DVDebut: Anne Hamilton's smart mix of family, farming, fairy-tale & fright -- AMERICAN FABLE

A movie oddity that almost works and, in fact, comes close enough to merit a viewing, AMERICAN FABLE, by first-time/full-length filmmaker Anne Hamilton, is so interesting and unusual for so many reasons that, despite its somewhat ham-handed rendering of the fairy-tale element, the other genres it mixes and mashes work well enough to hold us in thrall and finally bring us home. Combining visual beauty, nostalgia (the film takes place in the 1980s, but it is set on the kind of family farm where time remains static), mystery and coming-of-age, Ms Hamilton (shown below), as both writer and director, has created a film that compares to little else.

Most of what we see is via the eyes, mind and feelings of the movie's heroine, Gitty, an exceedingly bright and imaginative adolescent girl, played with great charm, wit and a kind of reticent charisma by Canadian actress Peyton Kennedy (below, with pet chicken). As happened to so many American family farms during this decade of "Reaganomics" and its corporate sellout, the farm of Gitty's mom and dad is struggling to remain afloat. Though she's aware that something bad is afoot, her parents are trying to shield her from exactly how dire the situation is. As it turns out, they're also shielding her from something even worse, and this provides the heart and soul of this unsettling and oddly beautiful, strangely affecting movie.

Considering that American Fable deals with rather monstrous stuff -- the details of which I must eschew in order not to spoil things for you -- it manages to maintain a difficult balance of serenity and beauty, while offering up occasional jolts and surprise.

In its depiction of family, the movie is perhaps at its most shocking, since the villain of the piece turns out to be a somewhat unusual choice (which had me wondering if Ms Hamilton has, perhaps, some "older brother" issues). In any case, this role is taken by a good young actor, Gavin MacIntosh (above), who imbues the role with a peculiar brand of American-idiot machismo gone increasingly bonkers.

The roles of dad and mom are played well by the always reliable Kip Pardue and Marci Miller (above, left and right, respectively), while the wild card here is the character who maybe ought to be the villain but somehow is not. As played by the always excellent Richard Schiff (below and at bottom, with Ms Kennedy), this fellow proves to be the link that brings the movie's many themes and genres together.

The weakest link in all this is the would-be fairy-tale element. Yes, this is clearly part of Gitty's imagination, but the filmmaker makes these sections clunk along rather than organically meld into the rest of the movie. The POV is wrong, for one thing: We oughtn't have to view Gitty and this monster within the same frame, since this apparition is coming from Gitty's own mind and fear.

Leave out completely the ram-headed villainess-on-horseback, and the film would only be stronger, for the actress who plays her (Zuleikha Robinson) is just fine and fulfilling in her more "normal" appearances along the way. Gitty and her love for the "magic" of the natural world combined with her strong moral sense provide wonder enough here.

From IFC Midnight and running a nicely-paced 96 minutes, the movie, after hitting streaming venues and getting a very limited theatrical release, arrives on DVD this coming Tuesday, July 11 -- for purchase or rental.

SCN: Jaime Rosales bounces (halfway) back with his new DREAM AND SILENCE

After only your second full-length film (La Soledad) brings you the nation's Best Picture Award, what do you do for an encore? You give audiences and critics something called Bullet in the Head, which leaves them not a little bit angry and unsatisfied.

Spanish wunderkind Jaime Rosales (shown below) is back this year at Spanish Cinema Now with his latest -- DREAM AND SILENCE (Sueño y silencio) -- and while it is nowhere near the level of his first two films, it marks at least a measured return to the kind of movie that will not entirely alienate an audience.

Those hall-marks we've come to expect from Rosales are all here: the stationery camera; the distancing camerawork, in which we stay at a certain remove from the event; the almost docu-mentary style; interesting, thoughtful use of ambient sound. This time, however, the filmmaker has pulled some major surprises, not all of them pleasant for his viewers. The big event happens not only off-screen but is missing even from the actual time-frame. (Unless the screener on which I watched the film malfunctioned, it seemed as if there was an odd bit of static/editing at the moment in which this "event" takes place.) We don't even know that it has happened -- or what it is -- until later in the film.

In La Soledad, a movie alive with interesting relationships, one of the two big events happens at a distance, but it is such a shock and surprise that we need that extra time during which the camera remains fixed to process what we're seeing. The second big event takes place in front of us but in the next room: We watch it occur, somewhat obscured, though an open doorway. In Dream and Silence we don't even get that much: Instead, we learn what has happened via some rather clunky exposition between two characters. Rosales seems to be testing us: How little can I show you and still keep you on my leash? Well, sir: more than you've given us here, that's for sure. The filmmaker offers up a relatively happy family (above) then tears it apart to learn, or maybe prove, that it can somehow be made whole again.

