Music hath charms... in Sam Bathrick's new prison documentary, 16 BARS

We've seen theatre in prison previously -- including Shakespeare behind bars, and once even via the Taviani brothers -- as an aid to the rehabilitation process, so why the hell not try rehab with music? That is what the musician Todd Thomas (better known as the rapper "Speech" from the band Arrested Development) tries to do in the new music-in-prison documentary 16 BARS. "Speech," along with some of the prisoners with whom he works while encouraging and coaching them, manages this surprisingly well -- as do the inmates themselves. Musically, at least. The men have some major problems in some other areas of their rehabilitation.

As directed by Sam Bathrick, shown at left, one of the strengths of this slow-building but finally quite effective doc, is the manner in which it refuses to shy away from the very real and continuing problems the prisoners face as they try their best to work toward rehabilitation.

In many, if not most, cases these guys have a childhood and/or young adulthood of bad training/parenting to overcome in order to even begin any real kind of rehab.

Bathrick and "Speech" concentrate on four inmates in Richmond, Virginia -- three black would-be rappers and one white somewhat-country-sounding prisoner, all of whose stories we slowly learn.

The four prisoners -- Anthony (above), De'vonte, Garland and Teddy (below) -- are all highly problemed (Devonte perhaps has the least problems of the four) but their stories and personalities pull us in and have us rooting for each of them, even as we slowly come to realize the major difficulties facing these men.

Their personal stories vie with the music portions of the documentary for our attention in a manner that, initially at least, seems a bit clunky. By the finale, however, the two have come together in a way that works well both rationally and emotionally.

The song we hear over the final scene, as title cards tell us what has happened to each of these men, provides a kind of uplift to the downbeat news on screen that may make you better understand and appreciate why music outlives all of us in the end. (One of songs by the hugely tattooed Garland, shown above, also reflects this quite well.)

The movie takes its time to percolate and jell -- to badly mix a coffee and pudding metaphor -- but hold on through a few slow scenes and some repetition and you will be duly rewarded. (Shown above, right, is "Speech" Thomas at work with Anthony.)

From Lightyear Entertainment and running 95 minutes, 16 Bars opens theatrically this Friday, November 8, in New York City (at the Village East Cinema) and then on November 15 in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Monica Film Center.

The Latasters' MISS KIET'S CHILDREN: kids on film in a fine and helpful Netherlands school

The earlier documentary of which the new one, MISS KIET'S CHILDREN, should most remind you is probably that fine French kids-in-school doc, To Be and To Have, which let us spend some time in a one-room, mixed-grade schoolhouse in the French countryside.

Among the differences between that doc and this new one are the country we're in (The Netherlands), the larger size of the school, and the fact that most of the kids here are recent immigrants (several from Syria) -- which addresses a subject that has grown hugely in importance throughout the European Union over the fifteen years since the release of that earlier film.

The product of filmmakers Petra Lataster-Csisch and Peter Lataster (shown above, left and right, respectively), the film offers no narration -- written or voice-over -- nor any talking-head interviews, but is simply a you-are-there, let's-watch-these-kids-and-the-interaction-with-their-teacher approach. It works. The children, for the most part, seem either unaware of the camera or so used to it that it makes little difference to them. Only one of these -- a very funny young fellow named Jorj (shown below) -- occasionally seems to be playing to the camera. And, damned if he isn't very good at it!

That titular teacher, Miss Kiet (above and below), seems a font of inspiration and warmth, yet stern enough when more control is necessary. Early on in the film she makes the point that the differences between us all is something beautiful, and this idea is quietly carried on throughout, as we watch the kids learn mathematics, movement, spelling and even how to tie a shoelace.

More than merely teaching reading, writing and arithmetic, however, what Miss Kiet excels at most, it seems, is problem-solving. She is near constantly helping these kids learn how to solve their problems without resorting to anything that approaches fighting or violence. Later she will explain to them: "For every problem, there is a solution!" And, by god, she's there to demonstrate this fact.

