A.V. Club's Wisconsin Film Festival live-blog: Friday
Decider became self-aware back in October of last year, and ever since, this publication has been eagerly awaiting its chance to properly cover the Wisconsin Film Festival. From Thursday afternoon through Sunday evening, we three writers (yeah, it's a sausage party, we didn't plan it that way) will be blogging with anecdotes and our two cents about a lot of films. It'll all happen right on this page, so just keep checking back throughout the Festival, and hang on to our Twitter feed as well. There may be a bit of time delay, since we'll often be sitting through movies and whatnot, but we'll do our best to make it snappy. If you feel like leaving us a comment, we'll try and reply to you between screenings. Also, all the previews we've run on Festival films so far are handily collected right here. Thanks for reading. (Also, it's in reverse chronological order, so the most current stuff stays at the top. Previous days: Thursday.)
John (12:20 a.m.): Where Tokyo Sonata is a clinic on film-making, Harvard Beat Yale 29-29 uses an economy that fits it perfectly to show why football is such a silly, serious game. Director Kevin Rafferty Intersperses footage of the game with commentary from its competitors that relate both to the game and their lives at the time.
Harvard player Tommy Lee Jones is the only bona fide celebrity interviewed from either team there are quite a few famous names bandied about. Yale players found their way into Gary Trudeau's Doonesbury. Jones hilariously deadpans how he and former roommate Al Gore would "have fun" by playing Dixie on their new push button phone. In contrast, George W. Bush was roaming the Yale campus and clinging to goalposts while in an inebriated state.
The players were no slouches either. Yale halfback Calvin Hill was a first-round pick of the Dallas Cowboys, and Yale quarterback Brian Dowling never played in a losing game dating back to the seventh grade.
With the outcome already in the title, the journey is the goal in this documentary.
The players were no slouches either. Yale halfback Calvin Hill was a first-round pick of the Dallas Cowboys, and Yale quarterback Brian Dowling never played in a losing game dating back to the seventh grade.
With the outcome already in the title, the journey is the goal in this documentary.
Aside from Brett Favre practical joke excerpts, this is probably the funniest football-related viewing I've ever had.
--Yale linebacker Mike Bouscaren plays the perfect goat and bogeyman. Not only does he brag about hurting a player, but is caught on tape being on the other side of the field during the play in question. He's also ultimately mostly to blame for Yale's failure to win.
--the tv announcer uses great lines like "the Crimson sideline is in ecstasy" and "from the intriguing town of Mingo Junction, Ohio."
--when one player describes the game as the greatest moment of his life, the director interjects "Were you a virgin?"
--Yale linebacker Mike Bouscaren plays the perfect goat and bogeyman. Not only does he brag about hurting a player, but is caught on tape being on the other side of the field during the play in question. He's also ultimately mostly to blame for Yale's failure to win.
--the tv announcer uses great lines like "the Crimson sideline is in ecstasy" and "from the intriguing town of Mingo Junction, Ohio."
--when one player describes the game as the greatest moment of his life, the director interjects "Were you a virgin?"
John (11:05 p.m.): Wow. Wow. Tokyo Sonata. Wow. I feel like I just got kicked in the crotch...of my heart. It's hard to justify calling a study of a middle-class family as full of eye and ear candy that has to be experienced, but there it was right on the screen. Every scene by director Kiyoshi Kurosawa and cinematographer Akiko Ashizawa is perfectly composed from the kitchen of the Sasaki family to downtown Tokyo to the bathrooms at the mall (even the dirty toilets look gorgeous). The same attention to detail is given to the sound editing where every footstep and rustling paper adds to the drama without distracting from it.
The motivation for the story's plot should be familiar to nearly everyone in the developed world by now. Middle manager Ryuhei Sasaki has his job out-sourced and at first spends his time at parks and libraries with others in the same straits in order conceal that fact from his family. Meanwhile, his eldest son is wilting in his part-time job, and his youngest is sneaking his lunch money to pay for clandestine piano lessons (which Ryuhei has forbidden). Ryuhei's wife Megumi is tasked with keeping the family together, or at least talking to each other.
It's an old formula, but so well-crafted that it all seems brand new. Scenes slip effortlessly from quirky to dramatic without ever dipping into farce or sentimentality, and the pacing is perfect to let the eye roam the screen and still not miss a moment of performance.
The motivation for the story's plot should be familiar to nearly everyone in the developed world by now. Middle manager Ryuhei Sasaki has his job out-sourced and at first spends his time at parks and libraries with others in the same straits in order conceal that fact from his family. Meanwhile, his eldest son is wilting in his part-time job, and his youngest is sneaking his lunch money to pay for clandestine piano lessons (which Ryuhei has forbidden). Ryuhei's wife Megumi is tasked with keeping the family together, or at least talking to each other.