Even more than usual, Rosales has cast his film with fledgling actors -- three generations of them -- and for each man, woman and child, this appears to be his/her film debut. That they all -- or most, at least -- do a fine job, attests to the filmmaker's skill in casting and/or direction. The wife, as played (I believe) by Yolanda Galocha (above), is especially good: loose, real, motherly, sexy, funny and finally quite moving.

Rosales' stationery camera is as effective as ever, except in the funeral scene, where it is simply set up way too far from the event itself (and for three times the length needed) so that our fidgeting/
annoyance level grows to immense proportions, as we try to figure why in hell we're here and what it is the filmmaker wants us to see.

When that camera is finally moved -- and beautifully, during a couple of scenes in a vast park -- it borders on the near-extraordinary. In the penultimate scene, after being somewhat cooped by by this family and its problem, we're set free to roam with the camera that lovely park and just view  the various kinds of humanity on display. The effect is low-key but very moving.

Throughout, the beautiful, widescreen, black-and-white cinematography by Óscar Durán is the jewel in this somewhat fragmented crown. The film begins with an artist at work and ends with an artist once again working -- but this time in color (below). You can ponder awhile and probably come up with a sensible reason or two for the switch. But when color intrudes in the middle of the film, for maybe half a minute and for no apparent reason, as grandfather sits behind the wheel of the car, you'll be flummoxed. What's the point here? To remind us of what color looks like? Or maybe as a test for dozing sleepyheads?

The central situation of the film -- what happens to father after the big event -- is handled in such a drab, uninteresting manner that it's, well, boring. Granted this approach avoids melodrama. But it also avoids much real drama, feeling, expression, the works. We occasionally get glimpses of all this, but in Dream and Silence the details he has chosen to show and tell us are nowhere near the specificity level needed for real immersion into the situation. This same thing happened with Bullet in the Head, where the situation would seem even more extreme and tension-filled (a terrorist strikes in a public place) but the distancing is so great that the film ends up leached of much of its inherent interest.

In both La Soledad and Rosales' first film The Hours of the Day (about the life and work of a serial killer), the filmmaker found so many ways -- via honest, specific and challenging connections, dialog and events -- for us to enter the central situations that he managed to offer reality, avoid melodrama and rivet our interest and concern. I hope he finds a way in his future films, whatever their subject matter, to do this again.

Dream and Silence plays only once at Spanish Cinema Now, tonight, Thursday, December 13,  at 8:30 pm.  Click the link above to see all of this year's programs, finished or still ahead.

A "date movie" for adults. Really? Yes! Jim Hemphill's THE TROUBLE WITH THE TRUTH

While TrustMovies calls this one (as does its own press release) a "date movie for adults," let's be a bit more specific. Those dating adults had better be able to handle the idea of marriage gone bad and the long time it takes to recover from this. Maybe older adults -- ah-hah, another movie for seniors! -- might be the best match for this unusual new film. Those of us who've been through the marri-age mill once or more, have had children and are even now perhaps still coming to terms with our failures as a husband or wife, and as a father or mother, are the real audience for the engaging and challenging workout titled THE TROUBLE WITH THE TRUTH, brought to us by writer/director Jim Hemphill, shown below.

I would wager that a number of people connected with the film-- specifically the filmmaker and his two stars John Shea and Lea Thompson -- have had a background in the legitimate theater. I know Mr. Shea has, for I enjoyed his work off-Broadway in decades past. Ms Thompson I know more from movies, but am told that she too has worked extensively in theater. And though I cannot find reference to this in the press materials, I'd bet that Mr. Hemphill comes from theater, and that this film, in fact, began its life as a theater piece. It probably did, and he must. Anyone with this terrific an understanding of how to write great dialog -- this movie is almost all dialog -- either began in legitimate theater or is channeling the spirit of some theater "legends." Hemphill also understands scene construction, pacing and flow, where this dialog is concerned: yet more virtues possessed by theater folk.

The result of all this "theater-like" business is a movie that beigns in a coffee shop, as Shea (above, left) meets his daughter (a brief but very nice turn by Danielle Harris, above, right) for breakfast. An announcement is made that sets off an argument, recriminations and the soon-arranged dinner meeting (at the very restaurant where the Shea character is a musician) between mom dad, the divorced-some-time-ago characters played by Shea and Ms. Thompson (shown below, and further below).