From near the opening moment, when a little girl arrives at school having fallen down outside into what must have been a mud puddle and now has on wet and dirty pants, to the Christmas pageant, complete with song and dance, which the kids rehearse and then put on near the film's conclusion, various problems arise and are handled by Kiet and eventually by the children with understanding and a slowly acquired skill.

The movie deals mostly with those children from Syria, though one young boy (above) hails from Macedonia. As we watch the little girl Liane (or Leeann, as it is sometimes spelled here) on the playground, and see her flinch again and again and look up into the sky when any loud noise is heard, we can't help but wonder if she is remembering the bombs and violence of her native land. Finally the teacher talks with Jorj about why he has trouble sleeping, and, sure enough, this started back in Syria. "There is no 'bang bang' here, is there?" he is asked. No, but his sleep remains troubled.

Miss Kiet's Children will appeal most, I suspect, to teachers and/or anyone who harbors the instinct for teaching, and then to those who love watching the faces of children for all the unbridled emotions these can show. The faces here are marvels indeed, and the filmmakers have captured them in all their troubled glory. Finally though, the documentary seems to TrustMovies not quite as accomplished a To Be and To Have. The fact that it sticks mostly with only four or five of these kids made me wish I had seen more of the rest of the class and how the others interacted with these five. You can't have it all, of course, not even within a two-hour framework of this film's two-hour running time.

On the same bill with the full-length documentary is a seven-minute animated short entitled WHEN I HEAR THE BIRDS SING by Trine Vallevik Håbjørg, with animation by Øyvind Tangseth and Ms Håbjørg. Using simple animation that suddenly turns gorgeous, colorful and inspired, the soundtrack offers up snippets of interviews with children of the Côte d’Ivoire in West Africa who were left homeless and/or nearly killed during the violence that followed the 2010 election. They talk of their ambitions, as well as of their travails. In its simplicity, style and beauty, the film is a small but sublime accomplishment.

From Icarus Films and in Dutch with English subtitles, Miss Kiet's Children opens tomorrow, Wednesday, December 13, at Film Forum in New York City for its U.S. theatrical premiere, and then on Friday, December 15, at Laemmle's Music Hall 3 in Los Angeles. 

Frederick Wiseman's documentary IN JACKSON HEIGHTS opens at New York City's Film Forum

My cousin Paula Carroll, a relatively wise-in-the-ways-of-the-world woman, used to say (and undoubtedly still does) that if you know a particular subject well and then see a movie about it, you'll find that movie wanting. TrustMovies has more often than not discovered for himself that this is true. Depth, specificity and honesty are not necessarily synonymous with mainstream entertainment. Having lived in Jackson Heights for 22 years and only recently relocated to southern Florida, I know my ex-community relatively well and so was looking forward to the Frederick Wiseman (the filmmaker is shown above) documentary, IN JACKSON HEIGHTS, about as much as I've awaited the coming of any movie I can recall. I've been impressed with other of this documentarian's works -- from Titicut Follies (1967) and High School (1968) onwards to Crazy Horse (2011) -- and now, here he is tackling my own stomping ground!

Yeah, right. I should have lessened my expectations and recalled what cousin Paula said. Also, I should have noticed that the title of this film is not Jackson Heights (as though it were going to be any kind of definitive picture or history) but In Jackson Heights, as instead, "This is what's happening in the neighborhood right now." As such, Wiseman's movie is a not uninteresting look at a place that, like the borough of Queens of which it is a part, offers as ployglot a community as you're likely to find anywhere in the world (167 languages are said to be spoken here!).

Inclusive is also a term you can use about this place which is and has been for some time open and relatively welcoming of the GLBT community (some of its seniors are shown above), of new immigrants (legal and otherwise), and of the various cultures these immigrant represent (the number and variety of ethnic restaurants alone are legion). All this is catnip to Wiseman's eye and camera, and so we get a cursory look at food and restaurants and culture and mariachi bands (below).

