific Gibney—fresh from ripping new ones for James Brown and Scientology—inserted his own subjective voice into the narration (it was the mass public lamentation following Jobs' death which inspired him to take on the project). I didn't stick around for the Q&A because I was antsy to reach the opening night celebration at Madame Tussaud's on Fisherman's Wharf. Kudos to whoever came up with the idea of a wax museum party! At one point I asked myself, "Is that a statue or is that really Ryan Philippe?" T'was the latter. Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine opens at Bay Area Landmark Theatres on September 4.

54: The Director's Cut (USA, dir. Mark Christopher)—I returned to the Castro the next night for Mark Christopher's reconstruction of his maligned 1998 flick 54. Starring Ryan Philippe, Salma Hayek and Breckin Meyer as three romantically linked employees of NYC's famed discotheque, this new cut with 44 previously unseen minutes comes shy of being the "minor masterpiece" some critics would have us believe. But as experienced in the company of a whooping, exuberant Castro audience savoring nostalgia for an era never lived firsthand, it made for an enormously fun evening. In addition to Christopher, actors Philippe and Breckin were in the house to reminisce post-screening, expressing joy at finally getting to see the film they remembered shooting. Compelled by the "overwhelming positive response" at the film's SFIFF U.S. premiere, Miramax and Lionsgate issued a statement four days later announcing they'd release 54: The Director's Cut on VOD starting June 2.

Call Me Lucky (USA, dir. Bobcat Goldthwait)—A Saturday afternoon fire alarm at the Sundance Kabuki Cinemas interrupted my screening of Mr. Holmes (reuniting a masterful Ian McKellen with his Gods and Monsters director Bill Condon), which in turn delayed the start of Stanley Nelson's compelling new doc The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution. Forced to revamp my early evening plans, I decided to cold-walk into a film I knew nothing about, which proved fortuitous. The subject of Bobcat Goldthwait's excellent new doc is Barry Krimmins, the gruff, brilliant political / social satirist—someone in the film likens him to a combo of Noam Chomsky and Bluto—who singlehandedly created Boston's stand-up comedy scene. At the film's midway point we learn of unspeakably horrific acts perpetuated against Krimmins as a young boy, and watch as he turns crusader in the halls of U.S. Congress against early internet behemoth AOL. The film's co-producer Charlie Fonville was on hand for a Q&A, revealing that Robin Williams contributed the seed money that got this worthy project rolling.

The Forbidden Room (dir. Guy Maddin & Evan Johnson)—Saturday reached a mind-blowing apex with Guy Maddin's fevered paean to the lost films of cinema's early sound era—thereby erasing whatever misgivings I had about forgoing Guillermo del Toro's SFIFF58 tribute across town. Maddin's first full-color, hyper-saturated film begins with a demonstration on How To Take a Bath (inspired by an actual 1937 lost film by exploitation producer Dwain Esper) before submerging into a cockeyed lost submarine adventure. By the end of The Forbidden Room's 131 minutes, we'd been lurched along a plotline stuffed with bladder-slapping contests, lifesaving flapjacks, virgin volcano sacrifice, squid thievery and poisoned leotards. It was a thrill to experience all this on the Kabuki Cinemas' giant House One screen, and the typically generous Q&A from Maddin continued past midnight. Distributor Kino-Lorber is planning to release the film this autumn.

The New Girlfriend (France, dir. François Ozon)—The latest from France's most entertainingly subversive director is an intricate and witty transgender dramedy that slapped a grin on my face and wouldn't let go. Actor Romain Duris, whose personal appearance accompanying Chinese Puzzle was a highlight of last year's fest, stars as a widower who dresses in his dead wife's clothes as a way to comfort their infant daughter. Or so he says. After his wife's BFF (Anaïs Demoustier) catches him in the act, the pair embarks on a surprise-filled adventure encompassing gender fluidity, confused sexual desire and plenty of red-herring dream sequences. This is surely one of Duris' finest performances and the film has secured an assured early slot on my 2015 Top Ten list.

Saint Laurent (France, dir. Bertrand Bonello)—Following The New Girlfriend, I dashed to the Castro Theatre to catch the second half of Bonello's fabulously outré YSL biopic. (I had seen the film previously and wrote about it here. And I now realize nearly all of my favorite scenes are in the film's first half). My Castro sojourn was primarily motivated by the desire to catch an eyeful of Saint Laurent's handsome lead actor, Gaspard Ulliel, who took the stage with his director for a post-screening Q&A. Ulliel was the more gregarious and forthcoming of the two. He talked about the difficulty of dubbing the older YSL (played by veteran Austrian actor Helmut Berger) and discussed the benefits of wearing on-screen costumes that actually came from the fashion designer's personal wardrobe. Of course, someone in the audience couldn't resist asking who was the better kisser, Jérémie Renier or Louis Garrel (the actors who play YSL's two great loves). The reply was Garrel by default. Ulliel never actually kisses Renier in the film (but they appear to do a whole lot else). Saint Laurent opens at Landmark's Embarcadero Cinema on May 16.

Red Amnesia (China, dir. Wang Xiaoshuai) / Hill of Freedom (South Korea, dir. Hong Sang-soo)—Sunday evening found me at the Clay Theatre for a pair of superb new Asian films, starting with Wang's enigmatic tale of an old woman haunted by a transgression committed during the Cultural Revolution. Red Amnesia boasts an unforgettable performance by stage actress Lu Zhong, and a shock ending that would have stuck with me long into the night were it not immediately followed by the funniest film I'd see at the festival. Hong Sang-soo's 16th feature received very mixed reviews when it premiered at Venice—thank goodness I didn't let that deter me from catching it at SFIFF58. Told in a compact 66 minutes, Hill of Freedom centers on a Japanese man's mundane escapades in a chummy Seoul neighborhood, where he hopes to reunite and propose marriage to a Korean ex-coworker. The film's humor is largely derived from the fractured English spoken by its characters, making me wonder if Hill of Freedom is nearly as funny to non-English speakers. The film's sole Caucasian character, of course, speaks fluent Korean. Hong's customary device of shuffling his narrative's chronology—in this case initiated by a dropped stack of letters—seemed an unnecessary affectation this time around.

