Ivans xtc.

The film begins with Ivan Beckman's death. He says, in a phone call heard as we see various hazy images of Los Angeles, that the pain was so great that he took every pill in the house. He also says that he tried to think of one image that could help him get through it.

He does *not* get through it. So next we see his funeral, at which a fight breaks out between a screenwriter, who has recently been fired from his film, and the star of the film. We also hear people questioning the cause of death. They have been told that Ivan died of lung cancer, but they all assume that it was really drugs that brought him down.

And then suddenly we have jumped back in time, to the last part of Ivan's life. Ivan (played by Danny Huston, son of John Huston) is a Hollywood agent. He's trying to make a movie happen and to land the star, Don West (Peter Weller), as a client. The actual content of the script isn't important to Ivan, but the deal is. Other significant characters include the screenwriter Danny McTeague (played by James Merendino, who really is a writer) and Ivan's girlfriend Charlotte White (Lisa Enos, who also helped write and produce the film).

This is not a Hollywood film. It was shot on high definition video and doesn't look as good as some other high definition films I've seen. This plus the so-so acting of some of the minor character actors made the film feel amateurish at first, but after a while I was able to forget about the mechanics and get inside the story.

It is also clearly not a Hollywood film because of its very negative portrayal of the people in show business. Ivan is seen as a heavy drug user who doesn't really care about the film, and Don West (the star) is even less likable.

But while the characters may not be likable, they are all quite interesting. And the lessons about life and death and what happens in between also make this a film I was glad to have seen.

Credits: There's a new trend these days of saving all of the credits for the end, including the names of the stars and even the title. This film is the complete opposite - all of the credits are at the beginning of the film, leaving only the soundtrack credits for the end. I don't think this means anything, unless the filmmakers thought people would be walking out early, but it seemed worth mentioning. The credits do affect the feel of a film.

Seen on 8/21/2002.

I love this film. Danny Huston, in a remarkable performance, makes you care for a truly unloveable character. The film shows us the vile antics of those charged with maintaining the glam facade of Hollywood and the big studios. Let's have more on this theme. Some on these pages think this film smacks of jealousy; that somehow Bernard Rose is envious of the morally bankrupt lives led by the likes of Ivan. He's not (how could anyone be?). When Ivan muses on his fate and tries to find one, just one, memory that would make it all worthwhile, he comes up blank. It would appear to your average punter, who's taken in by the trappings of wealth and showbiz, that Ivan had it all. In the end, we see he has nothing. His death scene is one of the most moving ever committed to celluloid, sorry, HD-V. Consider the response of his colleagues on hearing the news of his demise. Consider the response of his former clients. Those with a knowledge of the way these agencies work will know that this film is eerily accurate. There are so many shocking, uncomfortable and perversely funny scenes in this film that you'll be thinking about it for a long time afterwards. Wow, a film about Hollywood that actually makes you think. How weird is that?

I saw this movie without any real knowledge of what it was about (other than some vague memory of having read a good review and quick peruse of the cover at the rental store).

The use of video tape (rather than conventional film), hand held work, some rough cuts and supports acting that treads a fine line between jarring and being naturalistic all took soem time to tune in to (too used to slick Hollywood narrative style!).

But it was certainly worth the effort.

Partly an acidic take on the Hollywood machine (cynicism, drug abuse,deference) but also a film about a man (Ivan) desperately seeking meaning in a world where he can find none. The final scenes, where Ivan seems to come to terms with his end take on a strange beauty.

The decision to run all the credits up front, save for the music and an 'in memory of' add to the final poignancy.

Loosely based on Tolstoy's 'The Death of Ivan Ilych' this searing indictment of Hollywood must be one of the most under-appreciated films of the last ten years.

Danny Huston plays Ivan Beckman, a typically sleazy, coke-snorting Tinseltown agent who is forced to confront the emptiness of his life when he learns that he is dying of cancer. Amongst the many people with whom he is surrounded but cannot confide in are hotshot director Danny McTeague (James Merendino), gun-toting homophobic mega-star Don West (Peter Weller), and Ivan's girlfriend, Charlotte (Lisa Enos), who may or may not be using him to further her own ambitions.

