REVIEW: Prince of Broadway (A)

Writer/director Sean Baker's exceptional first feature, Take Out, is the kind of film that engages your curiosity in a rather distracting way; you feel as if you're watching a lost home video or a guerrilla-style student film. Scenes are unpredictable not necessarily because of complex plot twists (the story could not be simpler), but because at any given moment something in the vicinity of the shooting location, perhaps a stray animal or a loud car, seems certain to interrupt filming.

Was there a proper set? Were these people even actors?  The answer was yes, and no, but if you focused on the production details you'd potentially miss the most important fact of all: Take Out is a brilliant illustration of "a day in the life", of the common experiences of fear, frustration, relief, longing, hope, and countless other emotions that we as humans individually experience but collectively share. (See that film.)

Baker's new film, Prince of Broadway (opening tomorrow in New York and Sep. 24 in L.A.), is a glossier product, longer and more confidently made than Take Out. The sound and cinematography are vastly improved, if not still bound by the limits of a tiny budget, and the blocking is more tightly staged. In short, it's a more professional film, but if Baker has applied more of a sheen to this new product he has lost nothing under the surface, where thoughtful lessons about love, parenting, marriage, and friendship are framed by the unlikeliest of set-ups.

Kelly Reichardt: Off the Beaten Track @ the Walker

It's unclear to me whether this is a coincidence or the beginning of a trend, but for the second year in a row the Walker Art Center is holding a May retrospective featuring the work of a highly acclaimed American independent film director who most people have never heard of. Last year it was the rising star Ramin Bahrani, who most recently earned gushing praise for a short about a plastic bag (his third feature, Goodbye Solo, was one of my favorites of 2009). This year, it's Kelly Reichardt ("Off the Beaten Track", May 5-14), an understated filmmaker whose career has developed just as quietly, if not quite as rapidly, as Bahrani's.

REVIEW: Take Out (A)

I believe the only moment in the extraordinary Take Out that made me laugh occurred while main character Ming Ding (Charles Jang) was sweeping the sidewalk. He has one of those telescoping dust pans and brooms, and as he tries to sweep the pile into the pan, a stubborn wet piece of paper remains stuck on the cement. After three or four unsuccessful sweeps over it, he just has to bend down and pick the stupid thing up. This is a fill-in shot that lasts not more than three or four seconds, but it perfectly captures the essence of Ming Ding's frustrating situation. I sympathetically chuckled to myself, "Man, isn't that life?".

Completed in 2004 but not released on DVD until this week, Take Out is an unassuming early effort from filmmaker Sean Baker and his writing partner, Shih-Ching Tsou. The film received a very limited theatrical release last summer, but the few critics who saw it were unanimously and enthusiastically impressed. I can only add to the chorus of praise for this movie; were I to know what year to place it in it would definitely be in my Top 10. If you know my taste you won't be surprised, of course, since Take Out is another neorealistic, slice-of-life look at American culture, in this case focusing on the underworld of illegal immigration.

Ming Ding has left his wife and young child in China, smuggled through Canada by a group of unforgiving loan sharks. He makes a living, if you can call it that, as a bicycle delivery guy for a busy Chinese take-out joint on the Upper West Side. Having fallen behind on loan payments to his smugglers, Ming is giving an ultimatum one fateful morning: Pay back at least $800 of his debt that night, or see his entire debt double. How do you make $800 delivering Chinese food in just a day?

The only way he knows how: anxiously bicycling through the pouring rain all day and having cranky New Yorkers slam doors in his face, tease him about his inability to speak English, leave him coins as tips, and complain about their orders. The circumstances in which Ming works are stressful to begin with, but the added burden of his debt on this day makes every otherwise mundane interaction feel incredibly tense. Will some kind soul save Ming with a huge tip? Of course not - that doesn't happen in real life, and Take Out is about real life.

And you thought you had a bad day at work...

A person who is bored by Take Out is a person, I would argue, who is uninterested in people, uninterested in the human condition. Years ago that may have been me, someone consumed by their own existence and oblivious to the unending daily challenges faced by the other almost 7 billion people living around me. I had a heady knowledge of the world and its problems, but it was probably the four years of living in a city and commuting daily on a subway during college that really helped me study people in a new way. Where did these people come from? Where are they going? What is their story? Many of them may have surely been in the exact same situation as Ming Ding, stuck in a new country and working themselves to death in pursuit of the American Dream. In that way Take Out has much in common with Ramin Bahrani's films (especially Man Push Cart), but it's much more disturbing.

Take Out certainly sympathizes with Ming's plight, but it doesn't glorify in any way the life of a new immigrant. Ming is isolated, miserable, tired, and lacking any of the social or legal supports that so many of us take for granted. A scene in which Ming gazes at a photo of his wife and child is, in its heartbreaking silence, one of the most genuinely moving portrayals of immigrant loneliness I've ever seen. Credit is due equally to the way the scene is placed in the timeline of the story, and also the awe-inspiring performance by Charles Jang.