Isabella Rossellini's Green Porno Live! (USA, dir. Jody Shapiro)—SFIFF58 star-gazing continued on Monday with the appearance of Ms. Rossellini. The former Cover Girl and actress was in town promoting a doc about the stage adaptation of her marvelously oddball Sundance Channel series of lo-fi shorts explaining how animals have sex. Director Jody Shapiro, who co-produced and directed the original Green Porno films, captures how Rossellini transformed her cartoon-like mini-movies for the stage via monologue and props. He then tags along as she performs the 75-minute show in three languages and 33 countries, in the process revealing which animal has the longest penis (barnacles!!!) and which are the most incongruously sized (gorillas have two inches while ducks have eight). Following the screening, the affable actress explained how she became interested in animals at a young age and hinted what her next area of pursuit might be (animal intelligence and communication).

Maidan (Ukraine, dir. Sergei Loznitsa)—Arriving soon after his two acclaimed narrative features, My Joy (SFIFF 2011) and In the Fog (SFIFF 2013), director Loznitsa's latest work is that rarest of animals—a documentary with definitive style. From November 2013 until February 2014, he shot the popular Ukrainian uprising that took place in Kiev's main square. The film is composed solely of stationary long takes (the camera only moves twice in 134 minutes) that are always kept in deep focus, bringing a crisp clarity to thousands of anonymous faces in the crowds. There are no interviews or narration. A half-dozen succinct inter-titles give background info on the events taking place, as peaceful assembly and protest is ultimately met with violent repression. The result is an immersive experience bordering on virtual reality. Maidan is like nothing I've ever seen before and it's the most memorable documentary I saw at SFIFF58.

Cross-published at film-415.

Sunday, May 17, 2015


Responding to his first edition at the helm of the San Francisco International Film Festival, Executive Director Noah Cowan asserted, "We are especially proud of the series of dynamic expanded conversations using film as a conduit to discuss the key issues and obsessions of contemporary culture."

Case in point would be the Live & Onstage program "Boomtown: Remaking San Francisco", which addressed the ever-shifting economy of San Francisco through a variety of perspectives. Audiences absorbed Tim Redmond's housing crisis analysis, which was as much a rousing call to awareness and engaged action as it toned the stage for the following presenters, who included chanting transgender Black Lives Matter protestors. After their shameful treatment by entitled white gay male patrons of Toad Hall in San Francisco's Castro district, I was heartened that they were provided access and voice at SFIFF and must give a hearty shout-out to Sean Uyehara and the SFIFF programming team for their commendable solidarity, whose programming efforts this year offered insight into one of our country's most divisive issues through such probing documentaries as What Happened, Miss Simone?, The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution and 3½ Minutes, Ten Bullets.

The Boomtown program likewise included two works in progress: Joseph Talbot's The Last Black Man in San Francisco and Susie Smith and Lauren Tabak's Never a Cover, which chronicled the closure of the Lexington, San Francisco's last lesbian bar. Both projects focus on economic forces diminishing San Francisco's once-rich minority diversity. Also on the program was Elisabeth Spencer's Sutro Tower: From Eyesore to Icon, mounted just a few years before I arrived in San Francisco (I recall heated dinner conversations on the subject) and West is San Francisco: A Symphony in Kodachrome (B. Berzins, Jim Granato, Nicole Minor, Doug Schultz, Anjali Sundaram and Phoebe Tooke), which greeted the audience as they found their seats.

Wrapping up the program were poetic, if nostalgic, elegies to San Francisco's shifting cityscape. Noticeably absent was Dolissa Medina's incandescent The Crow Furnace (2015), whose tagline—"All skylines frame spectacles of loss"—would have been appropriate company for Vero Majano's storytelling over Mission archival footage and Jenni Olson's narrative over San Francisco images in clips from The Royal Road.

The Royal Road (dir. Jenni Olsen, 2015)—Situated in SFIFF's new Vanguard sidebar, Jenni Olson's critically lauded The Royal Road (2015) offered its own take-away tagline: "Self-discovery is a civic value." That line resonated with me for days after seeing Olson's remarkable essay film, which risks the ephemeral with brave mindfulness. Like hundreds of others, I arrived in SF in 1975 and participated in the cultural project of transforming the city through the youthful exploratory process of becoming ourselves. And like so many others, I am disheartened how the city we built is being methodically dismantled by economic forces that have heartlessly turned so many of us into economic exiles (myself included). Like the best of historians, Jenni Olson abstracts the ephemeral into structured moments of observed time and place, relevant to the ongoing practice of witness.

Theory of Obscurity: a film about The Residents (dir. Don Hardy, Jr., 2015)—Less poetic in its treatment of San Franciscan history, Don Hardy's profile of The Residents nonetheless evokes an anarchic spirit of artistry unfettered from commercial ambitions. If no questions were answered by the documentary, it purposely comports with the art project's obfuscating mission to eschew answers. Despite knowing this, the film was oddly dissatisfying for riddling the purview. Still, it was great to see former Pacific Film Archive curator Steve Seid offer some grounding context.

