WILD CANARIES: Lawrence Michael Levine's new-fangled comedy/mystery throwback

Imagine Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys meeting as adults in modern-day Brooklyn and encountering murders and a lot of lesbiansim, and you might just come up with an idea of what you will get from the new independent movie WILD CANARIES.

Better yet, think of the 1950s television series, Mr. and Mrs. North, with Pam and Jerry played by the modern-day couple Lawrence Michael Levine and Sophia Takal, and you'll have an even stronger sense of this odd little concoction.

The press info for the film calls it a "freshly comic take on classic film noir" -- which is yet another way to approach the movie. As a kid TrustMovies couldn't get enough of the Mr. & Mrs. North series. Watching some of these half-hour programs again recently on video, he can understand why he loved them so back then, while realizing that, no, they're not all that entertaining for the adult mind. Something of the same effect transpires in the course of this new film, written and directed by Mr. Levine (shown at right).

Levine's movie begins promisingly enough, with some fine banter between its in-love protagonists, Barri and Noah (Ms Takal and Levine, above) involving everything from jobs and money to friends, landlords, employers and past loves -- several of whom we soon meet.

These folk include the likes of roommate Jean (Alia Shawkat, above), a young woman who has more than a passing interest in Barri, and Eleanor (the gorgeous Annie Parisse, below) ex-lover and current employer of Noah, who is herself now exploring a lesbian relationship of her own.

Then there are the couple's neighbors who include the aged Sylvia (Marylouise Burke) and her visiting son (Kevin Corrigan, shown in the penultimate photo), and the building's relationship-troubled landlord, Damien (Jason Ritter, below).

There are plenty more familiar names and faces for those of you who frequent American independent cinema, including even the likes of Larry Fessenden (playing poker in a non-speaking role). In fact, as it unfurls and because the plot is not a little far-fetched and the final explanation of which even more so (though Miss Parisse does a bang-up job of explication), the movie seems to almost be a kind of "inside" joke played upon us by the bougie-aspiring Brooklyn filmmaking set.

The excellent, if highly naturalistic performances here -- especially from Corrigan, Ritter, Lindsay Burdge and Eleanore Hendricks -- sometimes interfere with the movie's aspirations to the screwball comedy/mystery genre, while the performances of Takal, Levine, Shawkat and Parisse all handle the plot machinations with a lighter, more graceful touch. While some this can be attributed to the characters these performers play, at times it seems that half the cast is appearing in a different film.

One of those movies that you sometimes feel may have been more fun to make than to view, and despite its straight-ahead intent to charm and entertain above all, Wild Canaries raises some interesting questions that its filmmaker might have included here in an unconscious rather than conscious manner. Why are all five of the most prominent women in the film either involved in or toying with a lesbian relationship, while, among the men, there's not a trace of homosexuality to be seen. Are Brooklyn gals more open to exploring their sexuality to its fullest, while the guys are, as usual, completely closed off dunderheads? Or is this the too-often experienced male view of women as all possibly femme fatales, to which lesbian tendencies simply add? Interesting to consider. It makes one wonder what a female writer/director would have done with this story?

In any case, Wild Canaries -- from IFC/Sundance Selects and running just a little too long at 96 minutes -- is a well-acted and not un-entertaining bauble that I wish had been even more so. It opens this Wednesday, February 25, here in New York City at the IFC Center. On Friday, March 6, it hits Los Angeles (at the Arena Cinema), Seattle (at the NW Film Forum), and Miami (at the Cosford Cinema. Click here to check in as later playdates are posted.

Solvan ‘Slick’ Naim's FULL CIRCLE: Urban filmmaker's vanity debut hits film fests

Vanity, as in "a vanity produc-tion," doesn't have to mean low quality or lack of talent. This is something to keep in mind when you come upon a movie like FULL CIRCLE, which can only be called a vanity production, since the star also wrote, co-directed, co-produced and co-executive-produced the film, supervised the music  and also had a hand in the editing. Among other endeavors. The multi-hyphenate in this case is a fellow named Naim -- Solvan Naim, aka "Slick the Misfit." According to the press information, Mr. Naim, shown below, is a 23-year-old Algerian-American rapper and music video director from the Bushwick area of Brooklyn.

