Fellipe Barbosa's hybrid docu-drama GABRIEL AND THE MOUNTAIN opens in NY and L.A.

Not quite like any movie I've seen previously and yet not so different in content and style as to seem at all "strange," GABRIEL AND THE MOUNTAIN is a kind of memorial to Gabriel Buchmann, a long-time friend of the filmmaker -- Fellipe Barbosa --  as well as an exploration of the last period of Gabriel's too-short life and a possible, though not-particularly-tidy explanation of his untimely death.

To his great credit, Barbosa decided to make his movie as narrative film, rather than a documentary, casting actors both professional and not and then mixing them so well, while using a story format that appears to follow real life closely enough, that a kind of vérité is quickly achieved.

The filmmaker, shown at right, seems clearly "invested" in this movie-- not just financially and artistically but emotionally, too.

And yet, instead of allowing himself to be either overly constrained or, conversely, undisciplined by his closeness to the material, Barbosa has used his understanding of what docu-drama can achieve to produce something nearly sui generis and very much worth experiencing.

His movie is too long -- it could have lost 15 to 20 minutes and been much stronger -- but it is still, despite this, memorable. Once seen, neither it nor its main character, Gabriel, will easily be forgotten.

As played by the remarkable young actor, João Pedro Zappa (shown above), Gabriel is at once full of life, energy, wit, smarts and attitude -- occasionally, so much of the latter that he begins to annoy. Yet he's kind and caring and always bounces back into your (and his girlfriend's) good graces.

Initially we see Gabriel with the various folk he's encountered along the way on his African adventure. He's come there as a kind of educational project to study poverty from the viewpoint of the people who are living through it and who, not coincidentally, seem to have embraced Gabriel fully and lovingly. In documentary style, each of these people tell us a bit about their own encounter with the young man. One of the side attractions of the film is that it makes the countries of African that we visit seem like the kindest and most welcoming places on earth.

Once Gabriel's girlfriend (played equally well by Caroline Abras, above and at bottom) joins him midway along, the movie becomes a kind of love duet that's also full of spice and ginger, politics and economics, and some quarreling, too, in which we view a bit of Gabriel's not-so-nice side -- which makes his character register all the more strongly and fully.

Gabriel is so full of life, in fact, that this gives the movie an odd and moving melancholy, since we have seen from its onset that he is now dead. And yet he lives. Boy, does he live! Along the way we visit the Masai people, see Mount Kilimanjaro, spend some time at the sea and finally return to Mount Mulanje in Malawi, Gabriel's final destination.

As the movie grows longer, it loses some stream because during the final 30-40 minutes we learn little more about Gabriel's character, even though the film itself continues and becomes somewhat repetitive. (The heavily accented English of the Africans is also sometimes difficult to decipher; English subtitles would have helped.) Still, the need to learn what happened to this young man, and why, is strong. The result -- in which we somewhat know and yet don't fully know -- is very well-handled by the filmmaker.

From Strand Releasing and running two hours and eleven minutes, Gabriel and the Mountain opens this Friday, June 15, in New York City (at the Quad Cinema) and Los Angeles (at Laemmle's Royal). In the coming weeks the movie will expand to at least another half dozen cities across the country. Here in South Florida it opens, Friday, July 13, at the Miami Beach Cinematheque. Click here, and then click Screenings on the task bar midway down, to see all currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters. 

A quietly encompassing, surprising original: Pietro Marcello's LOST AND BEAUTIFUL

TrustMovies apologizes in advance for this review not being able to live up to the level of the film under consideration: LOST AND BEAUTIFUL (Bella e perduta) by a young filmmaker, Pietro Marcello (shown below), whose work -- based on the two films of his I've so far seen -- is as unusual and hybrid as that of any documentary filmmaker I've yet encountered. It is also quietly commanding, strangely appealing and hugely generous to both its subjects and us viewers.

To be able to somehow capture with our words the strength and art of the movies we are reviewing is, I would think, the goal of many of us critics. This is difficult to do with good films, let alone great ones. But when a film comes along that weaves together documentary and narrative using resources that consistently surprise and confuse yet somehow builds and coalesces until you realize that, yes, you do understand (and yet you don't understand quite how you've been able to make this leap), well... good luck in finding the right words to describe your experience.