Cibo Matto New SceneI was absolutely blown away by Cibo Matto's New Scene film and music presentation. Not only my favorite event of this edition of SFIFF, but quite possibly one of my favorites throughout the many years I've been attending. A perfect blend of cutting edge sound matched to such cinema treasures as Marcel Duchamp's Anemic Cinema (1926), Yoko Ono's tickling Fly (1970), Miwa Matreyek's eye-opening Lumerence (2012), and the dazzling modern re-staging of celebrated Bauhaus artist Oskar Schlemmer's Triadic Ballet, whose costumed choreography elevates mise en scène towards hypnotic transfixion. Beautifully energizing. Fantastic programming, Sean Uyehara! You've outdone yourself!

Love & Mercy (dir. Bill Pohlad, 2014)—If Cibo Matto's New Scene was my favorite event at SFIFF, Bill Pohlad's marquee presentation of Love & Mercy (2014) emerged from the surf as my favorite film of the festival. I watched it twice and look forward to seeing it again upon its theatrical release. An ingenious revamp of the bio pic genre, Love & Mercy profiles The Beach Boys' Brian Wilson through Oren Moverman's successful device of dividing representation among multiple actors; a device familiar to fans of the Bob Dylan biopic I'm Not There, and just as effective in Love & Mercy. Paul Dano (as the youthful Wilson) and John Cusack (as Wilson in his later years) embody Wilson with ranged experience; but, the real discovery here is the Oscar®-worthy supporting turn of Elizabeth Banks who remedies the film's narrative plight with humor and a fierce heart.

The End of the Tour (dir. James Ponsoldt, 2015)—As the celebrated novelist David Foster Wallace, Jason Segel offers his most accomplished performance to date in James Ponsoldt's thoughtful biopic The End of the Tour (2015). Wallace captured the world's attention with his postmodern masterpiece Infinite Jest, prompting Rolling Stone magazine to assign their staff journalist David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg) to profile the legend. As much about literary envy as the disconnect between fame and self-image, Ponsoldt conflates the biopic and road movie genres to chart the relationship between two writers at the tail end of a literary tour. Although Lipsky's interview was never published by Rolling Stone, his interaction with Wallace is one for the history books. This fully entertaining film also gave me the grand chance to ask a very important question to Segel. My thanks to Michael Hawley for recording same.

3½ Minutes, Ten Bullets (dir. Marc Silver, 2015)—Along with the documentary treatments of Nina Simone and the Black Panthers, the frustrated response to ongoing racism in the United States is briefly, if soundly, ameliorated in Marc Silver's thorough chronicle of the murder trial of Michael Dunn, a middle-aged white Floridian who in 2012 fired his gun into a car carrying four unarmed African American teens, killing Jordan Davis. At times, Silver's persistent focus on the weeping of Jordan's mother and father seems a bit exploitive, but how else to underscore the human loss deminimized by Florida's dangerous "stand your ground" law, controversial for revealing the legal protection provided a perceived threat as a thinly-guised rationale for racism?

Chef's Table (dirs. Clay Jeter, Brian McGinn, 2015)—One of the great pleasures of having access to a press lounge at an international film festival are chance encounters with filmmakers who can convince you to watch a film that otherwise might not have been on your radar. This year, the affable Clay Jeter steered me towards Chef's Table (2015), whose multi-platform debut at both SFIFF and Netflix Instant Watch intrigued me as a spectatorial trend. Of course, a festival like SFIFF provides value added with talent in attendance. In the case of his segment on Argentine chef Francis Mallman, Jeter provided the scoop that his subject Mallman would be there for the Q&A, so how could I resist? Spotting me in the audience, Jeter came up to shake my hand. "You came!!" he beamed. "Absolutely," I responded. The camaraderie of filmmaker and journalist.

Camaraderie is one thing, of course, but delivery another. And Chef's Table delivers spectacularly with stunning cinematography executed with state-of-the-art equipment and technical prowess. As much a tribute to place as to each segment's subject, Chef's Table is less a cooking show than it is a respectful purview of some of the world's greatest gastronomic hearts and minds. It succeeds as a philosophic treatise on the power of food, its preparation, presentation, and ultimate purpose. I can hardly wait to binge watch the remaining episodes (with snacks at hand). Jeter's particular segment was ravishingly limned with open fire and the generous robust heart of Francis Mallman whose world view matched mine on so many levels. What I would give to sample some of his foraged and charred delicacies!

Saturday, May 16, 2015


After a few unsettling years of deaths and other curve balls, the San Francisco Film Society's 58th edition of the San Francisco International Film Festival regained its standing as one of the strongest, most influential—let alone the oldest—film festivals in the U.S. With Noah Cowan officially taking the reins as Executive Director for his first edition, a vibe of casual and fun confidence was added to the festival's diverse offerings of spectacular "Big Night" Bay Area premieres, gala events, spirited parties, live onstage appearances, award presentations, master classes, and an impressive bumper crop of some of the world's best films on circuit, several lining up under a vibrant spotlight profiling the role in cinema that music plays in changing—and even in some instances, saving—lives.

Particularly notable in this year's line-up were the robust programming strokes of Sean Uyehara who has matured over the years in his keen intuition of the pop cultural appetites advancing the festival's burgeoning youth audience. In tandem with Director of Programming Rachel Rosen's commanding and articulate on-stage conversations for the opening night, centerpiece, and closing night films, and Rod Armstrong and Audrey Chang's competent introductions contextualizing films for their anticipatory audiences, the SFIFF programming team deserves a special shout-out this year for a helmship masterfully navigated.

Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine (dir. Alex Gibney, 2015)—Alex Gibney's Opening Night entry Steve Jobs: The Man in the Machine posed (and, in effect, answered) the question: "How much of an asshole do you have to be in order to be a genius?" I don't recall Gibney insinuating himself into one of his films as conspicuously as in this documentary, wherein he queries why there should have been such a global outpouring of grief over the death of a businessman who, basically, just sold us products? But, oh what products, eh? Despite revealing Jobs's less attractive side, archival footage of Jobs unveiling the iPhone still excites after all these years. Gibney's on a roll with three documentaries out in as many months and his master class with SFFS director Noah Cowan and filmmaker Rob Epstein proved enlightening as to the documentarian's rigorous methods. Ramin Setoodeh gleaned further insight in his Variety interview with Gibney. The documentary continues on festival track but was acquired by Magnolia Pictures following its world premiere at SXSW. David Hudson aggregates reviews at Keyframe Daily.

What Happened, Miss Simone? (dir. Liz Garbus, 2014)—Two nights in a row SFIFF featured documentaries revealing the dark psyches of cultural icons, first with Apple CEO Steve Jobs and then musical legend Nina Simone. Reviews from Berlin and Sundance, as grouped together at Keyframe Daily, were uneven, but I'm not sure why, as I found the documentary a fascinating, if disturbing, portrait of a brilliant artist beleaguered with demons. One can't help but fantasize what song Nina could have sung to encourage the Black Lives Matter movement? Along with Stanley Nelson's documentary profile of the Black Panthers, the failure of the Civil Rights Movement to guarantee substantive change in a nation riddled through and through with racism surfaces as a pronounced and painfully relevant theme. When asked during a televised interview about civil rights in the U.S., Simone barks out that there are no civil rights in the United Snakes of America. What Happened, Miss Simone? is rich with archival footage of Simone in concert and in conversation (most of which I've never seen or heard before) and the after-film discussion between Garbus and NPR commentator Tavis Smiley explored the nature of Simone's demons that ruptured her career.

The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution (dir. Stanley Nelson, 2015)—Every now and then I'm keenly aware of just how much history I've witnessed in San Francisco. The activities of the Black Panthers were a few years ahead of my arrival in the Bay Area in 1975, though their media visibility was already ubiquitous. All the more reason to appreciate Stanley Nelson's pitch-perfect tribute to this volatile chapter of Bay Area history situated in SFIFF's Masters sidebar. Did I say history? The way things are going these days in Nina Simone's "United Snakes of America", racism is as rampant as ever and the adversarial square-off between law enforcement and racial inequity still as relevant and no less outrageous. The film's Q&A revealed mixed reactions to what should or should not have been represented in this purview, and suggested other films yet to be made. But for now, Nelson has provided a necessary primer on race, class and power relations in the U.S. and begs the question: What should militancy look like today?

54: The Director's Cut (dir. Mark Christopher, 1998)—At 40, Ryan Phillippe is still turning heads. I admired his wandering among the party crowd at SFIFF's opening night at Madame Tussaud's and I was pretty much sitting across from him where he was sitting pretty during the U.S. premiere of the so-called Director's Cut of 1998's 54, which negated the studio interference of the film's original theatrical release to reinstate footage as it was meant to be seen of—as Noah Cowan puts it—"beautifully acted, Cabaret-like licentiousness in the form of amibisexual polyamory and rampant drug use at the Studio 54 nightclub." It must have been a nice ego rush for Phillippe to hear the Castro crowd erupt into lustful and vociferous applause when, in one of the film's early scenes, he strips off his shirt to enter Studio 54. A Manhattan Adonis on the dance floor.

Yes, indeedy, I much preferred this version to the first, with Phillippe and co-star Breckin Meyer in prime youthful form, expressing the first wave of "it doesn't matter" bro-mancery way ahead of its time. A masterpiece, even minor? I don't think so. But a nostalgic and naughty romp through the halcyon days of our collective youth. A moment in time thumping to a disco beat. And it was great to see such a youthful, costumed audience at an SFIFF event. Watching the crowd was as much fun as watching the film.

Eden (dir. Mia Hansen-Løve, 2014)—By contrast, the urban "French house" party scene depicted in Mia Hansen-Løve's Eden might have benefited from some of the melodramatic theatrics that made 54 a wicked pleasure. Instead, Hansen-Løve chose to pop that soap bubble, such that we're left with not much more than a "why should we care?" rise-and-fall story of an ambitious DJ who eventually succumbs to the drugs (and changing tastes) rampant on the dance floor. Without question, however, the best part of the film is its reintroduction to the electronic dance music engineered during the '90s and the international club scene it fueled. At a mere $10.50, the film's soundtrack offers a pulse-pounding four and a half hours of the heyday's finest.

Mr. Holmes (dir. Bill Condon, 2015)—Twenty minutes into the U.S. premiere screening of Mr. Holmes, the Sundance Kabuki held its annual evacuation due to false fire alarm; but, even that unwelcome disruption couldn't detract from the first Oscar®-worthy performance of the year. You can't keep your eyes off Ian McKellan as the stately Sherlock Holmes. As an aging gentleman myself, I gleaned inspiration from the close-ups of McKellan's weathered face, which revealed intelligence and character and a fire in the eyes that I have to believe only time can spark and flame. The film elevates sentiment to measured elegance and offers a thinking man's whodunnit, something of a meta-narrative about the mysterious ways in which a mystery is imagined and written.

Best of Enemies (dirs. Morgan Neville, Robert Gordon, 2015)—The editorial rhythm of Morgan Neville and Robert Gordon's Best of Enemies (2015) is astoundingly entertaining. Layered archival footage creates a textured impression of America in the mid-'60s when—during my childhood—televised political punditry was born, for better or worse. I was 15 when the infamous televised debates between Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley, Jr. took place on ABC, as part of their coverage of the 1968 presidential conventions, but even then I was thinking, "Man, these guys are bitchy!!" Culture is context in this instance as our contemporary moment is revealed through its nostalgic underpinnings.

