A Refreshing Realism

Realism is an actor's genre.

Ellar Coltrane

Richard Linklater's Boyhood pushes realism past it's persistent 19th century parameters by filming a plotless movie over the course of twelve years so that we can watch the characters age. The lack of a plot paints a realistic picture of what growing up is like: boyhood doesn't have an inciting incident, rising action, climax, falling action and neat resolution followed by a denouement. At the same time, a three hour film that doesn't give us the orgasmically structured rush we're used to could be a real drag. It takes good actors schooled in psychological realism to make it come off, and Linklater proves that he knows how to pick them.

Boyhood follows Mason (Ellar Coltrane) and Samantha (Lorelei Linklater) as they grow up in suburban Texas. Their dad (Ethan Hawke) is trying to involve himself in their lives, and their mom (Patricia Arquette) wants to find them a good step-dad. The kids get and break up with girlfriends and boyfriends. They experiment with booze and pot, and put up Obama signs with their dad. Mason discovers his passion for photography, and both kids grow up and leave for college.

That sounds about as interesting as watching grass grow, right? That's because the story isn't that interesting. What's interesting is how the actors, principally the core four (Coltrane, Linklater, Hawke and Arquette) inhabit their roles. The Realism with which they approach their roles isn't the American Method. The Method calls for a strong focus on objectives and tactics. Think of it this way, if you're acting using the American Method, you want to figure out what your character wants from your scene partner. It's got to be something concrete, something you'll recognize and celebrate if you get. You start with one tactic to get what you want from them, and if that doesn't pay off, you move on to another. In real life, we might act this way in a job interview or during a break-up, but we generally aren't so Machiavellian. The Boyhood cast acts in a way that reflects the way we really are. When Sheena (Zoe Graham) breaks up with Mason, he is clearly trying to get her to take him back. The mom has a clear goal when she needs to get her kids out of a dangerous situation. Arquette, however, doesn't have a clear objective with its test in Coltrane when he leaves for college. Sometimes you're just sad without ulterior motives, and Arquette reflects that with a refreshing honesty. Linklater set out to make a film that portrays an honest boyhood, and so he needs a cast whose acting could take Realism past it's unfortunate conflation with the American Method. Fortunately, he put together a stellar cast who can move past the American Method towards real Realism. By doing so, Boyhood presents intrinsically relatable characters, an accomplishment that allows the audience to emphasize with them on a deeply human level.

A Familiar Flamingo

La Vida Boheme's Flamingo tells a classic story of death and rebirth using animation reminiscent of 1930s Disney.

La Vida Boheme (Henry D'Arthenay, Daniel de Sousa, Sebastián Ayala and Rafael Pérez Medina) complement their rock ballad with a cartoon drawn in the old-school Steamboat Willie that tells a familiar story. By doing the classics, and doing them well, La Vida Boheme creates an enduring film soundtracked by their Flamingo.

 

The band chooses to tell an uplifting story about death and rebirth. The use of childlike, familiar imagery and contrasts between light and dark, color and monochrome emphasize the narrative content. It goes to show that sometimes the old ways are the best ways.

By using highly accessible techniques to tell a story intimately familiar to anyone with a passing knowledge of Christian mythology, La Vida Boheme have created a modern classic.

Storytelling with Wolf & Crow

Nothing beats a strong story.

Folk band Wolf & Crow (Mathieu Stemmelen and Zachary Vieira) tell a compelling love story in their "Love in the Time of Advertising." Their simultaneously dry and imaginative sense of humor adds warmth to the story that's beautifully animated by Matt Berenty.

 

It's an endearing little love story about how nothing beats human interaction. The earnestness with which Wolf & Crow tell it and Berenty animates it sell it, but none of that would matter if the story itself wasn't strong.

When it comes right down to it, music videos are about telling a song's story. It doesn't hurt that "Love in the Time of Advertising" is a narrative poem set to old-timey country pickin'. The video doesn't give much evidence of whether or not Wolf & Crow have much going for them as musicians, but as storytellers they can't be beat.

Jenny Schweitzer's Simple Success

A successful documentary is a simple film that provides a platform for the interviewees to tell their own stories.

Jenny Schweitzer's Flor de Toloache does just that for an all-female mariachi band, casting light upon their response to the machismo that characterizes the genre.