What really interests the filmmaker, however, are certain groups -- from those in a senior center, to the GLBT population, to young social activists trying to help a beleaguered Hispanic business community survive an attack by wealthy real estate investors, to a support group for recent U.S. immigrants, a member of which (below) tells the tale of her daughter's very frightening and near-death experience getting into the country.

Also covered in some depth and detail is the office of Danny Dromm, New York City Council member for the 25th district, which includes Jackson Heights. We watch and listen as his staff handles various phone calls, and later watch and listen again as Dromm and staff tackle a thorny education question. (The movie certainly works as an endorsement of Councilman Dromm.) The funniest moments probably arrive as the camera and microphone capture a class for new taxi drivers (below) who need to learn about Brooklyn! This is clever, unusual stuff, and their teacher seems like a born New Yorker (that is to say, himself a somewhat Sammy Glick-like immigrant striver).

My spouse stopped watching the film after two hours (it runs a total of three hours and ten minutes). He found it too repetitive and not very eye-opening. I watched that final hour and was glad  I did, even though I, too, did not find myself surprised or educated by much I saw.) I suspect that none of the critics who are currently praising the film to the skies live in Jackson Heights, or they would be aware of all that is going on here. And more. The movie barely cuts into the community, save for these few "group" experiences that we see.

Wiseman is a filmmaker who prefers to show rather than tell (some of his subjects do plenty of that, however). So he does not use narration or go into history.  He simply points his camera -- savvily, it must be said -- and records. What he has captured In Jackson Heights is a community undergoing change, as communities always do. Earlier, Hispanics pushed out an older population of Irish and Italians; now they are being pushed out by gentrification and wealth. There was a time when Jews were not allowed to purchase in the Jackson Heights Historic District -- a beautiful, landmarked area within Jackson Heights that this movie barely shows or mentions -- but you wouldn't learn anything like that from watching this vibrant, colorful but somewhat shallow film. There is a limit to what simply pointing the camera and shooting can do, and when one goes into a community this diverse, there is a price to be paid in the kind of depth achieved.

The movie, from Zipporah Films (Wiseman's own distribution company) opens this coming Wednesday, November 4, in its world theatrical premiere in New York City at Film Forum. In the weeks to come, it will make its way around the country and elsewhere. To see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters, click here and scroll down.

Catching up with Steven Soderbergh's Spalding Gray film, AND EVERYTHING IS GOING FINE

This coming January will mark the tenth year since the death of Spalding Gray. Already? This hardly seems possible. Gray, such a primary force on the New York cultural scene during the final three decades of the twentieth century, was also more than anyone else, I think, responsible for the trend toward the "monologue evening" that is now such a staple of theatre, whether performed by a Daisey, a Birbiglia or so many others. I had been a fan of Mr. Gray for a long while, appreciating both his sense of humor and his keen intelligence, and noting, too, that we were born in the same month in the same year (January 1941) and were both raised in households where that bizarre religion of Christian Science was in full swing. And then there was the interest in homosexuality, which I perhaps embraced more fully than he.

Gray's theater monologues usually offered up a good portion of the fellow's history, yet they always left us wanting more. A smart move, of course, because audiences would flock right back to whatever the man did next. The beauty of Steven Soderbergh's film AND EVERYTHING IS GOING FINE is that it captures Gray remar-kably well over a rela-tively long period of time (in only 89 minutes) and ends up giving us more than we've ever seen of this troubled, funny man, along with the family he came from (below), and the family he helped create and then left behind.

Soderbergh selects portions of various of Gray's theater performances, interviews with him by journalists (like Charlie Rose), Gray's own interviews with members of his audiences, talks with his father, archival footage and more -- weaving all this together into a surprisingly full look at the man, his work and how he developed his signature style.