The acting all the way through this film is top-notch, and all the more impressive because several of the cast members are making their acting debuts. Of course, with a $3,000 - yes, $3,000 - budget, you can't afford a lot of professional talent, but every dollar of that budget was well spent. Baker and Tsou, who co-wrote and co-directed the film, could not even afford to close down the actual restaurant in which Take Out was filmed. The customers are real (several bring to mind the Chinese restaurant skit from The Fugees album, "The Score") and "Big Sister" was played by the woman who actual managed the place. The shots of food being prepared are shots of food being prepared for actual customers. It's all real and rich and absolutely mesmerizing to watch; the snappy editing moves things along in a way that doesn't allow you take your eyes off the screen.

I am perplexed as to why Take Out did not make a bigger splash in theaters or on the festival circuit. It did earn an extremely well-deserved Independent Spirit Award nomination for the John Cassavetes Award (for best film with a budget under $500,000), but lost to In Search of a Midnight Kiss. Ironically, one of the other nominees was Sean Baker's second feature film, Prince of Broadway (fingers crossed that it will see a theatrical release soon). It should say something that Baker had two films nominated in the same year. To find out why, I recommend taking a night to watch Take Out on DVD. Order some Chinese food - and make sure to tip your delivery person well.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 10
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 10
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 48/50= 96% = A

+ Official website for Take Out
+ Buy Take Out on DVD
+ Add Take Out to your Netflix queue

Taking It Home: The Battle of Algiers

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

How often has this scene played out in real life in Baghdad in recent years?

One of the benefits of my ignorance of film history is that I get to enjoy watching so many classics for the first time, often without any idea of what I'm going to experience, for better or for worse. Picking up on a tip from Rick Olson at Coosa Creek Cinema last December, I sought out the Battle of Algiers. And I'm here to report, after a period of bewildered shock, that it's one of the greatest films I've ever seen.

I must shamefully admit that going against all film etiquette and common sense...I didn't watch this in one sitting (do as I say, not as I do). I started it way too late one night and, though completely engrossed I stopped it a natural pause about halfway through, before resuming a few nights later. This may have been for the best anyway, as there are so many courses served in this meal that a pause for digestion is probably appropriate. As such, this is the kind of film that almost demands a second viewing.

Regardless of how much you know or want to know about the French occupation of Algeria, this movie is required viewing because of the literally breathtaking similarities between that situation and the current American situation in Iraq. The use of torture, the U.N. involvement, the urban warfare, the tactics of insurgents, and on and on and on and on. Not since watching The Fog of War again a few years ago have been so floored by the idea of history repeating itself.

Apart from the striking historical relevancy, there are few other really fascinating aspects to The Battle of Algiers. For starters, it's based on "Souvenirs de la Bataille d'Alger", the book written in prison by Saadi Yacef, a former leader in the National Liberation Front (FLN). So the historical account, while somewhat one-sided, is accurate and offers fascinating insights into the motives behind an insurgency. Above all of this, Yacef himself stars in the movie as the leader of the FLN!

Yes, filmed on location in Algiers only a few years after the events it portrays took place, The Battle of Algiers exists as an almost delayed-time documentary; nearly all of the people on screen actually lived through the violent years of the French occupation. The combination of the physical location (and lack of a need for a production designer), the authenticity of the actors and extras, and the incredibly gripping cinematography makes for a stunning historical record, almost better, at least visually, than an actual documentary could have produced.

Then there's the haunting, lingering, poignant, simply unforgettable score by the legendary Ennio Morricone, which inexplicably did not receive one of the three Oscar nominations garnered by The Battle of Algiers (Director, Original Screenplay, and Foreign Film). You might also recognize the score from its use in the recent Inglourious Basterds, added for no other reason than for Tarantino to "pay homage" to yet another classic film.

I can forgive Tarantino for boasting about his film knowledge, but I can't forgive another note of trivia about this movie. As you can see from the text in the trailer below (which was produced in 2004 for the re-release of the film), The Battle of Algiers was screened at the Pentagon during the early months of the Iraq War (August 27, 2003, to be exact). The idea was, one would imagine, to show the U.S. military brass what not to do in Iraq. A flier was made for the screening, which was attended by about 40 military and civilian experts.

It read as follows:

"How to win a battle against terrorism and lose the war of ideas. Children shoot soldiers at point-blank range. Women plant bombs in cafes. Soon the entire Arab population builds to a mad fervor. Sound familiar? The French have a plan. It succeeds tactically, but fails strategically. To understand why, come to a rare showing of this film."