Flor de Toloache is part of Schweitzer's Rhythm in Motion, a ten part series of short documentaries about the musicians who busk in New York City's subway system. Traditionally, mariachi bands are dominated by men. Flor de Toloache, the band featured in the eponymous film, runs against that macho grain by featuring an all-women line-up.

Flor de Toloache exists within the broader context of international patriarchy and the ways in which such social structures limit women's opportunities. By simply allowing the interviewees to describe the problem and their solution for it, Schweitzer creates a compelling and positive movie.

Rather than focus on herself as a filmmaker, or even upon the individuals interviewed, Schweitzer's Flor de Toloache allows the expert interviewees to interpret a cultural event for us. The event is not isolated: it exists within a social structure that we all participate in. Flor de Toloache is an educational documentary that is well-made because it is made simply.

Philip Knowlton and Narrative Over Planting

Giving story precedence over style goes a long way. In fact, a sloppy approach to story can ruin an otherwise promising movie.

Take Philip Knowlton's Flower Shop and included in SIFF's "Face the Music" package. It's a short documentary that squeezes in two related but separate stories, and tries to cover the bad dramaturgy with cloying editing.

The film spends about the first half describing the history of Carolina Florist, the "oldest African-American flower shop in NYC." References to Phil Young's halting drum career punctuate that history. Through use of titles, we're guided through that history and into Young's resurrected devotion to music-making, illustrated by slow motion shots of Young relishing in his art. He describes how kids in Harlem are denied music and art in school, and how he and his band realized that they had "something to give to the kids."

Knowlton has a lot things going on in his film that, if he focused upon them instead of upon his fetish for slow motion, would make for a compelling movie. He could have focused on the flower shop's rise and fall, or he could have told the story of bringing jazz to the kids. Instead, he crams both into a short documentary. As if that weren't bad enough, he wastes precious time with his cloying slow motion shots of Phil Young drumming. His videography gets in the way of his storytelling.

Documentaries are meant to tell a story, not to exhibit the editor's filmic flourishes. In the end, Flower Shop is a messy example of style taking primacy over story. Knowlton may know his way around editing software, but he knows next to nothing about making a movie.

Will Farrar Move Out of Mediocrity?

If you're going to be a twee musician, you've got to find a way to set yourself apart from all the other twee musicians. Cassandra Farrar, judging by her music video Moving Out, is just another Zooey Deschanel wannabe with bangs and a guitar.

The song is a dime-a-dozen heart-ache ballad. The corresponding video is a nonsensical series of references to pop culture (like The Ring) and classic art (like Starry Night) that vaguely reference the lyrics.

 

 

If music videos are promotional tools for new singles, then Farrar makes an unconvincing case for why we ought to care about her music. The contents of her song and of her music video are almost obtrusive in their lack of originality: the video, in fact, seems to revel in it. At the same time, they are both competently done. The mediocrity of it ultimately makes Farrar's music forgettable.

Cassandra Farrar is an unremarkable addition to the ranks of twee musicians. She's not bad, but nor is she good. She is competent, and, judging by the long list of credits at the end of her video, she has a healthy basis of professional support. If she can add some originality to her act, she can work her way out of the mire of mediocrity that she's starting her musical career in.

Focus on the Work, Owerko

The Boombox Project is a bad commercial for Lyle Owerko's exhibition book of the same name.

The Boombox Project, directed by Paul Stone and featured in SIFF's "Face the Music" package, tells a flimsy story that focuses more upon an apparently self-involved artist than upon the product it seeks to sell.

The film begins with an expository focus on Owerko and how he began taking pictures while vacationing in Holland, and how he fancies himself a "creative anthropologist." He alludes to the boombox's position as a cultural icon for youth of the '80s and '90s, before briefly describing how he photographed and exhibited them and lets us know there's a book we can buy.

The film's intent is to sell us on his product, but the execution doesn't deliver. The focus seems to be on Owerko as opposed to his exhibition book, and he is a less than compelling protagonist. A Dutch vacation and professionally identifying by a self-invented term make Owerko seem overly privileged and unrelatable. The effect is not only alienation from the artist, but from the art that he's selling.

If the intent of The Boombox Project is to sell the audience on Owerko's exhibition book, it does a poor job. By focusing on uninteresting aspects of Owerko instead of upon the exhibition itself, the film makes us wonder why we should even care.