I first saw Signore Marcello's film The Mouth of the Wolf at the Film Society of Lincoln Center's Open Roads series of new Italian films in 2010. I was blown away by that film and am once again by Lost and Beautiful, which I find even more difficult and yet even more rewarding.

It will help if you already possess a love for (and some knowledge of) Italy and its culture and history. Otherwise, the film might simply seem too "foreign." Even then, the manner in which Marcello has envisioned and organized his movie -- using a bizarre blend of Commedia dell'arte figures, narration that comes via a Campanian (Campagnian? Anyway, he is from Campagna) buffalo (yes!), whom we see grow from calf to adulthood, and a very loose history of the recent years of the once-famous Carditello Palace (above) and the man named Tommaso (also above) who took it upon himself to revivify that palace -- despite complete lack of interest by the government and threats from the local Camorra (the Mafia in Southern Italy) -- and who died trying.

Yes, this is a lot to put on the plate of any moviegoer. And while Marcello's film is unspooling, it does seem all over the place, flashing back and forth, using archival footage (below) and maybe even some made-to-seem archival material, taking us from those old Italian theatrical characters (above) to Tommaso, with that buffalo ever front and center, telling his story with a flair for philosophy and irony, humor and sadness. (That fine Italian actor Elio Germano provides the voice of the buffalo.)

I am not sure that Marcello set out to make an animal rights movie, but along with everything else he accomplishes, he manages this as well as any film I've seen. Along the way we view Pulcinella (the famous Commedia dell'arte character), with his mask and without, ministering unto that buffalo, and maybe falling in love with a local woman. We meet shepherds and see the Italian locals take to the streets with placards reading "The Camorra is honest!  The State steals money!" Welcome to the world of Donald Trump. (Well, consider that Italians elected and then even re-elected Silvio Berlusconi, a Trump-twat to the max.)

And yet what consistently builds here is a love for the land, for the livestock, and for the people who work for the betterment of the world, despite the huge obstacles constantly in their path. Marcello's musical choices are exactly right, too -- from the classical to those composed for the movie. Lost and Beautiful may remind you of Bresson's Au Hasard Bathhazar, though it is less rigorously Bressonian and more whimsical, romantic and full of the beauty and sadness of life.

The finale offers as much meaning and emotion as any film you could want. It's a ten-hanky movie that sneaks up on you: One minute you are still questioning its meaning(s) and the next you're in tears and you understand. Well, fuck it. I am making a mash of all this. But I did warn you. I don't know that I can even recommend this strange hybrid documentary for fear that I am expecting too much of you and yet have not given you enough in this review.  (But, gosh, just for the scenes of those puppies cavorting with that buffalo calf....)

From Grasshopper Film, in Italian with English subtitles and running a mere 88 minutes, Lost and Beautiful opens tomorrow, Friday, December 9, at the Film Society of Lincoln Center and then at another five locations across the country. To view all currently scheduled playdates and cities, click here and then scroll down and click on Where to View.

Mike Plunkett's SALERO: all about Bolivia, its wondrous salt plain and the man who works it

What is it about salt -- well, we need it to survive, of course -- that also makes it such a humdinger of a subject for the documentary filmmaker? I am thinking, first, of Margot Benacerraf's Araya -- made some 57 years ago, but only able to be seen as it should be in its debut via Milestone Films in 2009 -- with its utterly breathtaking black-and-white cinematography and tale of the families who worked the salt flats of Venezuela a half-century ago. That film now has a kind of fascinating companion piece, a documentary called SALERO by filmmaker Mike Plunkett, that uses color cinematography of a salt flat in Bolivia very nearly as well, while telling the story of one of the last salt workers, the salero of the title, and his splintering family.

Mr. Plunkett (shown at right), I am guessing, must be familiar with Araya, for these two films have much in common, despite the 50-odd years of space between them. What a stroke of fortune brought the filmmaker together with his subject, Moises (below), the fellow whose family, down generations since his great-grandfather's time, has worked the salt flat for sustenance. Moises calls the flat "the most peaceful place on earth," and you'll find it hard to disagree with him once you've experienced it. His immediate family, however -- particularly his wife, Nelvi -- disagrees. She wants more: money, an urban life in Chile and ever a career of her own.

Further, the Bolivian government, under the direction of its leader, Evo Morales (whom we see and hear speak), is determined to join the 21st Century and so begins mining for lithium beneath the salt flat where Moises labors. While this will be good for the greater Bolivia (and we hope not too bad to the environment at large), it will greatly impact Moises, his labor, and his family.