Gray understood (he even remarked on this) that he was probably "fictionalizing," but that's what we all do when remembering our past. (Hearing him talk about his work in pornographic movies provides one of the funnier sections, fictionalized or not.) As Gray grows more successful, his life seems to be coming together nicely. He starts a family, which becomes, eventually, an extended family, all the while fighting off the depression that had plagued him, lifelong.

There's a slightly "embarrassed" quality to the man that went hand in hand with, and in fact probably accounted for, his singular success. And yet his take on life as "the glorious accident" seems consistent with his attitude and growth. Soderbergh had worked with Gray previously (King of the Hill and Gray's Anatomy), so he knew the man and the personality to some extent. And Everything Is Going Fine proves a wonderful marriage of a filmmaker to his subject.

The documentary is surely one of, maybe the best film overall that this up-and-down but often very gifted director has made -- about one of the most quietly iconic theater folk to have ever come our way. And Everything Is Going Fine is available now via Netflix streaming--and perhaps elsewhere.

Photos are from the film itself, with the 

exception of that of Mr. Soderbergh (second from top), 

which comes courtesy of Getty Images.

Cindy Kleine's ANDRÉ GREGORY: BEFORE AND AFTER DINNER opens at Film Forum

Cindy Kleine is no Louis Malle. And ANDRÉ GREGORY: BEFORE AND AFTER DINNER is no My Dinner With André, though the reference to that earlier work is not accidental. Ms Kliene is, however, the wife of André Gregory, and as such is in a position to know her subject pretty damn well. She is also the filmmaker who gave us a couple of years back that rather incredible documentary, Phyllis and Harold, about her parents, a couple who, it turns out, she did not know as well as she once thought.

It is difficult to imagine another documentary being as surprising and eye/mind/spirit-opening as Phyllis and Harold -- which you should seek out, if you have not yet seen it. Her André Gregory movie is nowhere as involving or shocking, perhaps because Mr. Gregory is still alive. (Her father was already gone by the time the earlier movie was being made and her mother was not in the best of health or mental state by then, either.) Presumably, Ms Kliene (shown above) wants to keep Mr. Gregory healthy and happy as long as possible, and so I suppose we cannot expect to get too up-close-and-personal with the man. (We do see him briefly full-frontal, if that's consolation.)

TrustMovies has generally found Gregory (on-screen, acting, or in interviews) to be a very smart, literate and funny fellow, and so spending time with him now, in his late 70s, is still a lot of fun, not to mention the chance we have, thanks to some archival footage, to see him in his early years and some of his early work that was captured on film. Much of Gregory's reputation (that's he, above, in the old days) rests on his innovative theatrical work as a director, and we do see a little of that, as well as hearing from some of the actors who worked with him (Gerry Bamman, for one).

And of course we revisit briefly My Dinner With André and Vanya on 42nd Street, the landmark Malle films that were and remain such a treat, and on which Gregory collaborated with his longtime friend and maybe muse Wallace Shawn. (They're most likely mutual muses.) We also see rehearsals taking place for a new Shawn/Gregory collaboration on Ibsen's The Master Builder, which Jonathan Demme is currently filming and which we'll get to see maybe later this year.

After a start, during which Kleine explains/shows how the two met and became friends and lovers, we get somewhat into the life and mind of Mr. Gregory. Upfront in all this would be his feelings about and for his very strange parents, European Jews who neglected to let their offspring know that they were all Jewish. (Somewhat understandable, given its time frame during the Holocaust.) Still, these particular parents were unusual, and Gregory's coming to learn more about the "work" his father was perhaps engaged in during Hitler's rise to power and madness makes for surprising, unsettling stuff.