The guy has talent. This is apparent from the first few frames, as he pulls us in with the question, "Where's the fucking money?!" screamed over and over to a young man beaten bloody, as a couple of other young men watch from across the room, tied up and so unable to help the poor fellow. Then our bloody boy is shot at point blank range -- and then saved in an escape that is utterly unbelievable by any standards -- unless you've seen very few movies in your day or have never dealt with hardened criminals. This opening section is stylish, too, but in a been-there-many-times-before manner.

Not only are our hardened criminals as dumb as they come, so is just about everyone else in the film -- from our pizza-delivering heroes and their friend to the nattily-attired criminal kingpin -- played by Rob Morgan (above center, surrounded by his henchmen), who gives the most sustained, intelligent and funny performance in the film).

One of the questions that quickly presents itself is whether or not the filmmaker means all this to be a comedy, because (or maybe despite itself), it mostly is. But Mr. Naim (in character, above right) has as yet barely a trace of the skill needed to combine murder and mayhem with truly clever comedy. Instead he relies on the coarsest of tired gimmicks like our pizza-delivery guy coming on to a pretty girl who turn out to be -- oh! -- a lesbian. Matter of fact, Naim is almost shockingly anti-woman of any kind (except the sweet little girl who plays our hero's sister and is clearly too young to be bad). Otherwise all his women are ultra-nasty or betraying gold-diggers whom our boy treats as such. Well, gosh, that's womenfolk for you.

These would include the wife of a old friend who insists on certain toilet etiquette (portrayed as the harpy of all time), and a new girl (Celestine Rae, above) our hero meets who so clearly outclasses him in every way that of course she must be treated like shit. This kind of ghetto garbage does no one -- men or women -- much good. There's a question of whether or not Naim knows this and is just trying to kiss up to the male audience he hopes will embrace his film -- or doesn't know it and clearly still has a lot to learn about the other half of humanity.

As a filmmaker, Naim's talent is on view in his ability to creates lots of violence and action (above and below) then cutting away just before the blood and gore hit. Is this due to a limited budget? Rating worries? Taste? Budget, most likely.

Where Naim is most successful, oddly enough, is in his creation of characters and scenes that are clearly peripheral but lots of fun. Rating the new couch is one such (even if the action and remainder of the scene is ridiculous from any standpoint). Characters like Hippy (a fun Sam Eliad) and that Persian/French arms dealer (a terrific job by newcomer Alex Piovezan, below) go far toward making the movie watchable. As does its actual ending, combining music with some tasty documentary shots of the Bushwick area.

The main story and action is mostly second-hand stuff. And yet it's clear that Naim has some talent. How he grows and where he goes with that talent will tell the tale. Meanwhile Full Circle, running 86 minutes and first seen at the Palm Beach International Film Festival this past April, made its debut at the NYC International Film Festival last Friday and Sunday and will be seen again in New York City during the Manhattan Film Festival at the Quad Cinema on June 27.

A little too much of a good thing: Greta Gerwig in Noah Baumbach's FRANCES HA

As are so many of us independent-film (including mumblecore) movie-watchers, TrustMovies has been a big Greta Gerwig fan, almost from the time he first saw her work seven years ago in LOL and Hannah Takes the Stairs. Since then, it's been nothing but up, with the high point being, in his estimation, Alison Bagnall's The Dish and the Spoon (2011), in which Ms Gerwig does just about everything: makes us laugh, cry, think, feel, the works -- in a story that succeeds on all levels, surprising us, even as it moves and entertains. Do view this one, if you haven't already. (Ms Gerwig also graced Whit Stillman's latest delight, Damsels in Distress, which you undoubtedly did see.)

In 2010 Gerwig worked with writer/director Noah Baumbach, shown at left, in his most commercial movie yet, Greenberg. The two are now a couple and Baumbach is back, directing her again in his latest film, FRANCES HA, on which Gerwig, shown below, also has co-screenplay credit.

His leading lady possesses, as ever, her own distinct personality, which she has proven able to employ in the service of various directors and roles, while maintaining that special Gerwigian spark and style. There are times, in fact, when she may remind you of a less adorable and mainstream but rather more intelligent and independent Goldie Hawn. Consistently quirky, she always manages to keep that quirk within the bounds of reality.

Initially, the new Baumbach/Gerwig endeavor looks a marriage made in heaven. The actress gets to use her fabled moves (half clunky, half charming) and her stop-start vocal pattern at the behest of some bizarre dialog that maybe only she could make work (she does).