That meeting (over drinks, dinner, dessert and then more drinks in an upstairs lounge) makes up the remainder of the movie -- which is simply stunning in its single-minded pursuit of who these people are and why they are no longer together. The writing is first-rate, carrying us (and the twosome) into the past and back to the present, divulging character traits and history along the way, all with such elan that it make the screenwriting almost accidental, hovering as it seems to between dialog and improv. It is such a pleasure to listen to this conversation, and to watch such solid professionals as Shea and Thompson strut their stuff. (The superb cinematography is from Roberto Correa.)

While this dialog and the performances are easy and always believable, what is not always so believable is the volume at which our characters are speaking. I wish the director had thought to suggest to his actors that they remember that they are in a public place and should tone it down just a notch. The few other other diners that we are able to see do seem to occasionally acknow-ledge the presence of this pair, but if I were in that restaurant, I'd have turned to the two and asked them to button it, please.

Once the two adjourn to the lounge, where they are alone, the credibility grows, and it does so even more when they reach their final destination and their characters are revealed more fully. This is some of the best sustained and meaningful dialog (quick, funny, moving, surprising) coupled to excellent acting that I have seen in some time, and I can certainly understand why the film won the awards it did at film festivals in Las Vegas and Sedona.

This is a look at how two very real, often amusing, sophisticated and witty characters, who are firmly middle class (he's lower, she's upper), live now. As such, it deserves a place in any time capsule of culture we might be readying. Shea has allowed the years to do their work on him, yet he still looks as intelligent and sexy as ever, while Thompson is simply stunning. She looks more beautiful now than she did a decade or so earlier. (That's Keri Lynn Pratt, above, as the Shea character's latest squeeze,)

The Trouble With the Truth, running a perfectly-timed 96 minutes, opens today, Friday, September 14, in both New York City (at the Quad Cinema, where Mr Shea will make a personal appearance tonight, 9/14, at the 7:30 show and do a Q&A after the screening) and in the Los Angeles area at the Egyptian Theatre in Hollywood, and for one performance only this Sunday, September 16, at the Aero Theatre in Santa Monica. Hemphill, Shea and Thompson will appear for a Q&A at the Aero screening, and they, along with DP Correa, will appear at various times during the week's screenings at the Egyptian. Click the theaters' links above for further information.

The photos above come courtesy of the movie's 

web site and were taken by Evelyn Sen.

Whole Grain Goodness: Alex Ross Perry's & Carlen Altman's bizarre THE COLOR WHEEL

Winner of the not-so-well-known award for Best Undistributed Film of 2011 from both the Village Voice and IndieWire, and now the winner of the even less known TrustMovies award for Grainiest Beautiful Black-and-White Film We've Ever Seen, THE COLOR WHEEL, from Alex Ross Perry (shown below, who is the film's director, editor, co-producer, co-writer and co-star -- whew!) and Carlen Altman (merely co-writer and co-star), is something else. Does that else mean a winning movie? Highly questionable. But let's start with the good stuff -- of which there is a fair amount.

The grain of this gorgeous black-and-white movie is so amazingly thick and rich that you may want to approach the screen and pluck it off in chunks. Shot on 16 mm -- and then, what, blown up to 35mm for theatrical release? -- the film's press material notes that it was "finished on HDCam," so maybe this accounts for richer grain than I am used to seeing. What-ever, the end result is quite something, and the cinematographer Sean Price Williams has done an amazing job of photographing the two leads (and most everyone else) in tight, unrelenting close-up to achieve an intimacy that is at times almost too much.

As actors, Mr. Perry (above, left, as Colin) and Ms Altman (above, right, his sister JR) are quite good. Initially, they win us over by force of personality, fielding their own dialog like pros. That dialog is often cute, but the behavior that goes with it grows increasingly and terminally stupid. It's when the characters move from a little crazy to completely over the top (all the subsidiary characters seem just as crazy, too) that any sense of reality -- of a world where any of these people would last more than ten minutes before being knocked on their asses, institutionalized or shot at close range -- simply disappears.

Now, some audiences may enjoy this because, yes, it's different. But anyone who demands some trace of belief and credibility to the characters on-screen, vis-à-vis the environment they inhabit, will have given up long before the movie's ace-in-the-hole -- its transgressive, penultimate scene -- plays out. It is this scene, in fact (and I will say no more about it), that I think has allowed The Color Wheel to win the fans it has. Because of it, some viewers will put up with the ridiculousness that has preceded it. Without it, the movie would have long before turned into its own deal-breaker. The earlier "party" scene alone, stuffed with the most obvious and clichéd characters, brings home this point most breathtakingly. Wouldn't the guy who pours wine into Colin's pocket, and later threatens him with physical harm, punch him out when our hero vomits all over him? Well, no, actually, because this doesn't fit the film's immediate needs. Mr. Perry is a sloppy movie-maker -- he doesn't even bother to reshoot (or cut) a flubbed line of dialog -- but evidently, he has other goals.