It's an old formula, but so well-crafted that it all seems brand new. Scenes slip effortlessly from quirky to dramatic without ever dipping into farce or sentimentality, and the pacing is perfect to let the eye roam the screen and still not miss a moment of performance.
Jason (11:00 p.m.): It’s hard to imagine watching a more affecting movie than The Good Solider during the festival, because it may be as affecting a movie as I’ve ever seen. It took one seemingly simple question—What makes a good solider?—and reduced the answer to its essence. That being, the ability to kill other human beings. Using the voices of veterans from WWII, Vietnam, the Gulf War, and Iraq, each gave this exact same answer, and they all spoke not only of their guilt and regret, but also of how at some point during their time in the military they needed to kill. Their reasons were different, but the training that gave them the skills and permission was not. I found it both hard to watch and hard to turn away from, and I know I’ll never look at the words “collateral damage” in the same way again. Really powerful stuff.
Random notes:
--While I was waiting in line, I glanced at a guy behind me wearing a beret loaded with hardware. When I turned to ask him if he was a veteran, I realized his beret was actually weighted down with festival buttons. Madison, you rarely disappoint.
--While I was waiting in line, I glanced at a guy behind me wearing a beret loaded with hardware. When I turned to ask him if he was a veteran, I realized his beret was actually weighted down with festival buttons. Madison, you rarely disappoint.
Scott (7-8:30 p.m.): Fortunately, there's room for everyone in the "rush" (last-minute ticket-needers) line at this screening of three shorts. Also, the festival's volunteers so far seem really friendly and helpful with everyone. I had almost declared a personal ban on documentaries about dudes with quirky obsessions, but Randall Wood's "Rare Chicken Rescue" made me remember why I actually like that kind of thing. Australian farmer Mark Tully credits his chickens and turkeys—some of them true poodles of poultry—with helping him fend off his depression. He's determined to keep rare breeds from dying out, though a few he's searching for seem to be fading to mythical status, especially the "Sumatran" he continually asks about as he meets farmers in Australia and Tasmania. Granted, it's hard not to giggle at the repeated use of the phrase "poultry fanciers." The film brings out a certain duality in the crowd: When some dogs rip up another poultry fancier's lovingly bred birds, a sharp gasp of terror arises from the audience; but no one can help chuckling when Tully lustily barks out an order for "chicken!" at lunch.
"Ladies Of The Land" isn't quite as striking as a character study, but it does make me admire its title characters, who, as one puts it, are determined to be farmers, not farm wives. They've got an idealism and assertiveness that, uh, everyone who eats should aspire to. And even though none of the farmers in this film were born to farming (as far as I can tell?), they take a certain pride in being "Women with shit on their shoes."
"Fishin' For Tradition: The Lutefisk Saga" is, for newcomers, a crash course in the grossness of lutefisk and/or a glorious Norwegian tradition. Serving suggestions provided for lutefisk: With butter ("almost a stick of butter for everybody that's here," explains one fellow at a church lutefisk dinner in Madison), or with a handy squeeze-bottle of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. Lovely. You can see why the traditional affection for the stuff also goes hand-in-hand with a traditional loathing.
Random notes:
-One shot of headless, gutted fish drying on racks in "Lutefisk" reminds me of a scene in Darwin's Nightmare, only less sinister. (But if you're ready to graduate to a much more stomach-churning movie that involves a lot of fish, I'd suggest DN.)
-Chickens never look happy, even when their plumage is splendiferous.
-Ladies Of The Land all takes place closer to the East Coast, which is comforting: Sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that organic/foodie idealism exists beyond places like Madison.
-One shot of headless, gutted fish drying on racks in "Lutefisk" reminds me of a scene in Darwin's Nightmare, only less sinister. (But if you're ready to graduate to a much more stomach-churning movie that involves a lot of fish, I'd suggest DN.)
-Chickens never look happy, even when their plumage is splendiferous.
-Ladies Of The Land all takes place closer to the East Coast, which is comforting: Sometimes it's nice to have a reminder that organic/foodie idealism exists beyond places like Madison.
Jason (7:30 p.m.): Maybe I’m cranky, but a simply uplifting documentary just doesn’t do it for me. I need to know why. Football Under Cover follows a German women’s club soccer team who travels to Iran to play the Iranian national women’s team. Prior to this particular game, no team had ever done this. Why? I’m not sure—director Peter Assmann’s (that’s AHH-ssman, Kramer) movie never really told us. One of the players from the German team knows one of the Iranian team members, and visits her while the details of the match are being finalized. How does she know her? We never find out. This same Iranian player isn’t allowed to take part in the match. Why? Well, I can’t tell you.