Time Out of Mind (dir. Oren Moverman, 2014)—Not even an embarrassingly clunky onstage interview could diminish Richard Gere's stellar presence at SFIFF (Gere was forced to remark to his interviewer that he was setting up questions like golf balls on tees). Gere's performance in Owen Moverman's Time Out of Mind (2014) melds the actor's activism with an unflinching performance constructed from the inside out. A hard film to watch, but one of the most important social issues out there today. The look into the horrid bureaucracy of homeless shelters will make you think twice about judging the homeless for preferring their cardboard shelters on the street.

Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films (dir. Mark Hartley, 2014)—There are lots and lots of explosions and riotously implausible scenarios in Mark Hartley's affectionate overview of the filmic output from Cannon Films. When I owned and ran video stores in the San Joaquin Valley, I stocked my shelves with Cannon Films titles because they paid for themselves through rentals in no time flat. At a brisk, unsparing pace, talking heads recount the history of the studio that pumped out cult favorites and art-house triumphs like Runaway Train.

The Postman's White Nights (dir. Andrei Konchalovsky, 2014)—Speaking of Runaway Train, Andrei Konchalovsky's most recent entry is a sharp departure from that film's kinetic tour de force. Postman's narrative unfolds at a considerably more leisurely pace, with ravishingly languorous shots of the scenic beauty of Russia's Lake Kenozeno. Community squabbles among sharply-etched hardscrabble characters provide the launchpad for one of cinema's most unexpected moments (it literally made the audience gasp gleefully).

H. (dirs. Rania Attieh, Daniel Garcia, 2015)—In SFIFF's newly-annointed Vanguard sidebar, H. (2015) is a satisfying head-scratcher. Homer would have certainly been scratching his, though arguably with less satisfaction at the contemporary liberties taken with his tale of the fall of Troy (here rendered as Troy, New York, and with two Helens no less). Then again, when it comes to the cinematic treatment of literary material, all's fair game. For that matter, recently departed master Eduardo Galeano wittingly questioned the veracity of Homer's account. Galeano writes in Mirrors: Stories of Almost Everyone: "The stones of Troy were turning to sand and nothing but sand as fated by nature, when Homer saw them and heard them speak. Did he simply imagine what he sang? ...Those women and those men, and those goddesses and those gods who are so like us, jealous, vengeful, treasonous, did they exist? Who knows if they existed? All that's certain is that they exist." (2009:46-47)

I'm confident, however, that Homer would have been as bemused as I was by the film's final scene when the giant head seen floating down the river is hauled out and brought into Troy. An image fraught with cognitive dissonance (it appears to be statuary and heavy, but floats, and there's an insinuation it's something alien and extraterrestrial), it nonetheless induces a giddy giggle. We're all in on the joke by that point. What's inside that head?

Hill of Freedom (dir. Hong Sang-soo, 2014)—Film after film, Hong Sang-soo has been conjuring drunken scenarios of awkward interactions. Variations on a theme, I admittedly wearied of his films, perhaps especially after being invited to dinner with Sang-soo and being forced to participate in embarrassing drinking games. But I'm ready to toast the master with lifted soju after watching his charming, and wonderfully brief—66 minutes; filmmakers take note!—Hill of Freedom (2014), which mines humor from all that's lost in translation. As Michael Hawley mentioned to me, it's interesting that the only character who speaks fluent Korean is the white guy. All the rest speak in halting, and hilarious, English.

Monday, May 11, 2015


The dark brilliance of H.R. Giger's visionary imagination is undisputed. Catapulted into international fame for his contributions to the visual effects and creature concepts of Ridley Scott's Alien (1979)—which rightly earned him an Oscar®—Giger's death in May 2014, a few months after the completion of Belinda Sallin's documentary Dark Star: H.R. Giger's World (2014) adds a last-minute timeliness to Sallin's efforts. The result, however, is an artless if respectful look at an aged, infirm artist hobbling around a tumble of artifacts in his studio. Though the allure of Giger's insular world is understandable, Sallin's failure to make much use of her access to provide much more than a prolonged, lugubrious tracking shot of his cluttered abode is a lost opportunity.

Granted, Giger's failing health might not have allowed him to be forthcoming for the cameras; but, the film's plodding pace might have found some uplift in archival footage of Giger when he was young and at his most vigorous. No doubt, rights issues with 20th Century Fox allowed for only the briefest glimpse of Giger at work on the set of Alien, which would have been fascinating, and there wasn't even a mention of his aborted efforts for Jodorwosky's Dune. Other than for Czech psychiatrist Stanislav Grof whose work with transpersonal psychology and LSD cancer therapy granted some credence to his ascription of Giger's visions of perinatal trauma, most of the talking heads in this documentary are dull with nothing more to add than that "there is light in his darkness." Timothy Leary was quoted on the film's poster so why not a bit from him in the film? This is one of the few instances where I might have preferred a voiceover narrator providing key biographical information and insight into the artist's methodology. I came away with as much of an appreciation of Giger's art as ever before, but wishing I'd learned more about the man other than this numbing chronicle of his sad stumble towards death.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

MING STUDIOS: TRACESThe Evening Class Interview With Marijn van Kreij and Jason Morales

Photo: Matthew Wordell
As a younger man during the so-called "Mens Movement", I attended several seminars with poet Robert Bly who—at a seminar entitled "Leaping Between the Horns of the Bull"—likened poetry unto an act of leaping. He posed that often the best poetry is the leap made over the staged tension between one image and another, often disparate and seemingly at odds. He envisioned the horns of the bull as those two disparate images over whose tension the poet leaps.