The sections showing us Gregory's theatrical "technique" became, for me, a little tiresome after awhile. Rehearsals tend to drag for audiences, performances not so much (though part of the Gregory technique appears to be that one is always performing, so this at least keeps the energy level high). The movie finally, perhaps reflecting its subject, is rather disorganized and all over the place. But Gregory's personality helps keep us interested. He can be a grand raconteur, as proven by his tale of his experience "acting" in the would-be blockbuster Demolition Man, along side Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone. For his explanation alone of the small misunderstanding with the twatty little director of the film (barely heard from again, I might add), the movie is worth its price of admission.

In addition to his talent, Gregory (with the help of Ms Kleine) comes off as quite a likable man. Late in the movie he tells that everything we may most fear as our lives proceed does indeed comes to pass: that first day at school, sex, college, employment, cancer. It's all life imitating art. Or vice versa. Yet, for a fellow who managed to get all the way to college without ever having been "touched" (never once hugged by his parents or relatives, let alone romantically kissed or touched by a girl or another boy), he's grown up and done all right. And Ms Kleine lets us see this.

André Gregory: Before and After Dinner -- a Cinema Guild release running 108 minutes -- opens this Wednesday, April 3, for a two-week run at New York City's Film Forum. The exclusive Los Angeles engagement begins Friday, May 3rd at the Laemmle Music Hall 3 in Beverly Hills. To see other currently scheduled playdates, click here.

DocuWeeks hosts Everardo González's dry & dusty Mexican documentary, DROUGHT

DROUGHT -- the original title of which is Cuates de Australia, the communal land in northern Mexico going by that name -- is a quietly stunning, full-length (84-minute) movie that documents the natives of the area, their lives (and livestock) their work, as well as their annual exodus from home when the yearly drought (which seems to be growing worse, no surprise) occurs and there is simply no more water for anything -- drinking, bathing or irrigation.

Filmmaker and cinematographer Everardo González (shown at left) has created the kind of documentary that -- without narration and by virtue of quickly and firmly delivering its audience into this arid landscape via visuals that seem both familiar and strange -- escorts us into a new and unforgettable world. The Mexican film I was most reminded of is Eugenio Polgovsky's The Inheritors, though Polgovsky's is as green and verdant as this one is dry and dusty. Yet both docs place us smack amid an unusual group of people and allow us to live in their shoes for a time (metaphorically, I mean, since many of them are barefoot).

We know very quickly where we are, as gentlemen social workers from the city arrive to take a survey, asking the inhabitants if they have television, radio, not to mention running water. "We don't have any of that," laughs the local lady who is responding to these rather silly questions that, one supposes, must be asked.

Family is all important here. One young man explains how he had wanted to become a doctor, or maybe a veterinarian. He had the grades, even a scholarship and financial help. "But then my father needed me, so I had to go work for him."

We see a mare being serviced for breeding, another horse being gelded, and a cow slaughtered for food. Teens get dancing lessons, a fight break out at what looks like some kind of auction, but everything is held together by what appears to be a strong sense of community. And the landscapes are amazing.

This being Mexico, religion is important, and here seems more backward than ever. Regarding the coming drought, notes one woman, "God sends the water, and he has a reason not to." Uh... OK. As the drought grows more fierce, with no rainfall in sight, the animals are hit first. The image of a colt -- wobbling and increasingly unable to walk, then collapsing and dying of thirst -- is indelible. Vultures circle above and coyotes appear below for the remains.

After the houses have been vacated, eventually the rains do come and life returns. The movie ends with the tipping of a hat -- an appropriately dignified, friendly, cowboy response to this very fine documentary.

Drought, which is a major part of this year's -- the 16th annual -- Docuweeks documentary film festival, will have a one-week run in both New York City (screening twice daily at the IFC Center from Friday, August 10 through Thursday, August 16) and in Los Angeles (screening twice daily at Laemmle's NoHo 7 in North Hollywood, from Friday, August 17, through Thursday, August 23). Filmmaker Everardo González will appear in person for Q&A's at both venues.