There were some nice moments: the stirring post-game shots of both teams walking hand-in-hand to salute the crowd, and the fun glimpses into the lives of the Iranian women (Beckham posters on the wall, lots of video game playing), but mostly I was left with more questions than I went in with. It was a decent movie, but in no way engrossing. I won’t tell you the result of the game, but I can say if I were keeping score for myself, I’d be 0-for-1. I have high hopes for The Good Soldier and JCVD, though.
Random thoughts:
--I finally got to see the “We Like It Here” promo video that everyone’s been talking so much about. I concur; it’s great.
--Assmann took questions after the movie, but I only stuck around for a couple. Why? Quite honestly, the Orpheum seats were killing me.
--I finally got to see the “We Like It Here” promo video that everyone’s been talking so much about. I concur; it’s great.
--Assmann took questions after the movie, but I only stuck around for a couple. Why? Quite honestly, the Orpheum seats were killing me.
John (6:55 p.m.): Just got out of Handmade Nation, which I loved for what are probably all the wrong reasons. The Milwaukee-made (but nationally filmed) documentary does a good job championing the phenomenon of punk rock aesthetic expressing itself in crafting. But seriously, somebody needs to make a pitch to Christopher Guest because this is another sub-culture ripe for parody. Not to marginalize the great interviews with cut paper and calendar artist Nikki McClure and the owners of Little Friends of Printmaking, but when I got into the Union Play Circle the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It seemed like everyone on the screen and in the theater were wearing those glasses.
Then I started having to cough down guffaws when reading crafting names like Blissen, susanstars (who takes a break from crafting by blogging about crafting), and India Romeo (“Lovely Things for Lovely People”).
For fun I started writing down the buzzwords and made up a quick sentence for anyone who’d like to fit in at a punk rock craft show.
“Hello, I am an emerging artist who consciously makes functional, unique pieces from repurposed materials to display in my local DIY (do it yourself) non-threatening space.”
“This is where the magic happens,” would also be acceptable.
“This is where the magic happens,” would also be acceptable.
That said, for every cliché in the film there were artists sharing original thoughts and journeys. With my waffle hands, I don’t think I’ll be getting crafty anytime soon, but I don’t mind watching.
Scott (6:30 p.m.): Turns out the shorts program coming up next here is pretty popular. Hope they can squeeze me in so I can learn about lutefisk and chickens and lady farmers. It's not looking good.
Scott (5:30-6:30 p.m.): Stand Up: Muslim American Comics Come Of Age details the struggles of a group of Arab-Americans who mixed humor with a freshly assertive identity in the wake of 9/11. Maysoon Zaid, who describes herself as a Muslim, Palestinian virgin from New Jersey, proves the most smashingly quotable onstage and off: "Where my Syrians at?"; I believe in Allah, I really do, but I'm very sparkly"; "Where my hijabis at?" One Dean Obeidallah holds them all together, organizing the New York Arab American Comedy Festival while also working as a staffer at Saturday Night Live and doing his own stand-up sets. Tissa Hami takes her chances with a set at a very traditional-feeling celebration of the end of Ramadan. Hami's especially good at handling awkwardness and misperceptions without getting defensive. It's overall a very brief, punchy look at five comedians, their entrepreneurial willingness to burn up shoeleather, and their material—which, yes, involves a lot of jokes about flying, but has plenty else going for it too.
Scott (5:05 p.m.): Damn, the Monona Terrace lecture/screening hall is posh. I'm still kind of sore from the Play Circle's seats last night. I run into my friend Mark, who's taking a break from his shifts as a Film Fest volunteer. He tells me that security guards with night-vision goggles kept an eye out for potential movie bootleggers at Thursday's screening of 500 Days Of Summer at the Orpheum.
Jason (4:30 p.m.): Even a half-hour early, the line for Football Under Cover is still stretching beyond Jack’s Shoes. People are in good spirits, though. I’ll be interested to see if everyone is still this chipper come Sunday, or if a general weariness will have set in.
Jason (3:25 p.m.): I’m feeling like such a slacker. Here Scott and John have already knocked off five films, and I’ve yet to hit even one. The Gaslight Anthem is an enticing mistress though, and I felt compelled to make the trek to Milwaukee for their show last night. But from now on I only have eyes for the fest, and plan to make up for lost time with three tonight: Football Under Cover at the Orpheum, The Good Solider at the Bartell, and then back to the Orpheum for JCVD. (Van Damage at midnight? Yee-ha!) Look for updates throughout the night.