That staged tension and its concomitant poetic impulse is evident in the work of Dutch artist Marijn van Kreij, the most recent resident at MING Studios, whose creativity similarly resides in an inbetween zone, not only between images, but between mediums, and between himself as an artist and his participatory audience. For the last couple of weeks van Kreij has been working on an installation for his solo exhibition "Traces", opening April 25, 2015 at MING. The title of the exhibition refers to the song "Traces" by the internationally acclaimed, Boise‐based band, Built to Spill. Van Kreij's intention is for the lyrics of the song to act as an intangible platform to build from.

He explains: "In a very direct way the lyrics make you think about the mind and the distinction between an inner and outside world and how this thin line is actually not so clear at all sometimes, if at all traceable. I am planning to set these lyrics against new abstract works on paper which are all based upon images from a book I brought from my Amsterdam studio, called Klee en Cobra: Het begint als kind. I am forcing myself and the viewer to relate these two disparate sources. I believe what is to be found in between might be worthwhile. I am aiming to create these gaps for thought."

As MING contextualizes: "Van Kreij's work often magnifies the subtleties of daily life caught by the artist's eye and ear. His work engages with and reflects upon 'the creative act' in the broadest sense. Repetition and the reuse of existing imagery and text play a key role within his practice. His most recent exhibitions are experiments on how music and visual elements—drawings, paintings and text pieces—may connect to each other and shape the experience of the audience."

Marijn van Kreij (1978, Middelrode, NL) has exhibited extensively throughout Europe. His work can be found in major collections including Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam and Bonnefantenmuseum, Maastricht (NL). "Traces" at MING Studios marks the artist's first solo exhibition in the United States.

MING Director Jason Morales first introduced me to van Kreij when we were waiting in line for Geographer on the first night of Treefort Music Fest. Shortly after Treefort, I sat down with Morales and van Kreij to talk about the upcoming installation before heading out of Boise to San Francisco on festival track. Van Kreij is lanky, laconic, and observes others with earnest intelligence and a hint of bemusement. He's inquisitive and alert.

I first asked Morales to lay out MING's strategy regarding the artist residency programs and why exposing local artists to international artists could prove beneficial. Morales underscored that the specific strategy of the MING Studios artist residency program is to support the local artist community by attracting international artists. Even with the Boise Art Museum (BAM), Boise's exposure to artists working in the Netherlands, India, and all over the world is limited and indirect (BAM's charter, in fact, concedes limitations to what they can offer by way of international art). But Morales is convinced that interaction between local and international artists creates a mutually-beneficial exchange of ideas, practices and opportunities. He envisions the cross-pollination moving both ways. By example, he considers the upcoming experience of a local artist MING will be profiling later this year who will then be given the opportunity to dialogue with cultural institutions in Europe. And to be fair, it isn't just European artists who will achieve exposure at MING, as the recent (and highly popular) exhibit of Noel Weber's work revealed.

Artist: Marijn van Kreij
"We are looking to also offer opportunities to local artists but it is in the context of an international community," explained Morales.

Funding such cultural exchanges is an ongoing negotiation. The Mondriaan Fund was instrumental in arranging for van Kreij to participate in the MING residency. During Jaialdi, MING hopes to expand Basque cultural expression by exhibiting the work of a Basque artist who, in turn, will be reaching out to various organizations in his region, both cultural and commercial, including previous sponsors, to help finance his exhibition. In gist, fiduciary involvement varies from artist to artist. MING is already collaborating with institutions in Germany for artists they're considering for next May. Hopefully, they'll be able to secure grants in Idaho, as well as develop internal fundraising efforts.

Resident artists are chosen through an involved, meticulous process of selection. In the case of Marijn van Kreij, he came recommended by MING's advisor Kerstin Winking, curator for the Stedelijk Museum. Winking had worked with van Kreij previously and was instrumental in identifying him, along with several other artists. She worked in the Global Collaborations effort at Stedelijk Museum Bureau Amsterdam (SMBA), which Morales advises—though on a different scale—is similar in relationship as MoMA is to MoMA PS1, and MoCA in L.A. and its offshoot's raw space. Comparably, the Stedelijk Museum has its primary space and then it has SMBA, a smaller venue where they host experimental and younger artists. As project coordinator for SMBA's Global Collaborations project, Winking has been discovering and grooming artists on behalf of the Stedelijk Museum.

As required by the Mondrian Fund, van Kreij filled out an application for MING so that the studios could better understand his concept and use of space and how his exhibition would be executed, what types of materials would be needed, and the project's potential reach. Reaching Boise's community is one thing but the hope is that his installation will likewise speak to a Dutch audience, or a German audience, whichever other audience to which an artist resident may have access. Of course, as of yet, van Kreij doesn't know what Boise or Idaho audiences will contribute to the equation.

* * *

Artist: Marijn van Kreij
Michael Guillén: What was it, Marijn, that drew you to Boise and made the MING Studios residency an attractive exercise for you?

Marijn van Kreij: Definitely that I was invited by Kerstin who I'd worked with before. I trusted her that this would be an interesting place for me. I'm not sure why she thought of me to show here. I haven't done many residencies. I've just started on this one for MING, but I think I will be able to work in a relatively quiet and relaxed way here, which will also be kind of new for me. It's something I look forward to. It's always interesting to have your work shown to a different audience with a different background.

Guillén: Are you billed as an experimental artist? Is that how you think of yourself?

van Kreij: No, no. Though what I'm going to do at MING is something of an experiment for myself, I feel I'm a painter draftsman who makes installations.