Salero makes crystal clear the deep love and connection Moises has with his salt -- even when, as is now happening, the price of that salt descends into practically an unlivable depth. Still, the salero perseveres, creating a new way to harvest -- more quickly and more of -- that salt.

We see the little town of Colchani and meet a few of its people and even visit the larger and more thriving desert metropolis of Uyuni (far too big and impersonal to suit Moises). Along the way we watch and listen to Moises' interactions with his children, the most interesting and moving of which involves a morality tale of a board, hammer and nails, the hammering in and then removing of those nails becomes a metaphor for good and bad actions and their results.

We get some history along the way -- of Spain and Colonialism -- and we're happy to see Bolivia rising from near-third-world status into modernity. But everything has its price. For Moises, the price is so high as to make us wonder what is to become of him. Simultaneously heartbreaking and joyous, Salero puts us dead center into that thing we like to call "progress," then leaves us to sort it all out.

From Cinereach and running only 76 minutes, the movie will screen this weekend -- on Saturday, October 15, at 5:30 pm, as part of the annual Margaret Mead Film Festival at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. Click here for more information and/or to purchase tickets. Where else can the film be seen? Well, Cinema Guild has the educational rights, so we are hoping that Salero will eventually get a VOD/home video release. I'll try to keep you updated as things progress....

CONSUMING SPIRITS: Chris Sullivan's 15-year animated labor of love opens for the holidays; dump the kids somewhere else

True to Film Forum's ability to counter-program the usual holiday sweetness and cheer, the storied New York repertory/independent/
documentary theater has done itself proud this year by bringing us an animated film unlike maybe anything we've seen (anything TrustMovies has seen, at least).

CONSUMING SPIRITS might bring to mind Scrooge & Marley, were the spirits involved not mostly alcoholic. (I wouldn't be surprised if Charles Dickens' spirit didn't cotton to this odd film, once he got used to the freedom artists possess these days.) So personal and deeply-felt is the movie that you'll likely wince in near-recognition of all the sadness, regret and spent lives on view. Yet the film contains nary a jerked tear. You'll more likely laugh at the pile-up of neuroses on display by the artist, Chris Sullivan, shown at right, who wrote, directed, produced the film and did the cinematography, editing, sound and much of the animation. (This is not, however, a one-man show: At the end credits, plenty of other people are credited & thanked.)

 
Modern-day Appalachian small-town life seems to be the setting here, and the main characters -- Earl Gray (above), Gentian Violet (below) and Victor Blue (at left, further below) -- sport semi-Dickensian names and toss around interesting philosophies. Gentian's (Jenny's) elderly mom, who lives with her and has Alzheimer's, offers this bit of delectable dinner conversation: "Little Jenny keeps her muffin clean with a vinegar wash."

Stylistically the movie's "animation" is all over the place -- claymation, collage, photos, simple black-and-white line drawing, and richly colored hand-drawn stuff -- yet it all works together harmoniously and darkly. (The movie opens with a hit-and-run nun!) There's even a bunch of product placement here, though I doubt the director was compensated by any of those name brands.

You want hints on the care and keeping of the elderly and dysfunc-tional? Use handcuffs, because when you don't, some very dark things happen. Child molestation, or at least the possibility of same? Check. And a lovely rendition of Shenandoah. (The music/
songs here are used sparingly but beautifully and effectively.)

As the movie marches ahead, relationships and are laid bare and connections made clearer. By the finale (spoiler ahead, or maybe not) there is even a family reunion that is important and yet so distanced that it can not be said to have been played for sentiment. Yet that sentiment is present, all the same. We are told in the press materials that Mr. Sullivan spent 15 years bringing this film to fruition. A look at his animation "studio," below, may indicate why. This is probably as far from Pixar as one can get, though it does appear a "fun" place to spend some time. And however this movie came about, as an audience member I can only say it was worth it.

Consuming Spirits -- running, I am told, 129 minutes (the version I saw ran 135) -- is an animated tale that may take you awhile to appreciate. But I doubt you'll be able to easily forget it. The film opens this Wednesday, December 12, for a two-week run at Film Forum. Elsewhere? Can't say, but something this unusual and worthwhile will be around for a long time to come.