IVANS XTC. actually begins with the news of Ivan's death, and apart from the first 15 minutes or so the story is told in flashback. This works superbly because we immediately discover just how meaningless Ivan's life and career really were. Nobody really gave a damn about him (nor does anyone believe for a minute that he died of cancer rather than a cocaine OD), and his death merely serves as an inconvenience to those involved in the film project he was trying to get started (West and McTeague even have the insensitivity to confront each other in the middle of Ivan's funeral service!).

When Ivan learns of his cancer he tries to binge his way to redemption through drink, drugs, and women, but there is none to be found. Nothing can ease his physical or emotional pain. He can't even find an image of beauty or happiness in his head - everything he can think of is "shit". Ivan was already a victim even before the cancer took hold.

Many films have successfully attacked the excessive yet soulless Hollywood machine in recent years e.g THE PLAYER and SWIMMING WITH SHARKS, but IVAN's XTC. is perhaps even better (British writer-director Bernard Rose drew from many of his own bitter experiences). The film is shot entirely on DV (with oddly effective use of Wagner as musical accompaniment!) and this gives it a documentary-style realism (you really feel you're in the back of that limo with West as he snorts coke off Charlotte's leg). It is also to the film-makers' credit that no punches are pulled when it comes to conveying exactly what Ivan's cancer is doing to him (the visceral last reel is not for the squeamish).

The performances are first-rate all round, but Huston is especially brilliant and should have had an Oscar nomination. Although Ivan is an unpleasant individual - and Rose never dresses him up to be anything but - Huston manages to elicit the viewer's sympathy simply by demonstrating Ivan's ever more desperate need for something to fill the complete void that is his quickly fading life. As far as the 'terminal illness' genre goes this film is ultimately far more moving than blatantly manipulative stuff like TERMS OF ENDEARMENT and MY LIFE precisely because there is absolutely no on-screen sentimentality whatsoever. Ivan's one moment of true tenderness comes not with Charlotte or with any of his friends or family... but with a nurse he doesn't even know. The glorious closing shot is surely one the best in recent film-making history.

This is a disturbing film that is at times difficult to watch. Yet at the same time it is so perceptive and involving that one feels it actually deserves several viewings. Highly recommended.

This is really one of the most honest, most genuinely unnerving films I have ever seen (and I have seen a lot, by any standards). My lady and i didn't speak the whole hour driving home, just sat in stunned contemplation of this stunning film. As we drove, I could almost not believe just how superb this film was.

Huston is an absolute revelation as Ivan, a once-in-a-lifetime performance that seems to have sprung into life fully formed and whole. His is one of the greatest faces cinema has offered, full of humanity and pathos, at once a recognisable everyman and a unique and extraordinary figure.

The narrative's initially gimmicky flashback structure become essential as we are allowed to see the fundamental pointlessness of the feckless Ivan's life even before we meet him.

Flashing back, we then see the last few weeks of Ivan's life as he finds he has terminal cancer and slowly wastes away, surrounded by the most tacky/glamourous trappings of Hollywood life.

From the early realisation of Ivan's insignificance, we are drawn to see him as fully alive and utterly human.

This is the triumph of the director's intensely humanist vision, a moving testament to the individual worth and humanity of each of us, even the most lost and dissolute amongst us.

Equally rich are the surrounding performances, the whole cast working tiny wonders, but special mention certainly belongs to Huston and also Peter Weller, the latter giving what I think must be his strongest ever role. His sleazy big-shot actor is an instant classic, utterly true and blackly comic.

I lived and worked in the industry in Hollywood and I recognised many of the characters and situations. In the whole film, not one false note was struck. The locations expertly chosen, from the Sky bar to the winding backroads around Mulholland and Hollywood Blvd at dawn, the feel of Ivan's Hollywood was exactly right.

I recommend this film to anyone looking for difficult but richly rewarding, thought-provoking cinema. It is not entertainment, but it performs the quiet miracles that few film-makers even attempt, let alone achieve with these devastating results. A triumph, a truly visionary work and clearly a labour of love for all involved, Ivan's xtc is simply astounding, quite the equal to the early works of Ingmar Bergman and I can think of no higher praise than that.