Guillén: My understanding is that you're saluting Idaho by taking a Built to Spill song and creating an installation from that?

van Kreij: It's kind of tricky, but this band Built to Spill was my only reference to Boise. I had already heard them in Europe. When I was invited, I remembered they came from Boise, so I began to listen to their music again. I was thinking about what to do here and—while I was listening to their song "Traces"—it spoke to me, and it served as a trigger, a starting point. My work is ultimately about combining different sets of information—be it visual, or sound. The experiment for me is how things work together. It's not so much about one single piece.

Guillén: So it will be a true installation, then?

Artist: Marijn van Kreij
van Kreij: That's how I see it, yeah. There will be things on the walls, which is classic; but, I hope to make it all one feel, one environment, and maybe add music or text so they play equally.

Jason Morales: On that note, too, this is something that is also attractive for us here at MING from a residency standpoint: we are looking for artists who will use the space, and work within the space. Nothing is fixed. They get a blank canvas in the space itself. Some may bring some work they've done before to incorporate into the project, but, generally speaking, how they absorb their experience here and their use of this physical environment is influential on what their exhibition then becomes. That's part of what we look for. We're not fixed on anything, of course. There may be exceptions to that at some point but, as a general approach, that's a critical element to the residencies.

van Kreij: I never really considered myself a painter because I don't work on canvas, I work on paper. I love to paint on paper. I don't relate so much to the history of painting; but, recently I've started to become more and more painterly and to refer to the history of painting.

Guillén: What kind of paper do you paint on?

van Kreij: All kinds of paper. I make a lot of drawings where I incorporate text.

Guillén: Are they meant to last? Or do you think of them as ephemeral?

van Kreij: Well, I started to work with and propose the idea of an ephemeral quality, that the project was not a final thing, which is my concern with painting: that it will become this definite thing.

Guillén: You're clear on the difference, then, between art and an artifact? You prefer flux and movement?

van Kreij: Very much so. That's why I'm involved with what happens inbetween the works on the walls and the sound or text. It's not this thing. It's about what happens inbetween, in your head. Let's say you just came in off the street after seeing a car accident, you would walk into this space differently, no? I'd like to do something that feels like that.

Guillén: So your artistry is its own ongoing process?

van Kreij: And maybe involves the viewer into the process. I invite them to be a part of the work I'm making to witness the traces of what's happened.


After three weeks of anticipation, the San Francisco International Film Festival's 58th edition is set to take off tomorrow night. Thus far, The Evening Class has checked out the awards and special presentations announced before and after the opening press conference and surveyed SFIFF58's impressive line-up of new works from France and Asia. In this last pre-fest entry, I'll spotlight some U.S. films of personal interest followed by a look beyond our northern and southern borders.

My favorite documentaries usually center on politics or the arts and there's no shortage of either at SFIFF58. Topping my must-sees is Stanley Nelson's The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution. Nelson, the consummate documentarian whose Jonestown: The Life and Death of People's Temple won the festival's Golden Gate Award in 2006, will appear at the April 25 screening along with Black Panther Party members. From roughly the same era of American history there's also Best of Enemies, which analyzes the legacy of Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley Jr.'s famously caustic 1968 TV debates. Best of Enemies is co-directed by Morgan Neville, whose Twenty Feet from Stardom enlivened the festival two years ago on its way to an Oscar® win, and Robert Gordon, who'll accompany the film's April 24 screening. A Landmark Theatres theatrical release is slated for August. For a red-hot socio-political doc with local import there's Alex Winter's Deep Web, which profiles purported Silk Road owner and founder Ross Ulbricht. Director Winter will be on hand for the film's May 4 showing, along with a panel of special guests discussing the "current states of surveillance, privacy, journalism and where they intersect on-line."

For American arts-related docs, the big event this year is the Castro Theatre showing of What Happened, Miss Simone? on the festival's second night. As an obsessed, life-long Nina fan, I've watched her perform live on several occasions and possess nearly her entire discography on vinyl. That's why I was so disheartened by the mixed reviews the film received at Sundance and Berlin. Still, I wouldn't dream of not taking a look for myself. Following the film, director Liz Garbus (Ghosts of Abu Ghraib, Bobby Fischer Against the World) will be interviewed on-stage by radio talk show host Tavis Smiley. Netflix, who bankrolled the film, will host its VOD premiere on June 26. For a music doc with a Bay Area angle there's Theory of Obscurity: A Film About The Residents. Don Hardy's film will hopefully unravel some the mystery behind the Bay Area's prolific (over 60 albums!) avant-garde musicians and multimedia artists, perhaps best known for their tuxedo, top hat and eyeball helmet stage costumes. Hardy will attend all three SFIFF screenings.

Other biographical documentaries on the SFIFF58 roster include Douglas Tirola's self-explanatory Drunk Stoned Brilliant Dead: The Story of National Lampoon and Iris, a glowing portrait of fashion maven Iris Apfel. Sadly, the latter will also go down as the farewell film from revered director Albert Maysles (Gimme Shelter, Grey Gardens), who passed away last month. In Stevan Riley's Listen To Me Marlon we'll get to experience Brando as never before, via 300 hours of secret audio tapes the actor recorded throughout his life. The film's April 25 screening will feature a special introduction by esteemed movie writer David Thomson. If you miss them at the festival, Landmark's Opera Plaza will host the theatrical release of Iris on May 8 and Listen to Me Marlon on August 7. Finally, none other than Isabella Rossellini is expected to attend the festival's world premiere of Isabella Rossellini's Green Porno Live!, director Jody Shapiro's accounting of the iconic actress' eccentrically educational, how-animals-have-sex stage show.

