Lorna Tucker's bio-doc WESTWOOD: PUNK, ICON, ACTIVIST. But not much of a designer

Hot on the heels of last month's fashion documentary, The Gospel According to André, comes yet another who-in-hell-needs-it? movie (in which the aforementioned André even plays a minor part).

WESTWOOD: PUNK, ICON, ACTIVIST, directed by Lorna Tucker (shown below: this is her first full-length endeavor) gives us a near-hour-and-a-half of Vivienne Westwood, a woman who has certainly qualified during her lengthy career as punk and activist, even as icon in the eyes of some, but perhaps not so much as an actual fashion designer -- not, at least, based on much of the oddball stuff that is shown us here.

Ms Westwood is, however, a pretty interesting figure. Now 77 years old, she has, as they say, been around the block. At the beginning of this documentary, she questions why anyone would even care to see and hear all this, and then tells us, "If I could do anything I want, what I would do is learn Chinese."

This pretty much sets the tone of a let-it-all-hang-out documentary that bounces back and forth in time (rarely telling us the year) and giving us snippets and shards of Westwood's (born Vivienne Isabel Swire) family history, marriages and relationships, and careers as housewife and mother, punk icon, and finally -- almost by default, it seems, as fashion designer.

Along the way, we're given some fun archival footage and lot more current-day images, meet quite a few of her employees (what a treat it must be to work for this woman! No, no: I'm being ironic), and view more than we might like of various catwalk collections -- which more than once brings to mind the idea that fashion exists mainly to appear "new" and to push the by-now utterly dessicated envelope.

At one point along the way, I jotted in my notes, What a bunch of poseurs! and indeed that does seem to be the case. Poseur-in-chief would be the fellow named Andreas who appears to be Vivenne's significant other, and also seems to have taken over Westwood's business empire. According to her son, whom we meet and hear from periodically during the documentary, this is a good thing. And since Ms Westwood, as shown here, does seems at times to be perhaps a little bit demented, yes, there needs be someone in charge.

Over the past few years, the woman has embraced the idea of climate change and approaching catastrophe and so has become something of an activist (we see a little of this as Westwood attends various rallies and speaks out). But of course her fashion empire remains important, even if, as she explains to a room full of international buyers a propos her business, "Our plan is not about world domination." Well, that's a relief.

Toward the end of the doc, we get the usual round-up of fulsome praise for Westwood, and yet many of the so-called fashions we view here seem downright ugly, if not actually nutty. Notes one woman post-catwalk debut, "The show was just mind-blowing!" Given what we've just witnessed, there must not have been much of a mind to blow.

Early on in her career, during the punk stage, it occurs to Westwood that, "Although we wanted to undermine the establishment, we weren't attacking the system at all. It was all being marketed, all the time. We were just part of the distraction." Exactly. And she still is.

Finally, the question that remains in my mind is this: In the narrative version of her life, will Dame Vivienne Westwood be played by Dame Judi Dench? (There is indeed a resemblance.) Or maybe Dame Vivienne will instead play Dame Judi in the narrative film about the latter's life! God knows, Westwood is quite the performer. In fact, you may end this 91-minute documentary with the sneaking suspicion that perhaps this whole thing was merely a put-on. Maybe even a put-down.

See for yourself and decide when Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist -- from Greenwich Entertainment and running just 83 minutes -- opens this Friday, June 8, in New York City at the IFC Center, and the following Friday, June 15, in Los Angeles at the Landmark NuArt -- with a limited nationwide rollout to follow.

Carla Simón's SUMMER 1993: a fine autobiographical slice of Catalonian life

In annals of rigorously unsentimental cinema of a child working through trauma into some kind of acceptance, there are not a whole lot of examples that TrustMovies can name off the top of his head. (Forbidden Games comes to mind, but it has been so very long since I've seen that gem of a movie that it may be more sentimental that I remember, and The Two of Us, as lovely as it often is, is most definitely sentimental.) Both these films deal with World War II, and the latter with the Jewish Holocaust -- which is often the case with these movies about childhood.