Her character, Frances, is a young woman approaching middle age with not much to show for it. She's an almost dancer/almost choreographer, with an almost-best female friend and a bunch of male almost-relationships that go nowhere. The woman doesn't even have her own permanent place to live. And yet she perseveres with a kind of attitude that you might, on a very good day, call hopeful.

As it bubbles and bumbles along, the movie begins to seem like a fairy tale about either a completely deluded young woman with almost no social skills or an equally deluded director gone bonkers over his leading lady. For a time all this works nicely, with the occasional terrific line that makes you grin and chuckle ("You smoke inside?!") and events that continually turn darker and give Gerwig the chance to hunker down and rise up.

The movie will delight Brooklynites (it's so place-specific); it's filmed in that new mode-of-choice, black-and-white; and it gives a couple of other actresses -- Mickey Sumner (above, left) and Grace Gummer (below, right) -- the chance to shine.

When our heroine, with no money to pay for anything, uses a new credit card to take a weekend trip to Paris by herself, with no prior planning, the result is staggeringly stupid. While Baumbach cap-tures the utter loneliness of being in a foreign country all by one-self, he also hammers the biggest nail of all in Frances Ha's coffin.

Eventually, all this becomes too much of a good thing, for Gerwig's pluckiness is no match for Baumbach's punishment. When your main character appears headed irreversibly down the pathway to institutionalization, it's time to reassess. Spoiler ahead: The filmmakers (I'm including Gerwig here, as she co-wrote) do this by plastering on one of the easiest but least believable (given all that's come before) happy endings in movie history. Yes, we all want to see our heroines succeed -- but come on!

There is, however, one final, very dry and delightful visual joke regarding the movie's title that any urban apartment dweller will understand and appreciate. Frances Ha -- from IFC Films and running 86 minutes -- opens today, Friday, May 17, in Manhattan at the IFC Center and Lincoln Plaza Cinema and in Los Angeles at The Landmark, with, I expect, a limited nationwide rollout to follow.

Party time in TURTLE HILL, BROOKLYN: Slice-of-life dramedy from Ryan Gielen

The last time TrustMovies covered a film by Ryan Gielen -- The Graduates -- the marketing process proved more interesting than the movie itself. I'm happy to report that Gielen's latest effort to get a theatrical release, TURTLE HILL, BROOKLYN, is very much worth seeing for the film at the center of things. Gielen both wrote and directed the earlier movie; here, I suspect, he is acting more as a journeyman filmmaker, working for the film's writers/
producers/stars, Brian W. Seibert and Ricardo Valdez.

Mr. Gielen's skill (the filmmaker is shown at left) still comes through aplenty, as he continuously shoots the characters close to the vest and captures moment after moment that seem to be real, odd, funny and sometimes a little embarrassing. (The very good editing is by Morgan Neville, with near-documen-tary-like cinematography by Andrew Rivara.)

Gielen is in a very different milieu here from what he was in his earlier film (and from the sound of things, also from his recently completed movie, Drinking Games), but he immerses himself and us smack in the middle of it: no apologies necessary, so better keep up with it all or die trying. The result is a distinctive slice-of-life comedy/drama that takes us from the morning of a very special 30th birthday party through that party, with the introduction of family and friends, right on into the following morning -- during which issues are raised (but not necessarily settled) that plague so many budding and even long-term relationships.

Mr. Seibert (shown above, who also played a role in The Graduates) and Señor Valdez (below) play a couple whose relationship initially seems pretty wonderful until, little by little, the cracks in the facade appear, mostly due to the fact that both men have been not quite truthful enough with each other.

The screenplay these two have concocted is written with naturalness and reality in mind, but it is also pretty rich in important themes (from the place of Hispanic immigrants in New York City's boroughs to the importance of fidelity in relationships) and interesting details (how do all those Hispanic workers we see in restaurants around the city feel about their job and their bosses).

The ensemble (pictured above and below) gathered together for the film is an interesting bunch, as well -- nicely varied in age, sex and sexual preference, with each actor given the chance to create a believable character. It's unusual, in this large a cast, to allow everyone to register so strongly as individuals, but the combination of script, actors and director has made it possible.