Julia Haslett's oddball but not uninteresting AN ENCOUNTER WITH SIMONE WEIL

Who was Simone Weil? You, as had I, may have heard of her off and on over the years: a Jewish writer/philosopher who was ascetic/
religious, and... uh... didn't she die in the Holocaust? You'll find out, should you watch the bizarre little documentary AN ENCOUNTER WITH SIMONE WEIL, written, produced, directed and edited by novice filmmaker Julia Haslett. One thing you are sure to learn is how to pronounce Simone's name. TrustMovies has always said Weil, as in Wile. But, no: It's Weil, as in Vay. Being a French name, the l is silent and the ei pronounced as a long a. And the W? Well, Simone was born of Alsatian parents, from the region nearest Germany, and so the W, I guess, is pronounced as a V. (TM is spending so much time on pronunciation because, well, the movie itself proves a bit of a cheat.)

"Encounter" begins with the filmmaker, shown at right, telling us about the suicide of her father and then how she came upon this bit of writing from Ms Weil: Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. This may be Weil at close to her best. (Later we hear nonsense such as Not religion but revolution is the opium of the people. Of course: A good revolution is guaran-teed to put one into a sleepy, drugged up state!)  In any case, Ms Haslett is so impressed with the former statement that she makes it a point to learn all she can about Ms Weil, who died at the age of 34 in 1943. And we tag along with her, learning on the run. Haslett also has a brother, Timothy, shown below, with his own depression problems, whom she worries over -- quite genuinely and with good cause.

The filmmaker, it turns out, is suffering from guilt (and how could any of us not be, who have had close family members kill themselves), much in the manner that Weil herself suffered -- though in Simone' case, it appeared to be for the helpless masses rather than for particular individuals. In addition to severe health problems, this suffering was her cross to bear. And if that sounds a tad religious, so be it. The lady had quite a Jesus complex. Still, as one acolyte tell us, Weil embodied "the union between the most demanding intellect and the heart." Says another: "You can't come away from reading her unscathed." Yet, scathed, Haslett informs us, is what she desires to feel and be.

As the film moves along, you may feel that the filmmaker is growing awfully worshipful of Weil. Just wait. Soon, because she so desperately wants to have a "real" encounter with her heroine -- "Even a fleeting glimpse will help me get closer to her," Haslett tells us -- she is placing photos and writings on the floor and communing with them, perhaps hoping to "channel" Simone or head over into the paranormal realm.... "But I'm getting carried away," she admits at around the halfway point, and we heave a heavy sigh of relief.

When Haslett sticks to Weil's history, the movie is most interesting: Simone's time spent fighting in the Spanish Civil War (She was a pacifist: yet another contradiction), her first mystical experience, her move from politics to religion and her inability to give in fully to the latter (good girl!), why she was called the Red Virgin, her work during World War II, and much more.

As Haslett's brother's condition worsens, so does the filmmaker's own anxiety: Isn't her brother worth more than her Weil work? This is where the movie either falls apart (it did for me) or may come together for you. We don't really learn enough about Haslett's family to make what happens as meaningful as it ought to be. Instead we see a demonstration for the prisoners at Guantanamo (above), which of course mirrors, in its way today, the work that Weil did back then. Haslett even goes so far as to work in a factory, as Weil once did, to experience solidarity with the masses for whom she felt so strongly.

This philosopher said some lovely, true things (What separates us is also our link). But true to her constant contradictions, she also had a death wish. Haslett's movie will undoubtedly set some viewers off to learn more about Weil through her writings, and this is a very good thing. What the movie does most, however, is to reveal how difficult it is to effectively combine your own personal story with that of your biographical subject -- particularly when that subject exerts such a strong pull as does Ms. Weil.

An Encounter With Simone Weil (85 minutes from Line Street Productions) opens this Friday, March 23, at the Quad Cinema in New York City, and perhaps elsewhere soon. Click here to see all currently scheduled screenings -- though most of them listed appear to be in the past rather than the future.

All photos are from the film, except that of Timothy Haslett, 

which comes courtesy of WayneandWax.com