What is quite different about SUMMER 1993, the new autobiographical Spanish film from Catalonia (in Catalan with English subtitles) opening this week, is that it takes place nowhere near wartime. In fact, much of the movie unfurls in the bucolic Catalonian countryside. You could hardly ask for a more gorgeous, verdant setting, and yet the trauma that our heroine, the seven-year-old Frida, must endure -- the recent death of her mother, following that of her father some time before -- is not at all placated by that beauty.

As directed and co-written (with Valentina Viso) by first-time full-length filmmaker Carla Simón (shown above), the movie is made with the kind of deceptive simplicity that seems almost off-hand and improvisational. Performances are first-rate -- the two leading children are particularly amazing: as real as you could want -- and the adults on view give beautifully calibrated performances, as well.

The two young girls are played by Laia Artigas (as the seven-year-old Frida, above, right) and Paula Robles (as the four-year-old Anna, above, left), while the two major adult roles belong to Bruna Cusí (below, left) and David Verdaguer (below, right, of 10.000 KM), as the aunt and uncle who take Frida into their family as someone as close to their own child as possible. The movie never shies away from showing Frida as a child problemed enough to create additional problems -- some minor (a comb tossed out a car window) others major (jealousy toward her little cousin) -- for herself and her new family. All this provides additional heft in keeping sentimentality at bay.

Another great strength of the movie is the manner in which Ms Simón shows us almost everything from a child's-eye view, smartly replacing the usual exposition with realistic behavior and speech. The manner in which the adult family members talk "around" things so as to protect Frida; how non-family reacts to the child's skinned and bloody knee after a small accident; the question of what caused the death of Frida's parents (those who remember the late 80s and 90s, along with drug users, hemophiliacs and the gay community, will probably come to the right conclusion more quickly than others) -- all this is given us via dribs and drabs of very well executed dialog and visuals.

Though appearing almost improvisational, Summer 1993 is filmed with a careful precision that brings to life each small moment and situation. And though there is no war either imminent nor recently finished, because this is Spain, the Spanish Civil War and the dictatorship of Francisco Franco rest always just below the surface, mirrored in the political/cultural attitudes and actions of the different generations we view. (That's Isabel Rocatti, below, as Frida's grandmother.)

The movie is extremely episodic, and this may turn off some viewers. And yet, because each episode is handled so well, the resulting movie manages to build to a finale that is both surprising and somehow hoped for. No explanation is given for Frida's sudden outburst, but discerning viewers will, I think, understand and appreciate the psychological truth -- about loss and acceptance, love and hope -- that underpins the behavior on view here.

Stick Summer 1993, a major award-winner in its own country and at festivals worldwide, on your must-see list. From Oscilloscope Films and running 97 minutes, the movie opens this Friday, May 25, in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal and in New York City at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, before making the rounds of more than 20 other major cities across the country. Here in South Florida, the film will open June 15 at the Tower Theater, Miami, and the Living Room Theaters in Boca Raton. Click here then scroll down to view all currently scheduled playdates.

Gillian Robespierre's sophomore effort, LANDLINE, hits South Florida theaters

Well, its credentials as a piece of American Independent Cinema are certainly flawless: actors the likes of John Turturro, Edie Falco and Jay Duplass, along with newer members such as Abby Quinn and Jenny Slate, the latter of whom director/co-writer Gillian Robespierre collaborated with a few years back on the funny, original and much better indie movie, Obvious Child. Their newest collaboration, LANDLINE, though it boasts a number of lovely moments and scenes, doesn't fare nearly as well overall.

Set in 1995, the movie opens on Labor Day, with some awfully laborious (and, yes, funny) sex taking place on screen. Ms Robespierre, shown at left, together with her co-writers Elizabeth Holm and Tom Bean, have fashioned a movie about family set back some 22 years, at a time when technology, computers, the internet (but not yet cell phones) were beginning to control our lives. This will initially make the movie a nice nostalgia trip for some of us. (Benihana, the restaurant most seen in the film, was also perhaps a bit more newsworthy then.)

The themes here, in addition to the perennially popular one of "family," are those of intimacy, fidelity, trust and betrayal -- and how important these actually are (or maybe aren't) to a successful, long-term relationship. All good -- if nothing we haven't encountered at the movies many times before.