The following week in the New York Times, Michael Kaufman analyzed the significance of this screening. Think about it - the mightiest military in the world is possibly developing their strategy based on a movie. I don't think that's inherently wrong, it just goes to show the power of film. And in the case of Iraq it was probably a good idea; as Kaufman astutely observed, "At the moment it is hard to specify exactly how the Algerian experience and the burden of the film apply to the situation in Iraq, but as the flier for the Pentagon showing suggested, the conditions that the French faced in Algeria are similar to those the United States is finding in Iraq."

That's painfully obvious to us now, but keep in mind it really was not at the time. This was only six months after Saddam's statue was toppled, only five months after President Bush declared "Mission Accomplished". So the question then becomes, if both the public and the U.S. military agreed that they were facing an identical situation at that point in the war (before Abu Ghraib, before Fallujah, before the Iraq Study Group, before the surge), why did they continue to follow the French strategy?

After all, though the French eventually won The Battle of Algiers, they ultimately lost the war two years later after a spontaneous and peaceful uprising by the Algerian citizens. The old saying of "win the battle but lose the war" could not better describe what happened. I know it's easy to scoff at the U.S. military's decisions as we enter the middle of the seventh year of this war, but rewind back to late 2003 and it's still baffling to consider why they followed a historical precedent that ultimately failed. What made them think they could achieve a different outcome? (There is a Wikipedia entry comparing the two situations if you're interested.)

It's not meant to be a rhetorical question or a smug criticism. I'm honestly curious as to how the U.S. military incorporated the lessons from The Battle of Algiers into the Iraq War strategy.

If you have not seen this movie, immediately add it to your Netflix queue. If you've been following along with the Iraq War since 2003 you'll be shocked and possibly outraged. If you haven't been following along, well consider this a crash course in what's happened - for the second time.

What did you take home?

REVIEW: Goodbye Solo (A-)

"A Pakistani guy, a couple of Hispanic kids, a Senegalese guy, even William, who feels even more like an outsider in Winston-Salem than Solo—that’s a huge part of the meaning. These are three American films by an American director named, Ramin Bah-what? Starring who? Yeah, these are three American films starring three American people made by an American guy. And if you don’t believe it, look at the last election."

- Ramin Bahrani in an interview in Reverse Shot, Issue 23

Despite the general consensus that "change" in America arrived on January 20th, 2009, Ramin Bahrani has done his best in Man Push Cart, Chop Shop, and now Goodbye Solo to show us that change actually arrived quite a while ago, not evidenced by the person in the White House but the person in the house down the block from you. He's attempted to expose us to the "new" America, the immigrant America, the Bahrani America, and insofar as I'm the only member of my family born here, my America, too.

That's one way to look at Bahrani's films, and it can lead to effusive, perhaps blindingly positive praise on my part, or wary, perhaps unfair charges of "immigrant chic" on the part of others (I really appreciated the conversation, Fox). To the extent that Goodbye Solo is made in the same general style as his last two films and showcases the same general characters, the same general praise and criticism may be applied.

But I think another way to view Bahrani's films, particularly Goodbye Solo, is to remove the immigrant factor and simply examine the relationships between the characters (which Bahrani himself did for nearly an hour following its premiere at the Walker on April 3rd, and then even longer to the people who wanted to personally chat with him). The relationships in Goodbye Solo are unlikely and unbelievable until you realize, on further examination, that they are completely likely and surprisingly believable. Yes, Bahrani again finds hope in the bleakness that many filmmakers celebrate, but what's so great about bleakness anyway?

Solo (Souleymane Sy Savane, nicknamed "Solo" in real life) is a Senegalese cab driver in Winston-Salem, North Carolina (Bahrani's hometown). From his incessant chattering, scanning eyes, and flirtatious banter with the cab dispatcher, we know that he is a lively, spontaneous, happy-go-lucky guy: a male version of Poppy Cross, as well as the stereotypical foreign-accented cabbie who never knows when to shut up. When he picks up a fare in the form of an obviously suicidal grouch named William (Red West), Solo finds himself flustered to the point of desperation; he'll do and sacrifice anything to persuade his new friend to change his plans. On the surface, this friendship between starry-eyed immigrant and cantankerous misanthrope is right out of Gran Torino. It's a spin-off, the parallel story of Walt Kowalski's war buddy who lives in North Carolina.

But William is not Walt, and Solo is not Thao, and while this relationship is also one based on protection, there's more maturity, intimacy, and respect developing under the surface. The two characters still learn the typical lessons from each other about the importance of family and yada yada yada, but it's window dressing for a story that's essentially about people looking for reasons to live, and ways of living. Over the course of several weeks, Solo has to learn to accept William's plan (for practical purposes as much as anything else since he's supposed to drive him to the jump-off point at Blowing Rock), and William has to learn to accept Solo's care and comfort. They complement each other because they know that the other one has something they don't; Solo experiences William's freedom and independence, William experiences Solo's family. Neither of them know how to access these things without each other.