Whether via plan or simply a limited budget, the movie manages to circumvent melodrama pretty well. (The one bit of action/violence is not even shown but only spoken of, post-event.)  While we enjoy the large cast of characters, it's our two "hosts" whose plight involves us most.

The movie thankfully does not tie up all the loose ends, particularly that of where this relationship is headed. But as early morning arrives and bedtime beckons, my companion offered his own take on our couple of the moment: "I think they're gonna make it." It's not in the bag, of course. But we can hope.

Turtle Bay, Brooklyn, from Believe Limited and Will Pork Productions and running just 80 minutes, opens this coming Friday, May 3, in New York City at the Quad Cinema. Elsewhere? I'm not sure, but a DVD and VOD are probably in the cards soon.

Rick Alverson’s hip drip,THE COMEDY, opens for a week's run at BAMcinématek

Self-hate as entertainment? Interesting concept, problematic execution. The rich sure as hell are different from you and me, as Rick Alverson proves in his oh-so-ironically-titled new movie, THE COMEDY. If our non-hero, Swanson (is he part of that old "chicken" dynasty?), played by Tim Heidecker, were not an heir to what appears to be quite a fortune, he couldn't possibly live the kind of life we see here. At least this movie -- unlike so many that offer up weird characters about whom we spend most of our time wondering how in hell they support themselves -- gives us a guy who, as unappealing as he is, seems remotely real.

I say remotely because of one enormous problem that Alverson's movie encounters (the director is shown at right) but doesn't even try to surmount: the lack of consequences to the actions -- every single one of them if I am not mistaken -- taken by his Mr. Swanson, who spends nearly the entire film acting the hipster swine that he evidently wants to be. Yet never has hip seemed closer to drip. The Comedy begins with a scene of drunk, overweight and rather sleazy-looking men having "fun." Further written description will simply beggar belief: You need to see this one to believe it. Turns out this is a kind of "men's group," probably organized and funded by Swanson (unless all these guys are heirs of some sort) whose purpose is to make fun of existing culture -- from the workplace to religion, sex, famly, love, and rock-n'-roll (the music here seems as dank & joyless as the fellows we must watch).

As Swanson's provocations toward work, religion, family and the rest push that envelope further and further, we wait for the reprisal that surely, in any real world, must come -- those consequences mentioned earlier. So nasty, ugly and stupid are this man's words and deeds (much more of the former) that surely someone will soon flatten him with a punch to face and then to the gut. Or call the police. Or pull out the gun (that more and more Americans seem unable to live without) and fire away. Yet those consequences never arrive, for Mr Alverson consistently cuts away from the action prior to their arrival, and so the movie loses much of its credibility, despite some excellent work from Mr. Heidecker in the central role.

We learn almost nothing about any character except Swanson (and come to think of it, we learn damn little about him, only of his wealth and his bad behavior) -- everyone else is interchangeable -- except one young woman, a waitress in a restaurant where Swanson has obtained a job (as a dishwasher, of course: Oh, the irony!). In the film's best scene -- because, finally, our guy gets as good as he gives, and for a few moments the playing field seems leveled -- our dishwasher and waitress have a verbal go-round that results in a "date."  On that date something happens that, again, demands consequences -- or at least some kind of continuation so that we may see what happens and how Swanson handles this. Sorry. No can do.

This constant refusal to risk -- not closure, but simply taking a scene to its demanded end -- robs the character, the movie, us viewers and, yes, Mr. Alverson, of the opportunity to learn and grow a little. When, at last (at the finale, of course) that chance for growth comes -- via a cute little child. Please! -- the stab at redemption (more like re-dumb-tion) can't help but smack of sentimentality. If Swanson had to watch this scene, rather than play it, he'd have some nasty stuff to say, before laughing himself sick.

If men behaving badly is your thing, goodness knows the movie takes this to new heights (or depths). The film is a constant put-on, perfect for intellectual S&M. But if you are searching for something different (as we sophisticated movie-goers always are), by all means take a look, and make of it what you will.

**********

After seeing the film and composing this review, I then read the writer/director's "statement" about his movie. I think I understand what Alverson is saying and trying to achieve, and I applaud his motives and his goal, even if I don't believe that he has come very near it. In that Director's Statement, he says, "...my interest was to link the audience and the protagonist through their mutual desire for emotional animation and sensitization. For me the audience, the viewer, and Swanson are in the same predicament, are driven by the same conflicting set of desires. I am ultimately interested in the denial of those hopes, for the resolve of his animation (emotional or physical) or the satisfaction and relief of his salvation. I think that middle ground {the italics are TrustMovies'} is the state in which we most often live and one from which the audience and Swanson both desire to flee, one that is denied its due in entertainment and even the grand drama of many of the arts."