When the family's younger daughter (Quinn, above right) discovers -- a little too easily, it seemed to me -- what looks like an affair their dad (Turturro, at right, two photos above) is having with another woman, she eventually apprises older sibling (Slate, above, left) of the goings-on.

They keep mom (Falco, above, center) out of it while they (sort of) investigate matters, even as the older daughter, though engaged to a nice fellow named Ben (Duplass, in bathtub below), nonetheless falls into an her own affair with an old friend she has recently encountered at a party (Finn Wittrock, at left in photo at bottom).

That's about it -- except that the chickens, as they say, do come home to roost. (Oh, there's a little drug-dealing here, too.) The problem is that nothing we see or hear is all that incisive, interesting, funny or moving. (It's certainly not original, either.) Performances are as good as can be, given the material, and the movie is never unwatchable. But we keep waiting for it to take off. Instead it stays firmly grounded until it finally rolls into its predetermined destination.

From Amazon Studios and running a little too long even at 97 minutes, Landline, after hitting the major cultural centers a week or so back, opens here in South Florida tomorrow, Friday, July 28, in the Miami areas at AMC's Aventura 24 and Sunset Place 24, Regal's South Beach 18 and the O Cinema Wynwood. The following Friday, August 4, it expands to Fort Lauderdale, the Palm Beach and Boca Raton areas at The Classic Gateway Theatre, Regal's Royal Palm Beach 18 and Shadowood 16, the Living Room Theater, and the Cinemark Palace 20. Wherever you live across the country, just click here to find a theater near you.

Owen Harris' KILL YOUR FRIENDS visits the blotto music industry (circa the 1990s)

What The Player did for Hollywood and Exit Through the Gift Shop did for the art world, a new movie called KILL YOUR FRIENDS attempts to do for the music industry -- unfortunately in a mostly been-there/done-that manner. Part of the problem is that the movie must be necessarily set in the past, as there no longer exists a music industry anything like the one pictured here. (Music post-Napster is something else entirely.) With a screenplay by John Niven (who also co-wrote one of the most enjoyable underseen films of modern times, Cat Run), based upon his own novel, and directed by Owen Harris (below), the film features one of those would-be memorable anti-heroes who murders his way to the top.

As played well, if a tad too heavy-handedly, by the increasingly gorgeous Nicholas Hoult (from About a Boy, Jack the Giant Slayer, Warm Bodies and the latest Mad Max overkill, and who is shown below and further below), our main character, Steven, is a talentless, lazy, entitled no-account, whose main abilities seems to be looking good and murdering his peers. Now, we don't have to like the guy, but we ought to at least be interested in how he works his way up the ladder. Slack pacing and wobbly, paint-by-numbers plotting make this difficult, despite a very good supporting cast.

This would include an under-used Joseph Mawle (below, left), a smart and grossly used James Corden, and helpful stand-bys like Tom Riley (in the penultimate photo, below), Craig Roberts (below, right), Jim Piddock (two photos below) and Georgia King (the blond at left, shown three photos below).

If murder, blackmail and accessing your boss' computer were as easy it it all seems here, what a field day villains could have.  However, if you're willing to suspend (and then stomp on) your disbelief, you might have a better time than did I.

Edward Hogg (of another underseen gem, Bunny and the Bull) makes several appearances as a would-be song-writing policeman whose misplaced ambitions play into Steven's unbelievable rise.

Two small supporting performances may grab you unexpectedly: Moritz Bleibtreu, as a German music biz idiot named Rudi, and Rosanna Arquette, as an outspoken feminist at a luncheon Steven attends. Both are better than the material that surrounds them.

Finally not funny enough to be called a comedy, or sharp enough for real satire, Kill Your Friends exists as a glossy, semi-entertaining account of a know-nothing's rise and--were the film to enter the ensuing decade--fall.

From Well Go Entertainment, the movie opens today in New York City at the AMC Empire 25, in Los Angeles at the Arena Cinema, and all across the country at various cities. Click here to see all 15 currently scheduled playdates. Simultaneously with today's limited theatrical release, the film will hit Digital HD via, I am guessing, the usual venues.