All about art, architecture, storytelling, owner-ship, sharing and love: Jill Magid's one-of-a-kind THE PROPOSAL opens

Are you aware of the work of the late Mexican architect, Luis Barragán? I was not until I saw the new documentary, THE PROPOSAL, in which what we view of Barragán's architecture reminded me quite a bit of the paintings of Giorgio de Chirico: full of beauty, simplicity and solitude. The film was conceived and directed by visual artist and writer Jill Magid, pictured below. Since this is the artist's first film, I am linking her name to her Wikipedia page rather than to the IMDB. For a first film, however, this is one whoppingly good and original piece of work.

From what we learn and see in this documentary, there is a limited amount of Barragán's work (the architect is shown below) available to be appreciated by the public, thanks to ownership of his archives and "brand" by a corporation located in Switzerland. Ms Magid wants to visit that archive and explore what's there, but the corporation -- via a woman named Federica, who is in charge of the archives -- says no. Ms Magid is a persistent little thing, however, and this one-of-a-kind, funny, provocative, unsettling documentary tells us the story of what happens after this request is refused. And -- oh, boy-- Magid is a very good storyteller.

Storytelling, in fact, is part of what this doc is all about. In it, we meet the artist, of course, along with quite a few members of the Barragán family (one of whom is now in memoriam, as we learn via the end credits) and see that they, as well as the Mexican government, want the archives returned to Mexico. So we travel from the USA to Mexico to Switzerland and back, as Magid attempts to help this process along. To talk a lot about content here would simply give away too many spoilers, and the movie is really so much fun that we oughtn't do that.

We do learn that Magid has her "artistic" quirks -- a mystical side, that includes includes leaving a plate of Barragán's favorite cookies by the bedside in the room he used to sleep. If that provokes, an "Oh, please" response, just remember that all artists (human beings, after all) have their quirks -- Picasso on down (or up, depending on your taste). Artists are crazy, right? And Magid often proves crazy like a fox. How she has organized her documentary, so that viewers learn just what we need to know, and in the way and time we need to know it, proves exemplary storytelling.

Along the way the architect's ashes (well, some of them, anyway) are turned into something quite wild and wonderful, and what happens to what-they-become is paramount here. We follow along as Jill chases the elusive Federica, and all this is like a marvelous mystery somewhere between Hitchcock and Nancy Drew. And by movie's end, its title takes on enough delight and irony to have you leaving the theatre walking on air.

That titular proposal is quite something. We learn part of it, but Magid wisely leaves all of it until the finale -- which could hardly be more mouth-agape perfect if some storied, award-winning filmmaker had done this work. By the end of The Proposal, you will have confronted art and ownership, morality, the meaning of provenance and control, seen and heard greed and hypocrisy in action, witnessed an art installation that you suddenly become part of, and been treated to some unusual ideas about love of art (and artists), plus so much more. And you'll have viewed a documentary that TrustMovies thinks is one for the ages. It's that special.

Distributed via Oscilloscope Films and running 86 minutes,  the doc opens theatrically on Friday, May 24, in New York City at the IFC Center, and the following Friday, May 31, in the Los Angeles area at the Monica Film Center. As of now, it will also hit a few other cities and theaters; click here to view currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters.

MINE opens theatrical run: Hurricane Katrina's animal survivors have their day

Geralyn Pezanoski's fine new documentary MINE is all about what happened to the household pets -- mostly dogs -- during, after and even long after Hurricane Katrina. While the during and after sections are fairly expected, though Ms Pezanoski's mind, heart and camera, still manage to catch the odd and affecting moment, it's the "long after" section -- the film's lengthiest -- during which Mine really rivets.

Why did the Katrina evacuees leave their pets? was a much-asked question, post-hurricane. They had to; they were given no choice. Rescue workers told evacuees that they could not take their pets; nor would evacuation centers allows animals on premises. To another question as to why so many more dogs than cats were rescued, one succinct young rescuer explains, "Cats don't bark." Ms Pezanoski's film (the director is shown at left) will appeal more to animal people than to the non-so.  One reviewer has already pitted Katrina's total of dead animals against dead humans to find the film wanting. You can play that game, of course, but this is an attitude that simply (and rather obtusely) misses the point: The movie is meant to be about the part that pets played in this disaster and how important they proved to their owners. (In any case, Ms Pezanoski addresses the human vs animal question early on and then moves forward to focus on her real concerns.)

Mine deals very well with the nitty-gritty of post-disaster animal rescue -- not just the "saving" of the beast, but what to do next: vaccinations, vet check-ups for heartworm and the like. Just as the rescuers felt they were making some progress, Hurricane Rita appeared and undid a lot of what had been accomplished.  The real problem, once an animal has been rescued, is finding the pet's original owner, and when that proves not possible, adopting it out.  It's here that the film begins to fascinate.

What happens when, after pet adoptions have occurred, origi-
nal owners show up and want their ani-
mals back?  (Now you see how appropriate is the film's one-word title.)  Pezanoski follows closely five different missing pets, along with their origi-
nal and new owners, watching carefully how the scenarios play out.  Each, differ-
ent and surprising, will probably force you into considering how you might feel and act, had some disaster separated you from your pet.  One thing I have learned over the years, as a owner of both dogs and cats, is that animals are loyal to whomever takes care of them.  If necessity forced a pet of mine to be relocated to a new owner, and the pet and its new owners had bonded, I believe I would be happy to let it go -- and then adopt a new pet from a shelter.

That, however, is not the case with the pet owners we see here. Desperate to have their animals back, they try everything -- and then try it again.  Class and race enter the picture, too, as does the idea of an animal as a piece of private property. Listen to the scary phone tirade by one man against the Katrina victims who "abandoned" their animals.  And yet, in some cases, what he says was true: the pit bulls, badly scarred, but now saved from a short life of constant dog-fighting. 

Each of the five cases we follow must be taken on its own basis, and I suspect you'll have mixed feelings about what happens and why.  If you're a pet owner, you'll watch with growing interest; if you're not, there's still plenty here to make you sit up and consider.

Mine -- released by Film Movement, opens Friday, January 15 in New York City at the Cinema Village.  Further playdates -- theaters and cities -- can be found here (click and scroll down). Note: the film opens in New Orleans on January 22, with the director present for a Q&A.  Now, that should be interesting!