FilmClick

Is Lucrecia Martel worth a $100 cab ride from Long Island to Flushing, Queens? Stuck way out on LI, and having missed the train, I coughed up just that amount to make it to Midtown’s Ziegfeld Theater in time for a screening of her newest feature, The Headless Woman. “It was a slow day, and if it wasn’t for your hundred bucks I’d be hurting,” said the cab driver. He was balding but sported a ponytail and in a raspy, cigarette-infused voice, went on to tell me that he was an aspiring actor and regularly appeared in background roles as a featured extra. He asked what I thought of Martin Scorcese and Howard Stern’s new wife. He was surprised I’d never heard of her. Unfortunately but not surprisingly, he’d never heard of Lucrecia Martel.

The Headless Woman

La Mujer Sin Cabeza is the Spanish language title of this newest feature from this highly regarded young filmmaker, her third. A woman’s near-accident on a dirt road in rural Argentina induces an unexplained kind of amnesia, and suddenly an otherwise average middle-age suburban lifestyle appears strange, fragmented. This beautifully effective plot device allows the audience an examination of mainstream Argentinean society, a place that abounds with subtle racism, classism, sexism, and a sense of entitlement that usually accompanies an upper middle class. Martel identifies a kind of post-materialism, wherein consumers seem to take consumption for granted, only in that there is and will always be material support (i.e. taxicabs, social clubs, and swimsuits) for a privileged way of life. “I wanted to place the camera only from the perspective of a small child,” said Martel after the screening. With this complementary visual style, The Headless Woman works on mulitiple levels, telling not only the story of a woman in society, but of society itself.

I Hear Your Scream

Thanks to my mad dash to the theater, I was able to see another astounding piece, a short by Pablo Lamar called, in the native language of Guaraní, spoken in most of Paraguay and certain parts of rural northern Argentina, Ahendu Nde Sapukai. The English translation is, “I Hear Your Scream.” One 11-minute shot depicts a hillside shack at dusk. The sky is a dull gray while the foreground action is in complete silhouette. A man stands apart from the multitude of townspeople attending what appears to be a funeral, and by the end of this visceral experience a viewer feels almost embarrassed to have intruded upon this man’s moment of privacy.

Afterschool

Rounding out the screening was the first feature by NYU alum and New York favorite Antonio Campos. It was in competition at Cannes this past year, as was a celebrated 2005 short of Campos’ called Buy it Now. Campos is a well-spoken and intelligent young filmmaker, and can certainly talk the talk. The promise of his shorts demanded high attention on the world stage, but Afterschool’s jumble of cultural buzz, risqué thematic material, and mixed media still feels a bit irresponsible if not immature, and the remarkable focus racks on gorgeous anamorphic 35mm is really the best reason to check this one out, should it ever draw theatrical release.

By Michael Prall, FilmClick staff. mprall@filmclick.com

Midtown Manhattan is in the midst of its 46th annual New York Film Festival, splitting time between the extravagant Ziegfeld Theatre, Avery Fisher Hall, and the Walter Reade Theatre on west 65th street. The festival is sponsored by the Film Society of Lincoln Center, a benevolent New York City organization that yearly champions the best in US and international cinema. Not to be confused with the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas, another charming midtown theater where I happened to catch Wayne Wang’s newest film, A Thousand Years of Good Prayers, a smart drama reminiscent of such greats as Bergman’s Wild Strawberries. An old man surveys his life’s failings over a long-distance visit with an estranged daughter. Wang’s return to the indie front is encouraging, and thanks to New York’s wide variety of film venues, he’s enjoying a lengthy run. Back to the super-competitive NYFF, which occurs late in the season, and showcases some of the best of the year’s releases, this year featuring new films by Soderbergh and Aronofsky, Palme D’Or winner The Class by Laurent Cantet, a new Mike Leigh film and other international gems. There are no prizes awarded. It’s an honor merely to be included in the showcase.

Wendy and Lucy

My first ever experience at Ziegfeld was a whirlwind. My ticket found me in row LLL, apparently for “last last last,” but luckily there are no bad seats in that house. Heavyweight Jia Zhang-ke introduced a short film called Cry Me A River, where the realities of a love rectangle are as disjointed as the scene structure. Zhang-ke’s salient brand of docu-style storytelling is a refreshing move away from the politico-capitalist frenzy that lately pours from an emerging China. He is more reminiscent of quiet contemporaries Tsai Ming Liang, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, and fellow screener and friend Kelly Reichardt. Her second feature, Wendy and Lucy was a big hit at this year’s NYFF, playing a late show on a Saturday night to a crowded house. Reichardt’s modest ability to pare down the elements of story making is impressive, and even red-carpet star Michelle Williams transcends her Hollywood stardom to deliver an impressive characterization of poverty and hopelessness in America. I was in tears at the final moment.

Summer Hours

Also in its New York premier was Olivier Assayas’ Summer Hours. This gem, in my eyes a redemption for Assayas, watches a family negotiate the estate of their late and beloved mother, a celebrated joie de vivre art collector. Three siblings, the sister played by Juliette Binoche, muse on the leavings of their ancestors while Assayas makes a subtle yet strong comment on the state of tradition in the world today. Two valuable and sentimental paintings are sold to increase cash flow for one brother, yet a rare and immensely valuable vase is handed off to the family’s matronly housekeeper on her departure. The highlight is the steadicam closing sequence. Absolutely gorgeous.

Stay tuned for other reports on festival films, including Lucrecia Martel’s newest, a shaky if not striking first feature by young Cannes darling Antonio Campos, and hopefully Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Tokyo Sonata.
September 26th to October 12th.
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By Michael Prall, FilmClick staff; mprall@filmclick.com