It will be interesting to see what Mr. Perry does next. If he manages to place his innate talent for "quirk" into an environment that accommodates it, who knows? As an actor, he has a kind of inverse presence that can be interesting, but his voice -- at least the one he uses in this film -- is designed to make you turn the volume way down. It's not that he's loud, but like Woody Allen can sometimes be, he's nattering and offensive enough that you want him to shut up. He finally does, and -- wow -- what a difference. As with any possible love object, in his silence he almost becomes sexy, intelligent, possibly even kind, so that viewers can begin to plant their fantasies on him. Ms Altman, too, could use a good silencing. She's quite beautiful in her way and possesses a genuine screen presence. But here, it's set on turn-off rather than turn-on. In a sense, I suppose, it is daring to offer characters like these as your protagonists. After awhile, though, it's just senseless.

The Color Wheel, 83 minutes, from Cinema Conservancy, has its New York premiere this Friday, May 18, at BAMcinématek. Click here to view other upcoming playdates around the country.

THE COLORS OF THE MOUNTAIN: Carlos César Arbeláez's haunting Colombian film

Has futility ever looked so gorgeous? It's hard to image a more beautiful movie than this one, taking place in the highlands of Colombia, where the colors are bright and true, but the life endured makes that spot between rock and hard place look practically alluring. The award-winning film THE COLORS OF THE MOUNTAIN is the first full-length narrative feature from Carlos César Arbeláez (shown below), a Colombian filmmaker who earlier made a number of television documentaries and a couple of shorts. His command of movie-making is, not surprisingly, quite assured, and he draws very good performances from his mostly fledgling cast of children (his adult actors have more professional resumes).

Arbeláez's cinematogapher is Oscar Jimenez, who did a very unusual little romantic comedy/travel movie called The Art of Travel a few years back. This one is even more beautiful, and part of its enormous push-pull impact is due to the irony of the breathtaking vistas pitted against the despicable political conditions forced upon the locals. Within a few scenes, we're aware of something severely amiss. Though we see no actual fighting, there appears to be near-constant combat between paramilitary troops and the guerrillas. Both groups insist on the loyalty of the indigenous population -- which makes for an impossible situation. The people who live here must commit to one side only, and so will be eventually killed by the other. Fun, huh?

Yet there is some genuine fun, even occasional delight to be found in the lives of the local children whose parents have kept them as far away from danger and concern as possible  As the movie proceeds, this protection collapses, but until then, these young best-friends have some charming times and adventures -- all of which are overlaid and underlaid with trauma. (Note the scene in which one boy shows another his collection of bullets, and a guessing-game ensures.)

Soccer is the kids' main concern, though they seem to do well enough at school. Their teacher, however, is new, quite dedicated and as yet untutored in how bad the sitation is. She'll learn. Meanwhile, the kids' precious soccer ball goes missing in a field that's been land-mined. (How we and they learn of this provides one of the film's biggest surprises -- and one of its only "special effects.") Along the way, we discover how life in this small mountain community works, and how it impacts on the larger city nearby where trade is negotiated and livings are made.

The three children we come to know best are soccer enthusiast Manuel (played by Hernán Mauricio Ocampo, above and below, left, and further above kicking that ball), his older, taller friend Julián (played by Nolberto Sánchez (above, center) and third-wheel Poca Luz, an albino boy with thick glasses (brought to delightful life by Genaro Aristizábal, above, right). Each has his cross to bear, none of which are at all easy. But the kids keep the movie a bit light-hearted, at least.

Señor Arbeláez treads a difficult line between realism and something akin to a "family film." He makes us aware of the danger, and the inordinately fraught situation for the adults, but shows very little direct violence or bloodshed. We see in one late scene the results of this on a local man, and we also hear gun shots in the distance. Adult viewers will put two and two together; children will need some explaining. All in all, the film works -- and better than you might expect. We never learn anything specific about the political situation or the stance of either the military or guerrillas, but so far as the locals are concerned -- and it is they for whom we care -- this does not matter. As the graffitti-atop-grafitti on the schoolhouse wall indicates, both groups want victory for themselves and death for their enemy, while the teacher and her kids want life and peace. Their contribution to that wall, below, proves beautiful and memorable (you'll have to see the fiim to view their gorgeous mural) -- but it certainly will not last.

The Colors of the Mountain, in Spanish with English subtitles and a running time of 88 minutes, opens in New York City at the Cinema Village on Friday, May 6, with other playdates and cities possible over the months to come. Click here, then scroll down to see a complete listing.