OK: fair enough. Alverson has taken us from that middle ground. But unfortunately he had not given us a believable reality to replace it. Actions like those shown here have consequences, I suggest -- both in the middle ground and elsewhere.

In any case, The Comedy begins its week-long run here in the NYC environs at BAMcinématek this Friday, November 16. In the Los Angeles area, it is current playing at CineFamily and will move this Friday, 11/16, to the Downtown Independent theater.  Other dates/cities in and during which the film will be offered include November 23 (San Francisco and Chicago); November 27 (Duluth); November 29 (Albuquerque); November 30 (Denver, Austin, Phoenix and Columbus; December 7 (Seattle, Tuscon and Boston); December 9 (Bloomington -- and back to Williamsburg, Brooklyn!) For us couch potatoes, the movie made its VOD debut this past October 24 and will continue there for awhile, I should imagine.

Luis Landivar's RED HOOK BLACK: It's a love/hate letter to the B'klyn neighborhood

RED HOOD BLACK, I'm afraid, does not belong in a theater. It belongs on a shelf in its filmmaker's room, to be shared, if requested, with friends and family. If this film had opened two weeks earlier, around the Thanksgiving holiday, I'd have chosen it for Turkey-of-the-month, if not the entire year. (But, no: That crown is still held by The Abduction of Zack Butterfield, which opened last May, and proved so ridiculous that some of us are still giggling.) Red Hook Black does not come close to the entertaining heights of unintentional "camp" as did the Butterfield business. It's just, sadly, not very good on any level.

Adapted and directed by Luis Landivar (shown at left) from a play of the same name by José Landivar (a relation, no doubt, but I could not find the actual connection), the movie tells the present-day story of two old friends from the neighborhood, Marco (Kyle Fields, below left) and Damian and their currently difficult times. Why these two would remain friends into adulthood is hard to fathom, as Marco is one singularly annoying, unpleasant clod, married to a sick wife (she's got Multiple Sclerosis) and soon leching after his nubile niece, who is more than happy to oblige. (According to the film's web site, inspiration here came, but did not rub off, partly from Arthur Miller's play A View from the Bridge.)

For his part, Damian (played by James Jackson, shown below, left) is saddled with a no-account younger brother who deals drugs and has zero sense of responsibility. Damian is also suffering post-traumatic stress from a fairly recent divorce.

Having neither read nor seen the play from which the film was adapted, I can't remark on its quality. But the movie, from the first, offers some terrible, clunky dialog about sparkling eyes and a sparkling blouse (!) with reams of exposition and repetition. "I'm sick, Marco. I'm sick!" And soon after, "I can't take it, Marco. I can't take it!" When it's not repeating, the dialog alternates cliché with near-non-sequitur. Notes the toast at the finale ("What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." Gee, we've never heard that one before!) or wifey asking hubby "Were you building a spaceship?" when he finally appears after a long absence. Huh?

Further, all this is spoken by performers who are not professional enough to know how not to call attention to the bad dialog. Instead they go for it, both barrels blasting. The pacing is usually "off," as well: too fast, too slow or just too many small but unnecessary pauses so that nothing quite seems natural. (The wife, above, is played by Victoria Negri, while the role of the niece is taken by Danielle Lozeau, below.)

TrustMovies does not enjoy giving a notice like this one. But Red Hook Black -- so obvious is so many ways that it soon becomes boring -- should not be let off the hook. It is not an easy film to sit through, despite its relatively short running time of 87 minutes. Mr. Landivar not only adapted and directed the film but co-produced it and wrote the lyrics to many of the songs on the soundtrack (the music, listenable if not very original, is probably the best part of the experience).

According to the IMDB, Landivar has also made another, earlier film about Bushwick, Brooklyn, so this one on Red Hook may lead to more films set in the borough's various communities. If so, let's hope that his filmmaking skills improve with each new location. For now, Red Hook Black -- the title of which refers to the days in which oil was found under this particular neighborhood -- will open for a week's run in New York City at the Quad Cinema this coming Friday, December 9.