Looking over the roster of U.S. narrative features, I've heard really terrific things about Love & Mercy, Bill Pohlad's biopic about Beach Boys genius Brian Wilson. Paul Dano and John Cusack play the young and older Wilson respectively, with Paul Giamatti taking on Eugene Landy, the Svengali-like therapist who nearly ruined Wilson's life. What especially excites me about this film is that it's co-written by Oren Moverman, the guy who concocted Todd Haynes' radically offbeat Dylan biopic, I'm Not There. Moverman is a director as well as a screenwriter, and his new film Time Out of Mind will play at the festival's Richard Gere tribute. Love & Mercy director Pohlad will be on hand for the film's May 1 screening.

Five additional domestic features that have my interest piqued were all Sundance breakouts. Grand Jury Prize and Audience Award winner Me and Earl and the Dying Girl was a late addition to the SFIFF line-up. It receives one screening on April 29 and director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon will be there. Also garnering lots of Sundance raves was Sean Baker's Tangerine, the shot-on-iPhone 5S odyssey about a L.A. trans-hooker ferreting out her errant pimp / boyfriend on Xmas Day. Director Baker and screenwriter Chris Bergoch are expected to attend both SFIFF58 showings. Two years ago I slept through most of Andrew Bujalski's Computer Chess, but I'm still game for Results, his new Guy Pearce-starring comedy set in a Texas gym. The main attraction for me is co-star Cobie Smulders, whom I know and adore from the only network TV sit-com I've watched in 40 years (How I Met Your Mother). Results opens at Landmark's Embarcadero Cinema on June 5, followed by Tangerine on July 17.

From the festival's Vanguard section, I'm bracing myself for the unpleasantness of Rick Alverson's Entertainment, which Variety critic Scott Foundas describes as a "dark, weird odyssey through a soulless American nowhere, with perhaps the world's most abrasively unfunny insult comic as guide." Last but not least, everyone I know is excited about the Bay Area premiere of The Royal Road, the latest personal essay film from San Francisco filmmaker Jenni Olson. Shot on gorgeous 16mm film, Olson uses California's El Camino Real highway as a jumping off point to "burrow into the endlessly mineable terrains of history and memory."

There are two Canadian films in SFIFF58's line-up, Dark Wave entry The Editor and Guy Maddin's The Forbidden Room (co-written and directed by former Maddin student Evan Johnson). I believe this will be The Forbidden Room's first screening since its Sundance and Berlin premieres and I'm beyond jazzed we get to partake in it so soon. Inspired by the co-directors' dream of recreating imaginary "lost" films, The Forbidden Room appears indescribable even to those who've seen it. My favorite attempt is from Nicholas Bell at Ioncinema, who characterizes it as "a majestic culmination of Maddin's prowess in silent cinema tropes, a delirious, maddening rabbit hole of rippling nightmares that somehow, inextricably, fashion themselves into a cohesive narrative made up of cascading tangents." There's also an eye-popping cast that includes Udo Kier, Charlotte Rampling, Geraldine Chaplin and Mathieu Amalric.

Maddin's history with the festival goes all the way back to his debut feature Tales from the Gimli Hospital in 1989. He received SFIFF's Persistence of Vision Award in 2006 and who can forget the on-stage foley effects and live Joan Chen narration that accompanied 2007's presentation of Brand Upon the Brain? It's been announced that Maddin will indeed be here to present The Forbidden Room's sole SFIFF screening on April 25. If you've seen him before, you know he's an irresistible hoot. Maddin's expected appearance resolved my second biggest scheduling conundrum of SFIFF58—whether to see The Forbidden Room or the simultaneous Guillermo del Toro tribute at the Castro. Sorry, Guillermo. (My biggest scheduling conundrum? That would be the excruciating May 5 choice between Cibo Matto performing to Yoko's Fly at the Castro and the lone screening of Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Winter Sleep. The 2014 Palme d'or winner was unceremoniously slipped into SFIFF58's line-up just a few days ago and will make its Bay Area premiere the same day as the film's DVD and Blu-ray release.)

Looking southward, 2014 was somewhat of an off year for Latin American cinema. Few films from the region received much critical attention on the fest circuit and the handful of breakouts, like The Way He Looks and Futuro Beach, have already seen their Bay Area festival and theatrical releases come and go. Happily, the one Latin American film appearing on my SFIFF58 wish list did manage to make it onto the roster. With Lisandro Alonso's Jauja, South America's most noted minimalist returns with his first film in six years. Premiering in Cannes' Un Certain Regard sidebar to excellent reviews, this trippy, meta-Western is set in a Patagonian outpost with Viggo Mortensen as its unlikely star. The actor also produced and co-composed the score. A second Argentine film I'm hoping to see is Two Shots Fired, an existential comedy repping the first new feature in 10 years from New Argentine Cinema director Martín Rejtman. As he did in 1999 with Silvia Prieto and again in 2004 with Magic Gloves, Rejtman will be personally accompany his latest work to the SFIFF.

Other South American entries at SFIFF58 include new films from Chile (El Cordero), Peru (NN) and Brazil (The Second Mother). Mexico is represented solely by Arturo González Villaseñor's powerful-sounding documentary All of Me, which depicts the women who hand off food to rail-riding Central American immigrants en route to a new life in the U.S.A. From the Caribbean region SFIFF58 offers Murder in Pacot, a drama set in post-earthquake Haiti from the always interesting Raoul Peck (Lumumba). Sand Dollars arrives from Haiti's next-door neighbor and stars Geraldine Chaplin as one-half of an interracial, intergenerational lesbian couple. This work from the Dominican Republic was co-directed by Laura Amelia Guzmán and Israel Cárdenas, a filmmaking team whose impressive previous features, Cochochi (2008) and Jean Gentil (2011) screened at previous SFIFF editions.

Cross-published at film-415.