Ramin Bahrani talked a lot about love in the discussion following Goodbye Solo, particularly how love means giving people permission to make their own decision even if you don't agree with them. That's a nice sentiment and it's well established in the film, but it's not the primary reason I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it because, as A.O. Scott lucidly noted last month, "these people and their situations are nonetheless recognizable, familiar on a basic human level even if their particular predicaments are not."

It's that idea of understanding through vicarious living that inspires me, both between the characters in the film and between the viewers and the characters. The originality and purpose of Bahrani's style can be argued, but I think his motives are pure, his films are honest, and, as evidenced by Goodbye Solo, his voice is consistently refreshing.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 10
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - 4
Social Significance - 5

Total: 46/50= 92% = A-

REVIEW: Chop Shop (A-)

Background: Just over a year ago, Iranian-American writer/director Ramin Bahrani's Man Push Cart received an Independent Spirit Award nomination for "Best First Feature." Though his film didn't take home the prize, Bahrani was back just a year later, this time winning the 2008 "Someone to Watch" award for Chop Shop, his second feature (he also made a highly regarded student film, Strangers, which I haven't seen). Not yet in his mid-30's, Bahrani has already established himself as an emerging master of cinema vérité. His films are shot on location with non-actors, in this case Alejandro Polanco, 12, and Isamar Gonzales, 16, both Puerto Ricans who attend the same school in New York, NY. Also making an appearance in Chop Shop is Ahmad Razvi, whose only other acting credit is in - you guessed it - Man Push Cart.

Synopsis : Alejandro ("Ale", played by Polanco) is a pre-teen wandering the muddy auto yards behind Shea Stadium in Willet's Point, Queens. We know nothing about him, but it's clear he doesn't attend school. His dirty clothes tell us he might be homeless, and his restless, tenacious independence tells us that he's probably parentless as well. Soon enough, we learn he indeed lives alone in the garage where he works, and his diet consists of cola and microwave popcorn. Who knows the last time he had a hug, a shower, or a square meal; Ale's eyes show a fire burning within a kid who's been given nothing in life. His older sister, Isamar (Gonzales), unceremoniously arrives to work in a lunch truck at the auto yards, and they share a bed in the perch of a room that's not bigger than a prison cell. Their plan is to work and save up enough money to buy their own lunch truck. Ale sells bootleg DVD's and candy bars, but mostly solicits the arriving cars to get serviced at his shop instead of the countless others (this isn't your local Midas; this is the place you go when your friend says he "knows a guy" that can fix your muffler). Occasionally, Ale also helps Ahmed (Razvi) take apart cars in his chop shop. In addition to her lunch duties, Isamar is doing some servicing of her own - dirty men, late at night. These two siblings love each other, but hate what they each have to do to get ahead. Whether they eventually earn up to buy the truck is almost beside the point, even though it's the film's primary driver. The story isn't necessarily meant to end anywhere; like the characters and the settings, it just exists as a moment in time.

I Loved:
+ Alejandro Polanco and Isamar Gonzales, whose presence was so natural that they made Chop Shop appear to be a documentary.
+ The last scene, especially the final shot - it's in the running as one of my favorites of the year.
+ The authentic feel to the film's elements. Aside from the actors and the location, also the lighting, noise, behavior, etc.

I Liked:
+ Seeing Ahmad Razvi again, even though he was almost playing the exact same character, Ahmad, from Man Push Cart.

I Disliked:
- Ale's annoying friend, Carlos.

I Hated:
- The accents, occasionally. It's an acquired taste that I was still working on at the end of the movie.

Grade:
Writing - 7
Acting - 10
Production - 8
Emotional Impact - 9
Music - N/A
Significance - 5

Total: 41/45= 91% = A-

Last Word: There's no way to really qualify this statement, but I want to call Ramin Bahrani one of the most daring filmmakers currently working. He pulls out stories and characters that we have no way of identifying with and inexplicably puts them into situations we've never come close to experiencing. He doesn't use musical scores. His films don't really have a beginning or an end. He doesn't even use actors. Yet somehow, and perhaps as a consequence of his method, his films come together as honest, beautiful, neoreal glimpses into the lives of Americans that most of us haven't - and probably won't - ever get to know. Bahrani explores the third dimension in film, that which exists between documentary and fictional narrative. It's a fascinating, refreshing experience to see a film made my someone who doesn't follow any of the conventional rules, including that which says there needs to be a tidy ending. For these reasons, Chop Shop will wear down the impatient viewer, and a low tolerance for thick Queens accents may cause a major distraction. You won't find the answers for the countless questions going through your head (i.e., What happened to their parents?) - which is the point. The film exists as these lives exist, but hopefully Americans will pay a lot more attention to Chop Shop than we have to its all-too-real characters.